tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-51255320063021216472024-02-07T03:40:15.932+01:00Go AbbeAbbes pappahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02859189935965919022noreply@blogger.comBlogger207125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5125532006302121647.post-4853534843808966782012-12-28T22:39:00.000+01:002013-01-06T22:14:04.565+01:00Welcome!This is how it is. This post will be at the top for a while. That does not mean that nothing happens in here. You see, the blog was originally written in Swedish and it is currently being translated post by post, from March 2005 until the present date. It'll take time, since I'm also updating the swedish version of this blog on a on a daily basis.<br />
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Eventually I will catch up with the present, then this particular post will be gone. In the meantime i suggest that you start reading the blog from <a href="http://english.hejaabbe.com/2008/07/from-beginning.html" target="_blank">the first post</a>. This blog is best if read from scratch.<br />
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Please leave a comment if you like.<br />
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Enjoy.Abbes pappahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02859189935965919022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5125532006302121647.post-28170042658333910612007-10-31T22:07:00.000+01:002013-01-13T20:52:47.651+01:00Trick or treat?It’s a strange life I’m living at the moment. I come home a few hours every other day, replace the dirty clothes in my rucksack with clean ones, sleep, drive big brother to the kindergarten and then return to the hospital. I hardly know what’s in our fridge back home.
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Tonight, Abbe’s brother and myself were watching a children’s programme on the telly when suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Outside were three witches. "Trick or treat?" they shouted.
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Oh my God, is it Halloween today
Abbes pappahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02859189935965919022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5125532006302121647.post-75346401994878133332007-10-31T21:02:00.000+01:002013-01-13T20:52:41.747+01:00Short update.His temperature has been kept below 38.4º C today. Admittedly with the help of paracetamol, but still. CRP slightly up again, bot nothing dramatic. The day started pretty much as it ended yesterday, i.e. with a couple of helpings of proper nose bleeding.
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The doctors think Abbe’s temperature is a totally natural reaction to the newly transplated homograft (a human vessel from a donator) so yesterday they started a course of ASA (aspirin) in order to deal with it. The problem is, aspirin also thins the blood which makes the nosebleeding even worse. So, today they stopped the ASA again. Catch 22 or what.
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By the way, I have been meaning for days to try and explain what they have done to Abbe this time. The actual operation, I mean. It’ll come, I promise. Maybe tomorrow.
Abbes pappahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02859189935965919022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5125532006302121647.post-23032610663904668162007-10-31T13:00:00.000+01:002013-01-13T20:52:36.737+01:00Go, play therapy!I’ve become a real softie. I might as well admit it. I don’t know if it’s because of Abbe’s journey or if it’s just part of being a father, generally. But it only takes something nice, loving and deserving for that bloody lump in my throat to start swelling.
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Today, it was the play therapy. At the ground level here at the hospital, there is a facility for children of all ages. And it’s not about tests, X-ray, operations or examinations. It’s not even a waiting room. No, it’s a whole department, actually very big, even – with the sole purpose of making the children feel good. To give children whose days are filled with examinations, medicines and jabs something else to think about for a while. And that includes their brothers and sisters.
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There are lots of toys in all shapes or forms, really nice rally- and Formula 1 style pedal cars, hockey- and football games, ping pong table, play houses and doll corners. En fantastic play unit with material that most daycare nurses would give anything to get their hands on. You can play with water if you want and there is a great playground in the inner garden. In one room were drums, bass, guitar, synthesizers and a computer for those who feel like recording their own record. In another room, you can lie down and listen to music in white bean bags surrounded by light shows on the walls, lava lamps and other mood enhancers. And there is a library filled with children- and teen books, films an CDs. And staff, of course.
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I’ll bring the camera there next time, so you can see for yourself.
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I’m sold.
