Thursday, 25 January 2007

Private Hell

One of those days when I regret being a parent.

Tired from the previous night's worries. Got home to find the boy at auntie's. The wife said he'd been difficult for most of the day. Happy to make me coffee and play on auntie's bed. But did not want to leave. Made a fuss and struggled when I tried to get him dressed to leave. Wouldn't go in the buggy and had to be carried home, still struggling. All the while saying "no home".

Still crying when we got home. Became incandescent with rage when I took him for his bath. Shouting, kicking and twisting when I tried to get him undressed. All of which made him choke from secretions. So I had to periodically break off to suction him, allowing him to run away. Then he really lost it.

Pulling at his central line, thrashing around, banging his head on the floor. Eventually got him undressed and put him in the bath. But he was flinging himself around. The wife got him in a grapple hold and was trying to reason with him. He was way, way beyond reason.

Inevitably when we abandoned the bath on safety grounds, he got more upset and wanted to go back in. Eventually, forced him to get dry and into pyjamas. But decided it was not safe to change his trachy tapes. He did ultimately calm down and read a book and say goodnight.

I know all small children do this from time to time. I know that he doesn't get quite that bad very often. But the trachy makes it all much more dangerous. And it makes life seem that bit worse from what is already a low base.

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