In my last blog I indicated that my youngest was ill. In fact, not only was he ill, but he was actually very ill. At about midday, I had to take him to the emergency department whereupon he was connected to a drip and diagnosed as being severely dehydrated due to a gastro virus.
I won't go into the gruesome details, but it was not the weekend I would have wished for him, especially as we were supposed to be decorating the house for Christmas this weekend. Never mind, we'll go to Botanic to buy the tree tomorrow evening, and spend the week decorating little by little instead of all in one go.
We got out of the hospital this evening at 6pm, about 24hrs later than I expected, but it was important to check that the virus was beaten, and that everything had gone back to normal. All I can say is that he is a brave little soldier and that seeing him suffer during the tougher moments was like having my entrails pulled out. I stayed with him throughout - I was fortunate that I could, in 'hopital du jour', sitting mostly in pénombre while my son slept, had lovely medical and nursing staff, and was pretty happy with the treatment we got.
Naturally, the emergency department was extremely busy, and I think we were lucky to get a short-stay hospital room. It was an individual one, with ensuite loo and mother's 'porte lit' (put-me-up bed) and I paid nothing, although I pay every month, of course, towards the Secu. There was even a tele.
We are so incredibly happy to be home, unconnected to a drip, and able to sleep in our own beds. The rest is incidental.