Abbes pappahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02859189935965919022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5125532006302121647.post-72782793205111239872007-10-31T12:47:00.000+01:002013-01-13T20:52:30.526+01:00Fresh air.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjgsYUvbGS95IBre5WBeTvCM3bbZK8XtqmKBepuslx170thTHZdbr06k_XSQya5f2c9eJ8dnX4kCQwXdnqSCbdqL7vzV4n-JWUti6GtfMbCzJLqRa0vUDE9qZ4nGBd2NDzox8eJ-4hIQGV/s1600-h/h%C3%B6stpromenad1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5127466951724351042" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjgsYUvbGS95IBre5WBeTvCM3bbZK8XtqmKBepuslx170thTHZdbr06k_XSQya5f2c9eJ8dnX4kCQwXdnqSCbdqL7vzV4n-JWUti6GtfMbCzJLqRa0vUDE9qZ4nGBd2NDzox8eJ-4hIQGV/s400/h%C3%B6stpromenad1.jpg" style="cursor: pointer;" /></a><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqdx8qRcNEgO8M8nfdQzoZVyQGfFh8f0iTNAg0P0dmYhPRDEIpQrmDsB4O4VgCY9bNzNescctJiNhTYIajU9DcLw3ht3Mhr_ClWNyAwv6wZsII2FESsjMKjiFAnl0mQfmzEk5pEUSxgXAG/s1600-h/h%C3%B6stpromenad2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5127466964609252946" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqdx8qRcNEgO8M8nfdQzoZVyQGfFh8f0iTNAg0P0dmYhPRDEIpQrmDsB4O4VgCY9bNzNescctJiNhTYIajU9DcLw3ht3Mhr_ClWNyAwv6wZsII2FESsjMKjiFAnl0mQfmzEk5pEUSxgXAG/s400/h%C3%B6stpromenad2.jpg" style="cursor: pointer;" /></a><br />
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Yesterday, we were allowed out for a while. Lovely. Abbe and myself went for an hour’s walk around the hospital area. The mother had to pick up big brother from kindergarten. Abbes pappahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02859189935965919022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5125532006302121647.post-51788384540890201342007-10-30T22:03:00.000+01:002013-01-13T20:52:25.423+01:00A minor blood bath.Abbe was having great fun with one of the nurses. They were standing on either side of the aquarium, making kisses on the glass. I took the opportunity to grab a cup of tea and a sandwich. Cosy.
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Suddenly, with no warning, Abbe started to bleed from his nose. And now weäre talking nose bleed big time. In just a minute or so, there was blood everywhere. ON the floor, serviettes, compresses, me and the nurses who had come to help out. Bloody weird.
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Another wave came in bed, as he was putting on his pyjamas top and the little compress which had been stuck up his nose – under protest – fell out. The same heavy flow again and this time, the doctor on duty was called upon. I was on my knees in the bed, with Abbe’s head on my lap, my hand on his nose and the bloody tissues. After quite some time, the bleeding stopped.
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By then both my legs and Abbe were asleep.
Abbes pappahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02859189935965919022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5125532006302121647.post-30402583153075216302007-10-30T14:20:00.000+01:002013-01-09T12:51:08.053+01:00How's it going?At the moment, I’m not quite sure how things are. Admittedly, the CRP is on its way down. That’s good. But the temperature is still there. 39,2° just now. At the same time, his discharge from hospital seems within reach. The pacemaker threads were removed this morning. They normally leave them there until the very last moment, just in case. Get rid of them, and you go home tomorrow, is the general view.
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We’ll see if it’s correct this time. It depends on the temperature. Why is it there?
Abbes pappahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02859189935965919022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5125532006302121647.post-56627675656702431342007-10-30T13:57:00.000+01:002013-01-09T12:50:58.965+01:00Ice cream - excellent medicine.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7ADtcVJzSSq1JCRJNtik6ikID5e2eBdMrb08Xx6caioty2zh867tKON-uFoGG6jCu55nDWwJfwyPHTNorhJYiNX7DTJbXo8OHcNATkNOgshiv_oxCCYRBsNbUVQXt_0Y9QHg18AvTDDtF/s1600-h/glass.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5127114102981115346" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7ADtcVJzSSq1JCRJNtik6ikID5e2eBdMrb08Xx6caioty2zh867tKON-uFoGG6jCu55nDWwJfwyPHTNorhJYiNX7DTJbXo8OHcNATkNOgshiv_oxCCYRBsNbUVQXt_0Y9QHg18AvTDDtF/s400/glass.jpg" style="cursor: pointer;" /></a><br />
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One of the very first sign language signs that Abbe learnt was ‘ice cream’. He loves ice cream. And since the staff here wants him to get plenty of fluids, he is allowed to eat his beloved ice cream as much and as often as he wants.
