Getting the balance right

I will never forget the day I got the call to say POD had had a fit. I will always be thankful ‘The POD Father’ was working from home that day. He was able to get to nursery before the ambulance arrived and travelled with her to A&E.

I always hoped I wouldn’t hear the words “Poppy has had a fit”. I was diagnosed with epilepsy in 1983 following an eventful seizure in a swimming pool. For years the words “you’ve had a fit” have always haunted me. To hear almost the same said about my baby made me feel sick to my stomach. And I wasn’t there for her. I was in London.

Although it felt like a week had passed, I managed to get back to Guildford in an incredible 50 minutes. At the time I was appalled with myself for not keeping it together during the journey. Looking back I think it was my body’s way of setting free the much stronger character beneath  the tears.

I had no idea what to expect when I arrived at the hospital. Whatever it was, I didn’t anticipate seeing POD lying naked on a bed completely motionless. I thought she was sleeping but she wasn’t. Her eyes were open but there was nothing behind them. She was limp and lifeless. Her breathing was wrong but not in an asthmatic kind of way.

POD had a febrile seizure at nursery. This type of fit typically occurs when a child has a fever and their temperature spikes too quickly. If they do happen they generally occur at around 18 months until the age of 5. This day was exactly 18 months after POD was born. Often a child’s body will become stiff, they lose consciousness and their arms and legs twitch. Although febrile seizures can be frightening, they don’t normally pose a threat to a child’s health.

Unless it might be something else. Like Meningitis. Unbeknownst to us, POD had several symptoms including clusters of minuscule red spots. They were difficult to see and a far cry from a recent skin infection. But these spots didn’t fade when they were supposed to. Factor in fever, sickness and the seizure, the situation was getting more frightening by the minute.

In the hours that followed, POD showed improvement. She sipped some water and had a wee whilst lying in my lap. Fetching a nappy from a room that displayed the Meningitis poster was a stark reminder we weren’t out of the woods.

Blood tests were necessary to rule out Meningitis, Septicemia and some other nasties. POD was going to be admitted to hospital then she wasn’t. Someone was hoping to take blood but found they couldn’t as her veins were so tiny. After three failed attempts at obtaining blood, it was left to a consultant who had just come on the night shift. His solution was to turn out all the lights and shine a torch underneath her wrist so he could see her veins. It was heart wrenching to see POD being held down again amidst her “dada dada” cries. The nurse trying to be helpful insisted on asking if I was alright. I wasn’t but it’s that age old scenario. Don’t ask me if I’m alright and I’ll be fine. Ask me again and I will bawl like you’ve never seen an adult bawl before.

It was 11.30pm when they admitted POD for the night. She was put on a drip that was bandaged round the entirety of her tiny arm. And there she lay. Poorly and exhausted. The consultant said he hoped she’d not have another febrile seizure overnight but it was a possibility. With our car locked in the nursery car park, an amazing friend kindly took me home to collect some belongings. Then, when I was done faffing around, drove me to a 24 hour Tesco to buy some food. We’d obviously not eaten.

In the room at the hospital, The POD Father and I took it in turns to rest on the single bed. We were both shattered but one of us had to stay awake to watch POD. It was a long night but the morning saw a much improved toddler. She was walking around again and her personality began to return.

By the time the consultant arrived to see her, she was attempting to pull various tubes out of the hospital walls. She was deemed far too well to stay in the hospital. Her initial test results revealed nothing sinister so we returned home. Although POD declined a bit that afternoon, she was back to her perky self a couple of days later. Never have I been so relieved to see those sparkly blue eyes and that cheeky little smile.

At that point in time, and until recently, the work/life balance was most definitely wrong. I was catapulted from seeing POD all the time to hardly seeing her during the week. If it wasn’t work, there would be a journey delay of some kind. Now I have my own business and although it brings it’s own new challenges, at least I get to see POD every day. And that’s what matters.

I haven’t got the balance right yet, as I invariably find myself staring at a computer screen into the early hours, but I hope to achieve that sometime soon. What about you?