Poison, Poop and Padded Cells! | Life Love and Hiccups: Poison, Poop and Padded Cells!
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Tuesday, 15 November 2011

Poison, Poop and Padded Cells!

Pin It *Warning - this post is PG - Poop Guaranteed. Please read on at your discretion.

So my hubby has managed to dodge the nutcracker suite for the moment with his tacklebox fully in tact. In case you are joining us for the first time, my hubby was due to have the snip yesterday, you can read all about it here - Honey - Please pass the nuts but due to a bout of food poisoning shared amongst our kids, he has been given, on loan from the good luck fairy, a get out of jail free card.

It had been a beautiful Saturday, spent pottering around the local garden centre. Flynn my youngest wasn't in the best mood but he seemed OK.

Perhaps these pictures should have been a hint of what was to come.

I left him to go to the toilet attached to the cafe, whilst I waited outside admiring the lavender. 

After all of 2 minutes I heard this almighty screech followed by a wailing "MUMMMMM I HAVE POOPED MY PANTS!" We apologised to the diners as we raced past them on the way to the bathroom to rescue Flynn from his poop problem. I won't go into details but it was definitely time to pay for our plants and head on home.

Later that day a 40 degree temp hit the poor child and he went down hill fast. When he started pooping blood we knew a trip to the Hospital was called for.

The first Dr we saw was very young and totally 'out there'. He told me that the best treatment for Flynn was love. Yep L.O.V.E oh and fairy tales too. Cause Flynn was obviously feeling very anxious and this you see can cause diarrhoea. He suggested that Flynn and I cuddle up on the bed together and read a book for a little while. Seriously!

Honestly I was so gobsmacked I just did what I was told, and up on the bed we got to snuggle. Flynn didn't want a bar of any fairytale though - nope his choice of drug was a Kung Fu Panda comic.

When the Dr came back to check on us I couldn't help but snarl at him - "So are you really telling me that anxiety is the cause of the forty degree temperature and bleeding from his butt too?
The Hippy Love Dr obviously not used to this type of outburst, quickly disappeared and was soon replaced by the Head Paediatrician.


"I suspect that your son has a form of food poisoning" he told me.
Ok then, this is not good, but it certainly makes more sense than anxiety and a severe fairytale deficiency I thought to myself.

"Have you eaten any take away chicken in the past 24 hours?" he enquired. "Because that is generally the cause of this type of food poisoning".

"Nope" I perhaps a little too smugly replied - "We rarely ever do take aways and we cook all our own chicken".

"Ah so YOU are responsible for poisoning your own child" he laughed oblivious to the power of his words.

KAPOW, BAM!!! Take that oh sensitive mother ego.

Flynn needed to be admitted for treatment and the Dr left me alone to explain to Flynn what was happening.

Soon after we were taken into the treatment room to get his drip put in, one of the two nurses turned to him and said "So little man, what brings you here?"

"My Mum poisoned me!" came his ever so friggin innocent reply.

The two nurses turned their eyes on to me and I nervously laughed. They kept staring at me......

"REALLY?" was all I could stutter out. "SERIOUSLY  REALLY???"

The Hippy Love Dr reappeared to commence the treatment. "It's food poisoning" I hissed at him before he could recommend The Three Little Pigs or something as equally ridiculous.

One of the nurses said to Flynn, "OK, we are going to put the little needle in your hand now sweetheart". Well, with the mention of the word needle Flynn started screaming.... loudly ..... very very loudly. The nurse turned those accusing eyes on me again and said 'Didn't you tell him what we were going to do?"

I nervously laughed and with my eyes shamefully directed towards the ground I said "No....... I thought I would give you the pleasure" Sheesh this was really going well.

We held Flynn down to put the canula in. One nurse held his legs and I lent across his upper body and cradled his face in my hands to stop him looking at what they were doing to his hand and arm.

"Owwwww it hurts Mummy" he cried.

"I know honey - but the nice Dr has to do it" I soothed reassuringly.

"No! your hurting me Mummy" he wailed with a fresh batch of tears.

More evil looks from the nurse.

"Do you want me to get my husband" Was all I could come up with.

Flynn was given a Trauma Teddy to cuddle and it was suggested very politely that it might be better if I sit on a chair next to him whilst the Dr and nurses do what they have to do. Flynn named his new teddy Mr Curry as in 'No Worry Beef Curry' - his favourite saying of the week. So the kid can't say the alphabet yet - but he certainly rocks when it comes to cool sayings.

By this stage I was waiting for a Psych Dr to arrive and haul me off to a padded cell where I can't hurt myself of anyone else for that matter. At the very least I half expected a DOCs representative to come in and tell me my parenting skills are an utter joke and my parenting license has been disqualified. But nope, what I did get was a phone call from my hubby telling me the other two boys had started with the diarrhoea and tummy pains.

Geez - how thrilled was I to inform everyone in the room that we had successfully poisoned all 3 of our kids.

I have to say I was very relieved when we were moved up to the Kids ward and away from the ego crushing Emergency Department.

The next 24 hours saw my hubby and I and 3 kids holed up in the isolation ward presumably to stop us spreading disease, though my ego told me it was the equivalent of the earlier mentioned padded cell.

Today finds us home again, but not exactly free from poop patrol. Flynn is still pooping and it seems the 2 dogs have decided to share in the poop love too. I'm not sure if it is out of sympathy or if it is all just a part of the universe's conspiracy to give me a crappy week as punishment for poisoning my beautiful children with my obviously appalling culinary skills.

I can't help but wonder - with my husband's vasectomy cancelled, did the psychic know something after all?

 Flynn and Mr Curry

 Linking up with Diary of a SAHM for I Blog On Tuesdays.