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Plus, that’s one of the few moments when a nurse can show up in the doorway without Abbe going "Ay-oo" (goodbye) as soon as he sees her or him. They’re not that popular, the nurses.
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Unless you are given ice cream, that is.
Abbes pappahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02859189935965919022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5125532006302121647.post-28341996950514007282007-10-29T23:20:00.000+01:002013-01-09T12:50:46.741+01:0039,7°CIt was looking so good. Abbe came through amazingly quickly after the operation. Incredible in so many ways. He cycles and runs around in the corridors, climbs chairs and even has a go on the slide, with a bit of encouragement. We’ll be out of here in a few days’ time, I thought.
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I’m not so sure anymore.
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Abbe has had a slightly raised temperature all the time, since his operation. That’s not unusual. Your immunisation system gets triggered as soon as someone messes around with your body. You take a daily C-reactive protein test, to detect any infections or inflammations in your body. The temperature has been a steady 38°C, but yesterday the CRP was on the rise, so a scan was carried out, to check for any fluid accumulation around the operation scar.
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There was some fluid. But nothing to worry about according to the cardiologist who did the scan. Today, we did a new scan which still showed some fluid but – slightly less. So far, so good.
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But now, this evening, the temperature rose quickly. Suddenly, the thermometer showed 39.7°C. Strange. The last thing I did tonight before returning home to take over from big brother’s babysitter, was to, together with my wife, hold on to a panicking, heavily perspirating Abbe, so that three nurses could find a vein for a blood sample. For the second time, just today.
Abbes pappahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02859189935965919022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5125532006302121647.post-27043671928849230292007-10-29T14:29:00.000+01:002013-01-09T12:50:39.919+01:00How hard can it be?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDI0hMknDgtaVqLeizYYIsYUWcA4y7jQ0F9HpDYsQ2ucNmtPV_4m12uZAdYj6r-iwUSY3YvhxedDvxjge276O6IqkfK2M7YaQrFA3KUKEqPTvmwmD_m42OUmxfQfV49Rf9sWI-A-J763as/s1600-h/k%C3%B6kslappar.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126740092934012322" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDI0hMknDgtaVqLeizYYIsYUWcA4y7jQ0F9HpDYsQ2ucNmtPV_4m12uZAdYj6r-iwUSY3YvhxedDvxjge276O6IqkfK2M7YaQrFA3KUKEqPTvmwmD_m42OUmxfQfV49Rf9sWI-A-J763as/s400/k%C3%B6kslappar.jpg" style="cursor: pointer;" /></a><br />
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You have to excuse me but now I have to moan a bit. Sound a bit like the angry old biddy who keeps putting up notes in the communal laundry room – all beginning with "for everyone’s comfort" and ending with "friend of good order". Well, you’ve seen them before. Maybe you’ve even put a note up yourself. In the laundry room, the communal kitchen in the student digs or the coffee corner at work. As for me, I don’t put up any notes. I sulk via the internet instead
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Look at the three photos here above. They are all from the little kitchenette where us family members can make ourselves a coffee or a bite to eat, in order to lighten up hospital life a bit. The first note was probably placed there by hospital staff. A few, very simple rules, presented in a pleasant way.
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I assume the second note has been put up by a parent. Someone who is fed up with things not working. A laundry room biddy.
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The third photo, well you can see for yourself.
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I have now been doing other people’s dishes, cleaned up the play corner after other people’s children and collected the ward’s own coffe mugs, with the Children’s Heart Foundation’s logo on them, from the ground floor cafeteria. I guess someone has brought coffee downstairs, when the cafeteria was closed for the weekend and then hasn’t bothered to bring it back again. A litre of milk which we bought for our coffees have miraculously disappeared after us having coffee, just twice. This, in spite of ‘Abbe’ written with a felt pen all over the milk package. And in spite of us having closed it with cellotape, just in case.
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I completely understand if someone is chocked and feel exhausted and find it hard to cope. That’s how you feel when you stay here. But the point is, we all feel like that. It’s the fact that people help each other that makes this place so very good.
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There, that’s my shouting done for today.
