Trying to put a needle (for the peripheral venous catheter) in Abbe was, as always, adventurous. And this time it just wouldn’t work. No needle. We have a few favourite nurses in ward 323, they know exactly how to get the needle in place, almost always on the first try. But the rest of them haven’t really got a clue. And when clueless they pull out the mask. I sometimes wonder why the bother at all, with the needle bit, I mean. The mask is there, isn’t it? But I think they’ve somehow got more control over the intravenous procedure.
When Abbe opened his eyes he was as pitiable. His throat all sore after the intubation (respirator) and gastroscopy (camera in tube down throat) and his eyes filled with silent accusation. How can you let them do this to me? Mum? Dad?
Good question, that.
About this blog.
Abbe is the greatest little character. A fighter with a congenital heart defect. A sweetheart with a chromosomal aberration. These are my memos and thoughts from Abbes birth and on.
.... If you want to follow us from day one, please scroll to the bottom of the blog - to mid-March 2005.
....The postings are currently being translated from Swedish to English. Eventually we will reach todays date.
.... Then you can read it from the top, like a usual blog. About an unusual boy.
.... If you want to follow us from day one, please scroll to the bottom of the blog - to mid-March 2005.
....The postings are currently being translated from Swedish to English. Eventually we will reach todays date.
.... Then you can read it from the top, like a usual blog. About an unusual boy.
Who comments?
What does it mean?
"Heja Abbe & Brorsan" is Swedish and translates roughly into "Go Abbe & Bro". I didn't translate it because I kind of like the header the way it is.
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