I've managed to date to keep this blog up to date daily as the title suggests while sitting at the side of Evan's hospital cot each evening.
Day 10 was very different and its well into day 11 or Wednesday as I think some people call it.
Monday had Evan getting back on form smiling and flirting with nurses, then yesterday went completely hay wire.
From the morning he was really unsettled and breathing heavy, and both his nurse and the cardiac junior doctor were concerned so on the morning ward round a chest x-ray was ordered.
But as the day went on he became more unsettled, greyer, his breathing became more laboured and what really hurt as a parent, its at time like this you want to lift your child and hold them as tight as you can, but due to all the wires and lines that wasn't possible.
To try and easy him the physio had come and gave him a session which did seem to ease him a little, and then he had his x-ray, and a dose of Chlor to see if some sleep would help, but he just keep fighting the sleep and crying.
Jenny was propping him up in the cot on some pillows and I was washing my hands at the sink at the end of his cot when a doctor appeared and just shouted "CRASH", my first thought was "Oh God help some wee soul" when I looked at Jenny and then Jenny looked at me and the penny dropped, she meant Evan!
You can watch a crash call on television all you want, but only someone who has been in the middle of one, knows what seems to be chaos is actually such a well rehearsed, drilled almost military operation. Within seconds and I mean seconds there were doctors, sisters and nurses at the side of Evan's cot, and in an almost daze like state me both moved away.
In a further matter of seconds there was the crash cart, Tech Team, two surgeons and a number of consultants, one of the cardiac consultants quickly took control, quietly said re-suss not needed, and people disappeared as quickly as they had appeared. The consultant again very quietly said pneumothorax transfer to ICU, and just at that point the physio appeared very out of breath, she had been waiting on the x-ray and had saw the shadow on his right lung and had ran to the ward, to find Evan being prepared to be moved, I have since learned that she was unaware of the "Crash call" and had thought someone had viewed the x-ray before her and made the call.
The cardiac liaison nurse was with us, and asked if I was alright probably not the right question to ask me at that particular time...
While Evan was taken up in the lift, the liaison nurse, Jenny & I went up the stairs into ICU, to be shown where he was going to go, were offered tea twice, while we waited, all that was going through my head was "where is, what's keeping them, why isn't he here yet?"
Then the cot appeared, he was transferred to the bed, and roughly within 20mins of the call, Evan had a drain fitted and 75ml of fluid drained from his right lung and was knocked out for the count.
The care and attention he received there was excellent as is in any intensive care unit.
But as a number of family and friends have pointed out nothing has ever been straight forward with Evan, and with his blue eyes and his already cheeky grin I doubt they ever will be.
It's now into Thursday night as I finish this as I still can't quite get my head around what exactly happened.
To try and easy him the physio had come and gave him a session which did seem to ease him a little, and then he had his x-ray, and a dose of Chlor to see if some sleep would help, but he just keep fighting the sleep and crying.
Jenny was propping him up in the cot on some pillows and I was washing my hands at the sink at the end of his cot when a doctor appeared and just shouted "CRASH", my first thought was "Oh God help some wee soul" when I looked at Jenny and then Jenny looked at me and the penny dropped, she meant Evan!
You can watch a crash call on television all you want, but only someone who has been in the middle of one, knows what seems to be chaos is actually such a well rehearsed, drilled almost military operation. Within seconds and I mean seconds there were doctors, sisters and nurses at the side of Evan's cot, and in an almost daze like state me both moved away.
In a further matter of seconds there was the crash cart, Tech Team, two surgeons and a number of consultants, one of the cardiac consultants quickly took control, quietly said re-suss not needed, and people disappeared as quickly as they had appeared. The consultant again very quietly said pneumothorax transfer to ICU, and just at that point the physio appeared very out of breath, she had been waiting on the x-ray and had saw the shadow on his right lung and had ran to the ward, to find Evan being prepared to be moved, I have since learned that she was unaware of the "Crash call" and had thought someone had viewed the x-ray before her and made the call.
The cardiac liaison nurse was with us, and asked if I was alright probably not the right question to ask me at that particular time...
While Evan was taken up in the lift, the liaison nurse, Jenny & I went up the stairs into ICU, to be shown where he was going to go, were offered tea twice, while we waited, all that was going through my head was "where is, what's keeping them, why isn't he here yet?"
Then the cot appeared, he was transferred to the bed, and roughly within 20mins of the call, Evan had a drain fitted and 75ml of fluid drained from his right lung and was knocked out for the count.
The care and attention he received there was excellent as is in any intensive care unit.
But as a number of family and friends have pointed out nothing has ever been straight forward with Evan, and with his blue eyes and his already cheeky grin I doubt they ever will be.
It's now into Thursday night as I finish this as I still can't quite get my head around what exactly happened.
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