Abbes pappahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02859189935965919022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5125532006302121647.post-18937353902384873952007-10-29T12:15:00.000+01:002013-01-09T12:50:32.549+01:00A rainy day.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifg2uPEjlP57f-XciCZM3nErfIj4n6iAw4u28JHfCjNKUXDkpr1X44L4xq-rD-R-wuItkuPoq7NsqQmZfQtgFkMQkT7QcbCBrsDos6pOcI9WT2zbTTMWfPDoqWao6iv76yZnyd_ALUkJLO/s1600-h/sjykhuset.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126468633821035906" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifg2uPEjlP57f-XciCZM3nErfIj4n6iAw4u28JHfCjNKUXDkpr1X44L4xq-rD-R-wuItkuPoq7NsqQmZfQtgFkMQkT7QcbCBrsDos6pOcI9WT2zbTTMWfPDoqWao6iv76yZnyd_ALUkJLO/s400/sjykhuset.jpg" style="cursor: pointer;" /></a>Abbes pappahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02859189935965919022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5125532006302121647.post-36264260792801866742007-10-28T23:09:00.000+01:002013-01-09T12:50:27.408+01:00How do you treat fear of hospitals?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcpRmBJmNNjNrgFAeUt2_4mDhJzfqjJn0sEMW7waJOeeyXJui6G__UFyGI8qb-cz1ktFyqW_Vmr3g27rH2ZZtCOAw1njJhQd5Tdn5JVzlzO3v1jGmeZG0Todd-IKjoQuzpJ4sxfbSYeeja/s1600-h/doktorsv%C3%A4ska.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126508851894795666" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcpRmBJmNNjNrgFAeUt2_4mDhJzfqjJn0sEMW7waJOeeyXJui6G__UFyGI8qb-cz1ktFyqW_Vmr3g27rH2ZZtCOAw1njJhQd5Tdn5JVzlzO3v1jGmeZG0Todd-IKjoQuzpJ4sxfbSYeeja/s400/doktorsv%C3%A4ska.jpg" style="cursor: pointer;" /></a><br />
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We have a new problem to tackle. A new ailment. Let’s call it fear of hospitals. It might be because Abbe is of that age where his own will is being developed. The integrity, the self and all those other fancy words which can be sorted under the heading “I can do it myself”. The total integrity is born. It’s bound to play a role anyway.
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But, on top of that, Abbe has spent innumerable hours in a hospital. Many tough examinations, tests and restraints. I guess it’s just getting to him.
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This has now led to Abbe hardly allowing staff to enter our room. His lower lip shivers and he goes "aj aj aj oj oj aj" as soon as they turn up. Certain examinations are being scrapped, whereas when it comes to others, which must be done, Abbe has to be coaxed into doing them. However, you can’t fool Abbe any longer. He knows the tricks. The crucial medications will have to be taken using gentle force. We’re in a bad spiral.
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We’ll have to arrange some kind of therapy, I think. There’s so much more hospital to come for Abbe, he can’t have it this way, poor sod. I was talking a bit to the mother of the girl in the room next to Abbe’s. She had similar experiences, but tried to comfort me by saying “They grow out of it, don’t worry.” Her daughter was eight or nine today, I think.
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To make everything less dramatic, we sometimes do the examinations on ourselves, Abbe’s mum and myself. Or on his cuddly toys. Sometimes, Abbe can have a go himself at applying the finger clip oximeter on dad’s finger. Today, he was given a lovely doctor’s bag, courtesy of one of the nurses. You have to try.
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Now, Abbe is lying here next to me, snoozing, but it’s a restless sleep, full of dreams. Probably about nurses.
Abbes pappahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02859189935965919022noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5125532006302121647.post-73512895346420207822007-10-28T21:49:00.000+01:002013-01-06T22:16:13.157+01:00Nurses – a little genus check 2.It’s funny, isn’t it. After my post about never having come across any male nurses, part from at the intensive care unit, I have met four of them, here at 323. Two nurses and two child minders. Still, just four blokes out of the hundreds of meetings I’ve had with hospital staff, but anyway. It’s very good to see.
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Coincidence, or trend break?
Abbes pappahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02859189935965919022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5125532006302121647.post-13004670544386339432007-10-28T21:18:00.000+01:002013-01-06T22:15:39.046+01:00This social network thing.I’ve touched on this subject before, I know. But I can’t help bringing it up again. I’m so glad we live close to Gothenburg!
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I really feel for those who come from other places in Sweden, forced to bring their whole family here during the hospital time. Siblings who have to be away from school for weeks, maybe pets who need to be looked after. And on top of that, having to stay in a small hotel room with the entire family, unless you’re lucky enough to end up at Ronald McDonald’s, of course. Or just imagine being single, with several children?
