They couldn’t get the catheter in. A nurse tried twice, and then they asked me if the should try again. I said yes, wanting to avoid bringing him back. He was so desperate, panicked and in pain, wondering why his mama was holding him down so they could torture him.
I said yes, and the doctor had a go, and she failed too. And when the catheter came out, it had blood on it.
All afternoon he was spontaneously screaming, while tears rolled silently down my cheeks, and I fought to maintain composure and a soothing calm manner. I sang his favourite songs until my throat was raw.
Eventually, he fell asleep, and aside from a temperature early this morning, is acting as if nothing happened.
And I’m a wreck. I don’t know if my immune system was weakened by the extreme stress of yesterday, or whether I was due for it anyway, but my throat is on fire, and my head is full of snot.
I think I’ll take a day off life.
Oh, and we have to go back on Thursday.