Popping into hospital the other day for a check on the baby bump turned into a little unexpected adventure that I really wasn’t expecting this week. As these checks usually last about twenty minutes I thought nothing of taking Little Z with me as he loves it so much. There is the “cinema” in the waiting room where he happily watches all the baby and pram adverts on repeat whilst munching on some snack or other. He then watches in fascination as my blood pressure is taken and various gadgets are turned on to let us listen to the baby. He has a very strong love of both technology and anything that involves checking patients over.
This particular check quickly involved a bit of intense commotion followed by some surprise jabs and them telling me I wasn’t going home that night as I would need a sliding scale. A what? Having watched one too many movies the first thing that came to me was how it would make a good title to a summer blockbuster.
It turns out a sliding scale is a long slow drip of insulin administered to diabetics after certain situations. They start it off at a certain level and reduce it through the course of it whilst your body regulates itself to the latest changes. The doctor explained that the jab they had given to me would result in knocking out my sugar levels for a while and the insulin drip would help to regulate it all. The only thing was that it would be a 12 hour process; meaning I wasn’t going anywhere that night. On top of that, I would need a second jab in the morning and then another 24 hour drip. And my bloods would have to be monitored hourly. Through the night. On the hour. Every hour. Oh dear.
So started a blur of 36 hours of a slow insulin drip and learning to wheel my drip around like some bad trolley from Tescos. I discovered it takes until the second night to start becoming grumpy and slightly delirious with no sleep but it only takes half a night, I would say around 4am, to lose your temper and shout over to the girl on the next bed who has been on the phone to her friends and relatives ALL night long . She eventually put her phone down and spent the next day snoring away. I did warm to her after night 2 when she had her baby but sadly I didn’t get to see what her baby looked like. In fact, I probably couldn’t pick her out of a line up either.
The midwives and doctors were amazing and I really don’t know how they keep going hour after hour, patient after patient, task after task with all the compassion that they do. It really does take a special type of person and I was very lucky to have a rota of extremely nice ones that kept me laughing through all the countless wake ups. At one point I was told I was their least serious patient but the one that needed the most monitoring. I was half tempted to offer my blood to them through the night for my hourly checks on the understanding they didn’t wake me up. I was’t brave enough to suggest it, but I bet people have in the past. It’s a reasonable offer, right?
Apparently, once the baby is born I will need another sliding scale, depending on what drugs are used. As complicated as gestational diabetes seems to be, I am assured it will go once the baby arrives so here is still hoping.
So this weekend seemed like a very good time to actually pack my hospital bag and stick it in the boot. In all the washing I found Little Z’s 2010 outfit. One of his very first outfits. Sadly I haven’t found a 2015 equivalent yet but the hunt goes on!
(Week 4 of Project 52)