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But whether you come from far afield or live down the road, I realise now how important the social network is. What on earth would we have done, had it not been for our grandparents, aunties, friends, neighbours and supportive daycare school staff? I honestly don’t know.
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Big brother gets picked up and driven to his daycare school and the hospital, gets taken care of and spoilt. And yesterday, as I returned home to take over from the babysitter of the day, there was a bag hanging on our door handle. It was from our neighbours and contained presents and drawings for Abbe and the best cardamom cake in the world, for the rest of us. In a heart-shaped baking tin.<br />
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Sometimes, I feel so fortunate.
Abbes pappahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02859189935965919022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5125532006302121647.post-6959093735015864282007-10-27T21:45:00.000+02:002013-01-06T22:15:33.929+01:00Pee and poo.Things which are on the check list before we can even begin to talk about going home. Our body is an advanced, complete system and everything must balance. Note, I’m not talking about complicated stuff like blod cells and electrolytes. No, I’m talking bog standard debit and credit at the loo.
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Everything you take in is noted. And everything you get out. How many millilitres of baby formula, juice or water is Abbe drinking? How much wee does he produce? By means of a catheter, everything runs into a measuring cylinder-looking plastic box, before being emptied into the bag. But what do you do when the catheter has been pulled out?
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Well, you weigh the nappies. An unused Libero Maxi nappy weighs 44 grams, so it’s just a case of subtracting that sum from the total weight and then you know how much wee is in the nappy. Clever. And if you have both number ones and twos in the nappy, you have to roughly gauge the weight of number two.
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Fluids tend to build up in children’s bodies after the operation so it’s important to make sure they “wee it off” properly. You help them on the way by giving them a diuretic medicine, after the operation. It looked a bit worrying for a while as they usually expects the weeing to start about 3-5 hours after removing the catheter. Abbe hadn’t produced anything for eight hours. But he’s caught up now. Wee wee.
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And now for the next battle. The morphine which is given to children to reduce the pain has a tendency to slow down the digestive system, which in its turn can cause indigestion.
Hey ho, the good with the bad and all that. It can be very tough and painful in that little Abbe stomach, and you have to rely on various tricks like heating pads, massage and – if it gets really bad – enemas, to manage it.
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So. Excitement in room five at the 323 ward right now: Will the poo come soon?
Abbes pappahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02859189935965919022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5125532006302121647.post-30168393296220952102007-10-27T13:34:00.000+02:002013-01-06T22:15:29.393+01:00New words.Abbe has developed his vocabulary this week. Unfortunately, these kind of words:<br />
– Ouch ouch ouch.<br />
– Oh oh oh.
Abbes pappahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02859189935965919022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5125532006302121647.post-45313732649204111012007-10-27T12:53:00.000+02:002013-01-06T22:15:20.803+01:00Sun showers, bugger off!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQEgwosmTJBv3i6cCu67fYgPudy5zr5XLoi649FkIwv-3gGO3ydgbLPKi5iXP09cypa9T8XCb0gxn6G-997EzHSoGT9ZLzMR-v_pipr9FwWbRGQKMAEIgNHWO_KR04Gh__jsXfZveadK15/s1600-h/brun.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5125990221708901730" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQEgwosmTJBv3i6cCu67fYgPudy5zr5XLoi649FkIwv-3gGO3ydgbLPKi5iXP09cypa9T8XCb0gxn6G-997EzHSoGT9ZLzMR-v_pipr9FwWbRGQKMAEIgNHWO_KR04Gh__jsXfZveadK15/s400/brun.jpg" style="cursor: pointer;" /></a>
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It’s a strange sight. Strange, but lovely. Abbe has really got a completely new skin tone. Looks a bit as if he’s just come back home after a sunny holiday. Sure, he has been a bit rosy before, too. But then, it was caused by high fever and part from the rosy cheeks, the rest of the face was greyish.
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This is different. His grey-blue skin has become golden brown, and the cheeks rosy. His blue lips are now pink. And for the nailbeds... they have always had a bluish tinge to them, but no more. Pink and nice looking, too.
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A beauty, in other words.
