I think it would help me to write about it but I’m scared. I want to forget it all.
Her pale face in my face every day means I can’t relax yet though. We’re both sick of hearing ‘are you alright?’ but we keep asking each other, and others keep asking us.
On Monday night youngest’s gp left a voicemail saying ‘take her to emergency as soon as you get this’. Her follow up blood test from that morning revealed an alarmingly low haemoglobin level.
An hour later I waited out the front of the inner city ER, in the teeth chattering cold, for her boyfriend to drop her off.
For the rest of the night her teeth chattered when nerves gripped her.
I hope my terror didn’t show. I nearly lost my baby. I nearly lost my mind.
The first four hours we were in the hell realms, details best forgotten – how did that doctor get a visa, a licence to attempt cannulation…over and over. Her arms so bruised, wasted blood she needed. And the other punters? Let’s be grateful it was Monday not Friday or Saturday but the location of that big city hospital determines the clientele will be interesting in the small hours…at least four police in attendance all night and the shackle bed in use. Imagine leaving this earth, this time, listening to the yelling man from cubicle one..
We didn’t sleep that night, but I really haven’t slept since.
She spent the night hooked up as someone else’s blood dripped in (thank you thank you thank you), and then so much iron over so many hours. ‘Procedures’ over the following days have given no answers so the pale face haunts me while I fear it happening again. We just watch and wait.