Difficult day

Archie has now been back in hospital for a week and a half.  At first his condition followed the path that was described to us that he would likely get worse over the first couple of days but then his body would begin to win the battle against the bronchialitis and he would recover.  He has been attached to an oxygen monitor that has two purposes.  The first and most important purpose is to measure the amount of oxygen in his blood and ensure that the saturation is strong enough to keep him healthy – if that number goes down for any length of time then they turn up the amount of oxygen being fed in through a tube on his nose.  The second reason for the monitor is to keep Hilary permanently on edge and prevent her from sleeping or being able to leave the room.  Whenever you turn your back there is this ‘beep beep’ sound that means you have to check to see what is happening and act accordingly.    Anyone who has experienced this will know exactly what I am talking about – it is unpleasant and frustratingly repetitive, even though you know it is supporting your child’s life.

On the oxygen

Anyway, as I said, Archie followed the pattern and started to get better, however then he seemed to stall.  He didn’t have the same difficulties as he had when we initially bought him into hospital, but he wasn’t getting fully better.  His oxygen had been turned down quite a lot, but it was not possible to take it away fully.  We had reached a sort of impass.

This impass was broken yesterday when, by all accounts, Archie provided Hilary with a tremendous emotional journey.  Short of the day of his birth, possibly the hardest day yet of his tiny little life.

I have only heard about these events second hand – I was at work and received updates via mobile phone.  Although clearly being at the scene of the action is hard work and emotional stuff, I sometimes think that not being there is just as hard, in different ways.  The feelings of frustration, helplessness and the desire to want to make things better but being utterly powerless are complicated, to say the least.

The day began with a nurse and two trainees coming in to do a heel prick blood sample.  In this procedure, Archie receives a small stab in the heel from a needle and then the nurse squeezes said foot to encourage drops of blood to emerge.  The blood droplets are then ‘captured’ (I believe through a process known scientifically as adhesion) in a very thin, hollow glass tube which has to be whisked off to a lab in a very short time, constantly being turned to prevent any clotting.  If there are any air bubbles in the sample, or any element of clotting, the whole process is void and must be done again.

As often happens in hospitals, the trainees were having a go at the process.  Unfortunately, the whole episode was a disaster and it kept going wrong, upsetting Hilary and her Mum considerably and, I imagine, making the trainees who were trying desperately to get the procedure correct more and more nervous and anxious.  Archie was covered in blood over his legs and feet and he was understandably screaming away while Hilary was simply wishing the whole situation away and resisting the urge to yell at the trainees and demand that someone who was trained properly should now do it.

Eventually the job was done and Archie was cleaned up, although  Hil and her Mum were in a pretty fragile state.  It was at this point that a Dr. came in and asked Hilary whether it was OK if he did his ward round with a bunch of students, adding that it would be really useful for them to look at Archie as, of course, he had Down Syndrome.  Archie was now about to be an exhibit, a specific sample of a medical condition to be inspected as an object, rather than as our individual, fragile little boy.  To her credit, although Hil says that she just wanted the world to fold and swallow her up, she said yes, but could she leave the room while they came in.  While they inspected Archie, Hilary went to the ward kitchen (there was nowhere else to go) and cried.  A lot.
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To be fair to the Dr. he wasn’t to know that this would upset Hilary as much as it did.  As Hil said, he had come into the room every day for the last few days to do his check on Archie and each time Hil had been happy and chirpy, seemingly content and accepting of the situation we were in.  Today the timing of the situation was just a bit off and everything came to a head.  He did realise that it had upset Hil and later on apologised to her, which he didn’t need to do and we are very grateful for all the help he gave us.  In any case, if Archie was able to develop the professional knowledge of the people who will be caring for future children with Down then we have to see that as only a positive thing.

A couple of hours later, the nurses informed Hilary that due to Archie’s stalled progress, they were now going to have to move him onto a high dependency ward – essentially the middle man between a normal ward and intensive care.  Could anything more go wrong?

With about 1 hours notice, Hil had to pack away everything that was in the room that had been home for over the last week, and bustle herself over the corridor to a place where Archie would be watched over 24 hours a day by a dedicated team whose job it was to closely monitor 2 or 3 children.  He was placed into a different kind of cot and had something called a CPAC attached to him, which essentially forced Oxygen down into his lungs.

The CPAC

The nurse explained that this was rather like the first breath into a balloon, which is the hardest.  After that first breath, it is much easier to inflate the balloon and so it was with Archie’s lungs.  By inflating them slightly, the hope was that it would become easier for him to breath, and so he would expend less energy on this vital function and thus have energy to spare fighting his medical condition.  By the time they had set up all of this equipment and installed Archie in the system, it was late in the evening.  A mammoth day for Hilary ended with her sleeping on the sofa bed under the eyes of the nurse who came in to check on Archie every 20 minutes or so.

He would be in this ward for the next 48 hours, but amazingly it did the trick, because he would come home 3 days later.

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