Abbes pappahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02859189935965919022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5125532006302121647.post-22790667837437054792007-10-26T23:15:00.000+02:002013-01-06T22:15:15.109+01:00My idol.Yesterday, Abbe was allowed to sit on our laps for the first time. Mum had the great honour of being first out, and when I saw the little hero in his mum’s safe arms I couldn’t keep the tears back. It was all just... too good.
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Today, after "cleaning up" and chest X-ray, we could move into a room of our own. That means phase three is completed. It’s so good to have your own place. Come and go as you please, close the door. The little newly operated children need that calm now and then.
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As Abbe is wireless now, I took the opportunity to put him in the buggy and walk around the ward a bit. It does him good to get out of the bed for a while. In the corridor, we came up to one of those activity boards, placed at a 2-year-old’s level, featuring various turning wheels. I stopped the wheelchair and Abbe played with the cogwheels and peg tops that he could reach. "Neee", he says suddenly.
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It suddenly struck me that it might not be a wise move, as it was only three days ago since he had his heart operation. Only just 24 hours since he came to. But then I remembered the nurse saying he could come up when he felt he was able to. So I help him down from the wheelchair and onto the floor. Still a bit unsteady from the Dormicum dose he received during the clean-up an hour ago, he stands there for a while and plays with the board. Then he walks away.
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I can hardly keep up. I simply wasn’t prepared for him standing up, even. As some kind of human safety net, I walk behind Abbe with my hands just a centimeter from his upper arms. He goes out to the play corner, makes coffee for mum, makes a sandwich and does the dishes in a little play kitchen. Suddenly, he knows what he wants to do. "Inna”, he says and only mum and myself understand, but that doesn’t matter. I know it means he wants to play with Play Doh.
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I help him into a high chair, bring out the dough, he starts playing and makes peas, sausages and cookies. It’s about here that I start to realise. With new tears of joy in my eyes. Abbe is the toughest person I have ever met.
Abbes pappahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02859189935965919022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5125532006302121647.post-62169456386056683542007-10-26T22:58:00.000+02:002013-01-06T22:15:09.392+01:00Cleaned upNow, all the tubes and wires are gone. At least the ones who made him bedridden. The CVC (central venous catheter) was taken off this morning around eleven. The wee catheter too. And all the ECG-electrodes. Plus, the big plaster on the chest has been removed.
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Hospital slang for the above makes me think of a Quentin Tarantino film. "Have you cleaned up Abbe?", I heard a nurse saying to another. "We’d better clean him up before taking him down for X-ray". Wonderful.
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Still remaining on Abbe right now:
A PVC (peripheral venous catheter, or a needle, as we usually call it) in the left hand and one in the left foot. They are used for taking samples, giving medicines and drips. If he doesn’t get enough liquids through his food during the day, they add what’s needed via a drip feed in the night.
He has four (or is it six?) pacemaker wires left, which will come out through the skin on Abbe’s chest. An unpleasant thought, I think, that they are actually stuck to his heart. They always put them in, in case the heart starts jumping a beat, beat twice or something else unexpected. They stay until you go home, basically.
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It’s only very occasionally that he has to be wired up to the pulse oximetry or blood pressure machine. Otherwise, he’s now wireless.
Abbes pappahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02859189935965919022noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5125532006302121647.post-40015464849759996392007-10-25T22:32:00.000+02:002013-01-06T22:15:04.675+01:00A little film from the Intensive Care Unit.<object height="350" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ToI-tAgQDsM"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ToI-tAgQDsM" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" height="350" width="425"></embed></object>Abbes pappahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02859189935965919022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5125532006302121647.post-47815118136146855012007-10-25T16:41:00.000+02:002013-01-06T22:14:59.107+01:00Abbe 3.0You get to recognize a lot. The same preparations, samples and tests. The same unbearable pain in the whole of your body when you hand him over for an operation. The lumps in your throat, the tears and the worry always remain the same. The procedures before and after the operation. The same.
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And as ever, the pulse oximetry sends out an alarm. That’s the instrument which mesures the oxygen saturation in the blood. The same alarm. But something is significantly different. When Abbe’s oxygen saturation goes from the usual 94-97% which is where it usually fluctuates, it sends out an alarm. When it goes below the trigger limit of 90%.
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So far in his life, Abbe has never passed that limit. Never ever.
