A few weeks ago, we had to take Gus to A&E. He’d banged his head and a couple of days later started being sick – over me – at 1 o’clock in the morning, yeah!
So I spoke to the GP and was advised to go up to the hospital to get it checked out, just in case.
The last time I was at A&E was when Gus was born, and I was off my tits on painkillers, having just been discharged and then getting an attack of numbness, to which apparently the right course of action was to pull up the drawbridge to the post natal ward and make me sit at A&E two days after an emergency c-section, with a 2-day-old baby and a 4-year-old. Midnight came and we left without being seen. Now we’ll never know if I suffered a mild stroke or a narcotic-induced panic attack. Slow handclaps all round.
Anyway, I’ve veered off track. What is lovely to report is that this time, the staff were great.
We were seen within 10 minutes, Gus was assessed and taken down to the children’s ward, where we waited for him to be checked out thoroughly, before a gastric bug was diagnosed and we were sent on our way with a direct phone number to ring if anything changed in the next 24 hours. It was so reassuring to know that Gus was alright and to see the care he was lavished with by all concerned.
It helped to replace some quite traumatic memories of the last time I was at the hospital and restored my faith in the right kind of human nature just a little bit more. #ThankyouNHS
Image from Pixabay