Monday, 25 March 2013

The One With The Hospital, The Hot Doctor and the Swift Kick

As I mentioned in my previous blog about my Grandad's funeral, the boy has been in hospital.

In fact the boy has been in hospital twice. Once for 7 days while they tried to control the swelling in the lymph gland in his neck with antibiotics then, after a week at home, back for 5 more days while they did a short operation to drain the fluid from the gland, after it became clear that the drugs weren't going to be enough.

Hospitals aren't a natural environment for me. I'm scared stiff of people being sick, as I've mentioned before, so I am in turns baffled, grateful and admiring of people who choose to spend their working lives caring for the poorly. I couldn't do it, but thank goodness for those who do.

You hear horror stories about the NHS. I heard one only the other day about a good friend that frightened the life out of me, but the staff on the paediatric ward were amazing and the ear, nose and throat doctor who treated the case was... well... how shall I put it... easy on the eye. Well he was easy on my eyes anyway.And those of Nanny P who also confessed that he was "very nice indeed".

Don't judge us. We're only flesh and blood.

So on the day the boy was released from hospital after his operation, said Hot Doc (for that shall be his blog name- I'm shallow I know) had to exam the boys neck and throat area where the swelling had been.

"Hold him tight up against you" he advised me "With his back towards you, and put your hand on his forehead so you are holding his head back."

I duly obliged. Now as many of you know I'm a rather well endowed lady in the bosom department and I was wearing a wrap around top. I wouldn't say the boys were out of the barracks but they may have been just peeking over the top a bit!

I was sitting down and in order to check the boys throat Hot Doc had to look downwards as he stood over us. Not only did he get an eyeful but he had no option, with the boy jammed up against me jubblies,but to get a hand full as well. OK, more of a brush past the bad boys but it didn't stop me blushing like a schoolgirl on a first date.

To his credit he was extremely professional. When he left Nanny P turned to me and said

"You're embarrassed. You never get embarrassed."

She was right. I was. I must be losing it.

Then last Friday we had to return to the hospital for the boy to have a check up and make sure everything was healing nicely two weeks on from the op. Who should we get for our appointment but the Hot Doc.

He recognised us straight away. At this point I will say that was more to do with the boy and his reputation for screaming the moment a doctor or nurse came within 3 feet of him and not because of my charms.

The results of the swab were back and nothing nasty was found in the pus drained from the abscess. It was completely sterile and nothing to worry about, just a result of severe tonsillitis and nothing more sinister. What a relief. So Hot Doc just needed to have a feel of the neck, make sure the wound was healing OK and look down the boys throat to check the tonsils were now clear.

"You hold him again Mum, right up against you. Hold his arms down with one hand and his head back with the other."

I knew the drill. I was more modestly dressed that day with a high neck jumper on.. well it was a cold day... and I didn't know we were seeing Hot Doc again did I!

The boy struggled. Having one of those lollipop stick things down your throat is never popular, with anyone, but let alone the boy. Hot Doc leaned in to try and look into his mouth. Suddenly I realised that while I had the boys arms and head no one was covering the legs....

Too late!

The boy lashed out with alarming speed and accuracy. Hot Doc got a swift kick in the nadgers for his trouble.

If you thought I was embarrassed last time I was mortified now. For a brief second I considered offering to rub it better but even I thought better of it.

"Got his own back there for the scar on his neck didn't he" Hot Doc winced through a professional smile.

Either that or revenge for you feeling up his Mum's boobs....

It's a tough call.

And it's tougher in the NHS than we ever imagined.... especially when they have to treat the boy!

1 comment:

  1. Funnily enough, during my hospital stay last year the only female member of staff that aroused my interest was the specialist hypertension nurse. I am sure this had no bearing on my blood pressure results at all...