Abbes pappahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02859189935965919022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5125532006302121647.post-60331191347825220112007-10-25T12:40:00.000+02:002013-01-06T22:14:48.901+01:00Phase two, check!"You have to eat the elephant in small portions" as my colleague usually says, when something big and challenging is about to happen. Now, we have just chewed the trunk and one of the ears. Phase one and two are completed.
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The first and the biggest step – the operation – has been completed. And at 11 am we checked out from the P-ICU hotel and took the lift down to ward 323. Great! Not that I dislike the Intensive Care Unit, far from it. They are totally fantastic. But this means that everything is stable for Abbe and that another little child now requires their special knowledge more urgently.
Abbes pappahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02859189935965919022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5125532006302121647.post-59118686517985010952007-10-25T10:05:00.000+02:002013-01-06T22:14:44.517+01:00At 09.38 – the removal of more tubes.Now the last drain tube from his chest has been removed. That’s good news, as it means the bleeding around the operation area will be reduced.
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Also, they took away the artery needle. That’s what I guess you could call the outlet. From it, you can get blood and take tests. Its counterpart on the input side is called a CVC – central vein catheter. That’s what sits at Abbe’s neck and goes right into a vana cava, which is a larger and more central vein, close to the heart. It’s used to give him various medicines and given its location, it has an immediate effect. But the CVC remains where it is. It’s the artery needle that’s been removed.
Abbes pappahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02859189935965919022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5125532006302121647.post-67224598146472614432007-10-25T08:40:00.000+02:002013-01-06T22:14:39.427+01:00Good morning, Queen Silvia.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggLP38C6GkxgvlzoPveEcc8vaIQo8gQhmpu-iSoKGltkubBIbaFFM4Srt-4SQETVT164i7pADTHodAsoYkJfyif7Lww9JeOq3sM2CGRAEchgIWiBlItBhsMkHKvTEZdrQKLcuoo5-WNoiz/s1600-h/barnsjukhuset.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5125192770836086098" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggLP38C6GkxgvlzoPveEcc8vaIQo8gQhmpu-iSoKGltkubBIbaFFM4Srt-4SQETVT164i7pADTHodAsoYkJfyif7Lww9JeOq3sM2CGRAEchgIWiBlItBhsMkHKvTEZdrQKLcuoo5-WNoiz/s400/barnsjukhuset.jpg" style="cursor: pointer;" /></a><br />
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The Children’s hospital, in the morning sunshine. Inside the window furthest to the left in the upper (but one) row, Abbe is asleep. The sunbeams have not quite yet reached his bed. But they will. Soon. Abbes pappahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02859189935965919022noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5125532006302121647.post-28275694591474564262007-10-24T21:17:00.000+02:002013-01-06T22:14:28.513+01:00A tired little lad.Abbe is still asleep. He has been asleep for more than 37 hours now, if you don’t count the short awakenings during the day. He has opened one, sometimes two eyes, whimpered with a little sorry, hoarse voice, tried to remove a tube or wire, and then gone back to sleep.
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Occasionally, he has tried to turn around, change position or even sit up. Mum, dad and the intensive care nurses have been busy calming Abbe down, so he goes back to sleep and also sorting out what can only be described as a makramé of catheters, drains, pacemaker wires and other things which Abbe is connected to.
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Hopefully, he will sleep until early tomorrow morning. He might just as well stay asleep now, in the beginning of all this – it would only be tough for him to be awake.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3mwOJvD8xes7vZq35NX25aC7Fr-mikk4KQmJX1kV0mPMTwhsa2AVQZOU-sXHKDr5O5ASU0I2x-hDic4K9BpHTdMhH3Mv_FRJfleW4sis5PJHebBbJ7PeXvrxl_D2Fl5LRecGyOQ4f5JBa/s1600-h/tr%C3%B6tt_makrame.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5124992434043848642" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3mwOJvD8xes7vZq35NX25aC7Fr-mikk4KQmJX1kV0mPMTwhsa2AVQZOU-sXHKDr5O5ASU0I2x-hDic4K9BpHTdMhH3Mv_FRJfleW4sis5PJHebBbJ7PeXvrxl_D2Fl5LRecGyOQ4f5JBa/s400/tr%C3%B6tt_makrame.jpg" style="cursor: pointer;" /></a>Abbes pappahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02859189935965919022noreply@blogger.com0