Medications and children don't mix!

As if the incident with the burglary was not enough to make me feel like a downright twit, I had to go the whole hog to thoroughly disgrace myself in my daughter-in-law's home.
What now?  You may ask.  Yes, ask that again and I will tell you.

If you have kept up with the rest of my blog updates, you will know that I am a chronic pain sufferer.  Not because I want to be, no - but because I have a cervical vertebral problem that is being medically treated (i.e. with medicine) as long as possible (that is until kidney failure kills me instead the doctors are hoping) - preferably to undergoing surgery which could prove fatal (what doctor wants to perform an operation that could result in total lack of success?).

Enough said about it.  I am on several million types of medicines to see me through each day.  Now knowing that kiddies and meds do not go well together and that the vast majority of overdoses result from kiddies finding grandma or grandpa's medications right there on the bedside cabinet - I was determined this would not happen to one of my grandchildren.

Well aware of the dangers, I kept my medications zipped up in my handbag and placed it right on the top shelf of the nursery where I was ensconced.

 

 

Lo and behold as kiddies do, some came over to play with my grandchild.  It was great, it was fun and they had a ball.  Two played outside and one little girl aged three, played in the nursery alone.

Their play time came to an end and now it was time to dress the Christmas tree.  It was also time for my medication.  Into the nursery I went to find to my absolute horror, my handbag full of pills had been removed from the very top shelf and placed on the very bottom shelf of the cupboard!

Who had moved it?  Tessa, my dear daughter-in-law.  So naive it's frightening.  Alarm bells started to ring as I checked all my medications carefully.  And there it was - an empty pill vial, staring at me.  Glaring at me in accusation.  Fleeting images of sleeping child, child being given emetic, child with burst blood vessels in the eyes from vomiting, child with no pulse - all these images came to mind.

I went through to the Christmas Tree and the kiddies and parents swimming around it.  I announced "8 of my blue pills are missing.  The vial is empty.  One of them is enough to knock me out for a night."  No-one cared.  Certainly not after the burglary incident.  They all thought I was a nutcase and they were not far wrong either.  They continued to place baubles on the tree and I continued to speak to the air "If one of these blue pills can knock an adult out for a night, imagine what it can do to a small child?"  - No response.

"I am concerned for the little one that played alone in the nursery!"  - No response.

"What if...."  A mother said "45 minutes have passed, the children would have been showing symptoms by now".  Another mother gave her toddler an empty vial to try to open and said victoriously "See!  She cannot open it!"

Both mothers agreed they were not prepared to put their children through stomach washes and would wait until they were symptomatic.

Symptomatic?  Where they mad or was I?  "Yes, let's just wait until one of the children's pulses stop.  The Christmas Tree decorations are after all, FAR more important."  That's what I said and then I went to the nursery, closed the door and wondered why I even cared.

I checked and re-checked my handbag and some time after the kiddies had left I found 8 little blue pills smiling up at me from the chemist's small plastic bag inside one of the handbag's linings.  Of course I was embarrassed (especially after the burglary incident I must repeat again and again and again).  But embarrassment took second place.  I triumphantly announced that the little blue pills had been found!  I went to Tessa's neighbours and showed them as well - no need to worry, the pills were not inside their three year old.  They were kind and they were understanding.  After all, I did place my handbag way out of reach of any child.  And on phoning their doctor had learned that my little blue pills were only harmful if more than 12 were swallowed in which case the child could receive an antidote in the form of an injection.

Tessa was not so understanding.  What kind of mother-in-law-from-hell was this that was staying with her?  I couldn't blame her.  I just heard her say "That's IT!!" and I knew that my goose was cooked - or my visit really - was overstayed by a burglary and an overdose.

I went to sleep exceptionally angry at myself.  But as the night progressed I realised that it was TESSA who had been negligent.  SHE had moved my bag - and why?  Why I did not know and did not care except that it had been done and could have resulted in an emergency.

Another drill?  Perhaps.  That's not how Tessa saw it!!
No doubt about it - she was glad to see the back of me!!

Bye-Bye from a crazy Nanna!!!

 

 

Smacking - is it ever condoned?

Hello again!  An update.  Francine (2.5 yrs old) was dropped off at my place last night after a week of bronchitis, vomiting and diarrhea.  For this she had taken strong antibiotics and it left her with a case of bad nappy rash.  So Nanna was the preferable place for her to be plonked.  What Nanna worth her salt would ever say "No" - ?  

Today I took the little mite (her weight has dropped to 11.46kg) to the clinic.  There she amazed me by sitting quietly waiting - and waiting, and waiting.

We waited for three hours!!  If she had been restless I would have had to leave long before that time.  I was duly impressed by her self control.  I was having trouble containing my own waiting for so long.

As we waited, a mother came in with a toddler clinging to her skirt and crying.  A cute little boy in denim clothing.  To my astonishment, she pulled his hand firmly away and carried on walking to her seat where she picked him up and almost threw him onto the chair next to her.  He was only about 18 months of age.  After a few minutes, she got up, pulled him up and whacked him once but very hard on his bottom.  He almost fell with the intensity of the smack.  The lady sitting next to me was horrified and so was I.  Shocked, she turned to me and said "Any other mother would have picked him up and pacified him!"  and I added "Yes, all he needs is some love and assurance - he is probably ill or petrified of this place".  Francine-Rose looked on mortified.  She crept onto my lap.

I felt a fury rise inside me as I heard the toddler yelling all the way down the passage.  Again, I told myself "Who will speak up for a little child?"

I had this vivid image of myself grabbing that mother from behind and pulling her around to ask what she thought she was doing.  And another image quickly followed of her giving me a resounding slap and asking what business it was of mine, then disappearing with the poor little fellow without getting any medical treatment.  Instead, I sat there wondering what I should do.

Before I could decide, the mother returned and the little boy was fast asleep in her arms.  She sat down and fell asleep herself.  I was still shocked at her former behaviour.  As I looked at her, one of the doctors walked by and stopped in front of her.  "How are you doing sweetie?" she asked the mother.  She responded by telling her she felt like death.

I sat back trying to feel sorry for her.  I thought back to the time I had little children and tried to remember how they can drive you to frustration.  I tried to have mercy.  She could have AIDS or TB.  She could have some other terminal illness - these were my thoughts.

But nothing could overcome the feeling of repulsion I felt for this large woman bearing down on that tiny little boy who was shuddering with unshed sobs as he slept in her lap.

Eventually, when it was time to take Francine into the doctor, I opened up and I reported her to the doc.  "Not much we can do.  Parents take offence when you try to interfere", the doctor said.

I walked off with Francine-Rose and her meds in her push-chair.  I had promised her a treat.  We went off to get it.  And as I walked I thought - if that was another adult and he had been assaulted in the same way - she could have found herself in trouble.

Is there ever an excuse for venting your anger on a defenceless child?

I think not.

This entry is dedicated to all little children everywhere who are abused either physically or emotionally.