This was the worst moment of my life, bar none.

So when I struggled to wake The Boy up from his afternoon nap today, I tried to tell myself not to panic. I failed. After a further ten minutes of failing to get him to wake up sufficiently enough to convince me that he was still just tired, I looked at my mum. She phoned the doctor back straight away and demanded that we saw the same doctor that we'd seen this morning.

He was lifeless; his arms hanging and me having to hold him upright. His lips were white, his skin deathly pale with huge purple shadows.

Carrying him into the surgery, the doctor was visibly surprised to see such a decline in the boisterous, polite, chatty toddler who he'd seen just six hours previously. The Boy was limp, clammy, pale, dazed with no energy. He looked over him, doing the checks (which thanks to reading various blog-posts over the past fortnight) I recognised as meningitus checks. He turned to me and said, "I'm seeing the same thing as you and I'd like you to go into the Children's Assessment Unit."

I almost crumbled to my knees there and then.

Coming back into the room two minutes later, he prepared and adminstered a shot of penicillin for The Boy and then made the phonecall warning them that we were on our way. We walked out, me carrying a floppy child and my husband rushing to get us into the car.

When we arrived at the CAU they were expecting us and assessed him quickly. The Boy had started to perk up a little, but looked so tiny sat in the middle of that adult bed clutching Oliver Monkey tightly. Big, hollow eyes with purple shadows stared at the nurse practitioner as she did the necessary checks and found he had gastritis and dehydration, hardly surprising as I'd been unable to get him to drink properly and he hadn't passed urine since 11am.

He was given some sandwiches to eat, which he wolfed down, and managed to drink 75ml of water. We were then discharged once he'd shown he could keep it down and had some colour back in his cheeks.

The Boy's sleeping in his cot now, and I have all my sense heightened to his needs. Will I sleep? Probably not. Have I cried? Slightly. The thought of my precious child limp and lifeless is too much to bear.

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  1. says

    how bloody scary for you. I can't imagine what you went through earlier today. Glad he picked up,hopefully it's over now & he's on the mend.

  2. Twopointfourchildren says

    How scarey and something you never really forget. I have just read your first post and it was heartbreaking. Do not blame yourself for anything. You are a good mum trying your best and all the while adoring your son. I really hope the boy has a settled night and tomorrow you both get to have a restful day xxxx

  3. says

    This is so horrible. Poor you. You must've been so worried.
    My friend went through exactly the same last year. Her daughter is allergic to Penicillin though so she didn't have the injection.

    Hope you are able to get some sleep and that the boy has turned a corner tomorrow xxx

  4. says

    Oh poor you, I hope the Boy gets better soon and have no doubt he will, I just hope you can recover from the experience soon too as I know they bounce back so quickly while we are left reeling.

    Thinking of you all

  5. Claire2101 says

    Welling up myself reading this, what a fright you must've got. Hope The Boy is much better today and aren't you glad you didn't go to work after all? Hope your boss is a little more understanding now. xxx

  6. says

    31/12/1999 – the exact same thing happened to me with K'Boo – when I said to the Doc in Primary Care "But I don't understand, my digital thermometer reads higher". He asked to use it, threw his in the bin & she was immediately rushed up to Ward 8 (Children's Ward at Royal Preston Hospital). By the time we got there her temperature had gone up again. I remember every minute like it was yesterday, the rushing nurses, the drip, the nurse who dropped simething on her head msking her cry, the cot with the undersized mattress she lay limp and colourless in, desperate tears as my family were not near and making preparations for the New Year & finally the panoramic firework display of all of Preston from our high up ward as they announced the 'all clear' & the world celebrated the Millenium – I had my own celebration as my First Born (6 months old) lay in my arms smiling!
    I totally understand why your moment was the worst ever and how hearing he was OK was more than likely the best. Tough stuff this parenting and for every awkward or horrid moment we have so many amazing and tear-filled proud moments to keep us going.
    Thanks for sharing – it's posts like this that make parenting the shared experience it is.

  7. says

    Glad The Boy is well now. That sounds bloody scary and I'm not sure how I would have coped in that kind of situation. Probably rung 999 but I know you're not supposed to do that kind of thing. Still, so scary isnt it? Hugs for both of you xxx

  8. jenny paulin says

    oh my goodness i completely missed this post yesterday. i have tears running down my cheeks after reading this and imaging how you must have felt. awful so bloody awful i imagine. oh and scary. thank goodness your mum was there and you both reacted so well to the situation. i hope you never have to go through that ever again. i hope he is recovering now and hugs and kisses to you both xx

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