By now we are in 2019 and Harry seems to being well. He is bright, funny and loved by everyone who meets him. Despite his angelic curls and huge eyes he is also ridiculously mischievous and has a penchant for “art” when Mummy’s back is turned and biting his ever tolerant older sister!
Harry, however, still refuses to sleep and spends a great deal of the night bashing Matt over the head with hard toys (he never goes for teddy bear), crying or generally toddling around looking for trouble.
A couple of weeks ago Lewis was ill with tonsillitis Despite having his tonsils out last year he still get bad bouts. It was half-term so all the kids were home and as it was their Dad’s (Mike’s) day he had come to ours to look after them there. The kids and their Dad waved Harry and I off to work, whilst Lewis lay on the sofa watching some early morning trite. Harry babbled in his car seat, waited until I had steered the car into a place where it was virtually impossible to stop and then threw-up, everywhere. He then went limp and greyish. I turned the car round and sped straight back home. Mike answered the door, took one look at Harry and said his eyes aren’t focusing.
Ironically, neither adult had a working mobile phone. Mine was charging in the car and Mike had put his down somewhere. The thirteen year old of course has his glued to him. We called the ambulance on this. Whilst I was on the phone, Harry came back to us. He sat up looked around and then promptly bit his sister – we stood the ambulance down!
I told the call handler that I would take him straight to the Doctor (Lewis after-all was already going – might as well go on mass!)
When we arrived Harry seemed vacant, although not as bad as his older brother who was quite rightly quite put out that Harry had again stolen his thunder. Our lovely GP, spoke to the hospital- “sorry” she said “but you need to go”. Lewis is also looking dodgy. Strong antibiotics for him and if he is not showing improvements in four hours, he can join you!
I left Lewis with his Dad and took Harry in. When we got there Harry screamed. He hated the machines that go beep – I think he recognises the noise now and it’s association. He also freaked out at nurses in blue uniforms, so much so that the Care Assistants tossed a coin to see who was the poor bugger to have prick Harry – he just looked too scared and too cute to stick a pin in his thumb to test his blood sugar!
We were then sent up to the ward where he appeared vacant again, so they called St Georges. Matt meanwhile had driven from central London, after having to duck out of yet another meeting to be by Harry’s side (before this happened you never consider the practical side of caring for a child with a complex needs). Up until this point Harry had been vacant, floppy and disengage with everything and everyone. Matt walked in the lightbulb switched on – Harry was back!
It was decided that we could then go home, but Harry’s ‘funny turn’ would need investigating further. Two weeks later we were back in the car driving to St Georges, wondering whether or not Harry had had a fit.