The Best Laid Plans
Ever had one of those days when everything went completely and totally to plan?
I had one today.
Today was transfusion day for Coco, and usually there is a comedy of close to errors. All manner of things can go astray, from not being about to get a carpark within a five kilometre radius of the hospital (with an exhausted seven year old who is too heavy to carry and is too big for a pram), to thunderstorms, to the kid vomiting all over herself in the car (no, I do not carry a change of clothes in the car), to blood that has gone missing in action, nurses who rarely transfuse children and so (understandably) don’t really know the protocols (which incidentally, change often), doctors who choose not to listen to the kid on which vein is the best one, and so blow a few on the way in…
We got Coco’s blood cross-matched on Friday, and so had the weekend to prepare for today. Call me crazy, but I decided to “manifest” over the weekend, so just like when I pull an arsey Member’s Park on Hastings Street on any given day, I visualised every last detail…
We got a spot in the underground carpark.
We got a private room.
They were running on time.
Cass the music therapist was there to play tunes whilst the doctors were cannulating.
The doctor listened to Coco and popped that vein first go.
The kid had invented a new process of listening to Aunty Hayley’s Song and holding her breath, as they punctured her skin so that she didn’t even cry.
The blood was in the fridge ready, and it was good stuff.
Coco didn’t run any fevers.
She preferred her home-packed lunch, so I got to eat her roast beef and it was pretty good.
The nurses knew the protocols, the dosages, the order of operation.
And it didn’t rain.
Oh, and I got to put in my two bobs worth by filling out a survey.
So all that, and we managed to get home in time for dinner. All that manifesting took it out of me, so after the kids were in bed, I had a little lie down and listened to Coco and her Dad through the baby monitor that we still have in her room. I could hear her cackling like a loon because Nath was being a “tickle buggy”, whatever the hell that is. She didn’t want to go to sleep because she was “feeling too playful”, and really, after such a wonderful day, who could blame her?
There’s been a lot going on up here in the Sunshine State regarding wages and doctors and Campbell Bloody Newman. I don’t know what the future holds for Nambour Hospital and the amazing humans who tend to our little girl, but I can only
hope manifest that he leaves the place alone and lets them continue on in their own magical ways, leaving all our kids feeling “too playful”.
And we all know what a bloody good manifester I am.
…From The Ashers xx