We should be running in the meadows and feeding cows on the farm at this time, but by a twist of fate, J was admitted into hospital a few days before we were about to set off.
We thought she would recover from her fever quickly when she had a fever last Thursay. But it persisted and from the initial diagnosis, we thought it was stomach flu. I secretly prayed that it will go away soon, so that the trip can carry on as planned. Then we saw blood in her stool over the weekend. It started with one drop, which we thought arose from abrasion due to her diarrhoea. By afternoon, it was dripping. We rushed to KKH (and I was still hoping it was nothing too serious.)
While waiting for our turn to see the doctor, J asked to go to the toilet again and this time, all I saw was clotted, dark red blood mixed in her v soft, creamy like stool, which appeared to be green at that time. I didn't know how to react. My legs turned jelly. My mind was blank. I was scared stiff because of my dad's previous experience. I just wanted to see the doctor fast and I was prepared that J would be admitted into hospital. My consolation was that she was still active, babbling non stop. Her legs were weak from the frequent toilet visits though.
It was not the most pleasant experience for a parent to prepare a child for hospital admission. I was worried that she would be scared. I thought I might cry but J calmed my nerves. We brought her to her cot in the ward and she started exploring and was clearly excited about it. She really thought she was on a holiday. Everyone was pretty amused because she wouldn't stop asking "Who's going to switch off the lights?"
The doctor on duty finally came by in the wee hours and from her reaction when she saw photos of J's bloody stool, it was worrying. J was put on iv antibiotics and that meant waking her up in the early hours to insert IV plug on her while they collect some blood for a blood test. Those screams of "mama...." - heart wrenching. Those were the cries of fear. Cries of being forced to do something she doesn't want to. Cries due to restraint. Not like we had a choice though.
The following morning, J was quite badly shaken. She didn't want to speak. She just kept whining but no proper words came out of her mouth. She appeared traumatised but thankfully she cheered up a little after my silly antics. (Moo Juice)
By Day 3, J was pretty accustomed to the routines. She hates the doctor's visits and would cry murder (almost) but she got curious about the IV plug and didn't allow it to hinder her movements. In fact, she figured a way to use her fingers - no longer stiff like it was the first day.
There was an art therapy session and we happened to be in the area because I wanted to let her watch a bit of TV. She was more interested in drawing. And so we sat there for close to an hour and just doodled away.
I'm thankful for the art session. It brought a bit of normalcy to her short stay at the hospital.
And I'm grateful to the staff for being so accommodating, especially when I refused to leave the treatment room and when I asked for medicine to be disguise as juice/water. I'm grateful for their efforts to bond with my girl so that puts her at ease.
She's still having loose stools but at least she's eating properly now.
I don't know if I should have brought her in earlier. I did wish that I had trusted my gut instinct that something wasn't right. However, after this episode, I did learn that life has plans and, cliché as it may sound, sometimes things are meant to be.
1. I've always lamented that I'm a bad Mom who can't stay up for her child even when she falls sick - I didn't sleep the first night. So, yay?
2. We were having a little problem planning the itinerary of the trip and I didn't really want to travel in March. We ended up not. We were able to postpone the trip to May at minimal extra costs (thank goodness) and replanned our trip.
3. Children are fighters. Yes, they are.
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