Rowan Tree and Red Thread

Rowan & I are home again. She doing better but seems to be running a fever
too so there's a likelihood of an infection (probably urinary tract)
coincident with the concussion. Neurologically she seems to be fine though
and that's a big relief.

She's sleeping on the couch now beside Sam and I'm just heading to bed now
for a nap. I don't think any of us had a good night's sleep last night.

Thanks everyone for the good wishes and positive thoughts.

Only this time it's my daughter Rowan who is the patient.

She fell earlier today and banged her head good & proper on the ground. She
seemed fine then but a few hours later she vomited a couple of times and
we're all in A&E now waiting for a doctor to examine her[1].

It's my wife's turn next when offspring #2 arrives in March. Let's hope she
doesn't get jealous of husband and daughter hogging the medical limelight
and try to get into hospital early with a crisis of her own.

[1] We took her first to a late night GP service in Cork where the doctor
examined her and sent her home. One incident of vomiting wasn't too worrying
he said. Later Rowan vomited again and now we're in the A&E.

Well I've had better nights. I had some difficulty getting to sleep last
night and was rather thrown by a fit of crying that seemed to come on me
from nowhere just after midnight. I don't really know if it was
post-operative stress getting the better of me, my natural feelings of
frustration and helplessness bubbling up or, as the doctor on call
suggested, possibly some post-op effect on my thyroid. She had just come
from an endrocrine rotation, I think, so perhaps her diagnosis was coloured
by her recent training. Whatever the cause, it was disturbing to be so out
of control emotionally, and to be confronted with the possibility that my
emotional state could be physically affected so.

I did sleep in the end with the aid of a sleeping tablet. This morning the
team have been round again and it looks like another day of observation. The
doctor took blood last night and my calcium levels are being monitored as
before. As best I understand it I have to wait until my body makes up its
mind and starts working with the new parathyroid hormone levels.

It's frustrating that ultimately it's up to me to fix myself but it's at a
level I have no control over.

Earlier today the consultant came round and told me I'd be going home today.
Unfortunately my calcium levels are still a bit low and I've had more
tingling sensations in my hands and arms. The supplement they gave my
earlier doesn't seem to have taken effect yet but a couple of quick tests
show that the problem is not too pronounced. I suspect that my body is just
taking longer to adjust to the new situation than I'd like but there's a
possibility that I'm not producing enough PTH now the enlarged gland is
removed, or that there's some other problem metabolising calcium.

I suspect I'm going to be stuck here another night though, unless my calcium
levels stabilise soon. Shite.

I'm still in hospital, but doing pretty well. My parents-in-law have just
dropped by with a care package from home (Sam and Rowan can't come into the
hospital because of the winter vomiting bug clamp-down). Included was a new
picture drawn by Rowan. It shows three figures, one smiling, curly-haired
blond, one round-tummied, long-haired, and one bearded chap, bald in the
middle. I am ludricrously touched by this.

Well, the consultant showed up last night around 7.30 and gave Rowan leave to go home from the hospital. The various blood and urine tests hadn't shown up anything, her appetite was improving and he didn't think staying hospital was doing much for her. She's still fairly reluctant to drink enough but we're pestering her for little amounts often. I think the real improvement came yesterday afternoon when the doctor who had admitted her at 2am on Thursday morning, Dr. Eche, came around to have a check on her and said she needed some fresh air and "mobilization". That is, take her outside and work up an appetite. The man's a genius. Trotting about the grounds of the hospital, picking dandelions, placing bits of gravel in long rows and generally exploring the world seemed to perk Rowan up no end.

So we're all home again, and we're to watch Rowan's intake of fluids carefully. There's a slight question of mild anemia, which we can address with an iron supplement later. Apart from that we're none the wiser as to what was wrong with her or whether she's clear of it or likely to go through all this again. Until last Wednesday I would have said she was getting better.