One Way Ticket to A&E By Karen Legge
You know your child best. And you know when they’re not right. You can bet your bottom dollar it will be on a weekend or a bank holiday. For me it was a refusal of a gingerbread man and the desire to head home rather than bomb around the skate-park. It’s plain miserable to see your little love out of sorts. Home we went to snuggle on the sofa. Home we went to take his temperature and watch it steadily increase. Home we went to try and cajole him to take calpol and overcome his fear of syringes (a
result of some particularly nasty medicine we’d had to hold him down to take – poor little man has not recovered). Then the million-dollar question: to phone 111 or not to phone 111. In your heart of hearts you know they’re OK. But what if… What about that small chance that they’re not. If there were a flow chart it would go something like this: Call 111 -> Wait for a call-back from an advisor -> Be directed straight to Accident & Emergency -> Do not pass GO, do not collect £200. Because much like you, the medical professional on the other end of the line is just not willing to take the chance when it comes to little people either. You’ll go through the obligatory assessment with the myriad of questions that ‘may not seem relevant.’ Yes, he is conscious. No, he is not fighting for every breath. No, he has not bled profusely in the last few hours. But yes, he’s been up all night with belly-ache and none of us have had a jot of sleep. Yes he has a temperature of 38.9. Yes, he’s got ongoing issues with constipation and yes, I’m now convinced he has a compacted bowel or some horrific, related condition that a Google search will only further compound. Profound relief described my feelings when I was informed that Harry should see an out-of-hours GP rather than a trip to our local emergency room. ALICE & THE MUMS | 17
