I’m a little late in posting this update, but everything has been a bit of a nightmare over the past couple of days.
Firstly, I am pleased to say that my husband’s surgery was a success. They had to make one of the cuts wider that they wanted to, but the whole procedure was still classed as keyhole. He returned home yesterday morning, grotty and in pain. At least it’s over and done with now. Happy birthday to my hubby! But, I repeat, it’s over and done with now.
He was supposed to be able to remove the bandages today. One (he has four in total) had peeled away under his t-shirt. After a good look at it, it still looks a bit too ‘fresh’, so my first aid box came out so I could redress it. That was the one that they had to open a bit more than they wanted too. I said that we’ll try again later on this afternoon with two of the smaller wounds. At least he can start to have a bit of fresh air hit the wounds to assist in the healing process. As for the one I redressed, that just isn’t ready to be ‘naked’ yet. The fourth is positioned in and just below his naval. That’s the largest cut of all. That won’t be ready to be uncovered for at least a few days, but I’ll have a look at that later too.
My hubby feels awful because he’s not been able to cuddle our 18-month old. They said he would be ok to have our little man on his knee, but he us such a wriggler, and does tend to kick. Playfully, of course. But regardless, he feels guilty because he just can’t take the chance.
That all seems well and good, but what about this ‘nightmare’ I mentioned?
My little man isn’t well.
On Friday night, when my husband was in hospital, my beautiful baby boy woke up about 2:30am. I thought it was his usual… Wake up, cry, have a fight with me to get him back to sleep… But no. This was something different. It started off as the aforesaid, but then his breathing changed. Next thing you know, he vomited all over the bed. Obviously, because I didn’t expect it, I freaked out. My little man…
He had seemed a bit off at dinner time, but I didn’t think too much about it because he can be a difficult eater. He ate his supper with no problem, and was drinking normally, so I didn’t worry about it.
But he did. When he was sick, he burst into tears and seemed to cower away from me. I must have repeated “it doesn’t matter, baby” at least a hundred times, but he was still afraid. I managed to strip the bed and get it in the wash, but instead of making the bed up again, I got the spare duvet and went into the living room to settle him on my recliner.
I’d just sat down when I decided to go and put the heating on… Putting him on the floor, he began sobbing again. When I got back into the living room, he looked at me with his beautiful, big, blue eyes and vomited again. This time all over the carpet. Three times… I rushed him into the bathroom (we live in a bungalow), lifted the toilet seat and told him to spit (he’s just learned that after he brushes his teeth). So the clean-up started again. I decided to just change him into a vest this time in case it happened again.
By now it was about 4:45am. I swept him up, lay him on my chest whilst in the recliner, covered us both with the duvet in the hope of getting at least an hours sleep.
To bring you up to date to now; he vomited on 5 occasions yesterday and had one bout of diarrhea. Today he has had one horrific nappy first thing this morning, but he has had his breakfast and has managed to keep it down. He has not vomited since 7pm last night. Hopefully that was the last of it. He’s still very docile today, but I would be too if I spent all day being poorly.
So, instead of me looking after my post surgery husband, I’m having to spend all my time nursing a once-rowdy, very poorly toddler. Luckily enough that hubby can walk around and can make himself a drink…
There you go. That’s been my last 48 hours.