Wednesday, 19 August 2009

Flashbacks

Out today, and a child (not mine) was burnt. Scalded with hot coffee. Instinct takes over; clear a path to the nearest cold water and toss her in it. She'll be fine - shock more than damage I think. New (dry) clothes and an icecream did much to repair the damage. Pink knees which will no doubt be a little tender, but looking no worse than sunburn. A complete accident.

She'll be fine.

Me? I'm back at the end of the phone, hearing that there's been an accident. I'm back in A&E, being told that I can't see Goldie as I'm not next of kin. I'm watching a doctor assess her, looking in disbelief at the sheer vastness of her injuries. I'm with her in an ambulance, driving miles over bumpy roads to the nearest burns unit.

I'm trying to split myself in two, needing to be here at home and simultaneously 120 miles away. I'm trying to contact family on holiday overseas, I'm trying to give staff lessons in how a very profoundly disabled individual might demonstrate pain.

I'm watching my daughter inpain more than anyone should have to endure, and without the understanding as to what has happened to her. And I'm standing by her bedside watching her die.

And I'm looking at the damage done by boiling coffee, and comparing it to the damage done by a cooler, but still too hot bath.

I'll spare the details.

But looping, round and round, still images from the week. And I want to fit thermostats to every tap, ban kettles and hot drinks andbaths and open fires and boilers and going outside in sunlight, and ovens, and anything else which might cause anyone to suffer as she did, anything which might put any other parent where I was, watching the damage. And it isn't going to happen; I need my coffee as much as the next woman; I like my baths as much as anyone else, and turning nocturnal isn't terribly practical with small children.

So, deep breaths; move on. Children to feed and entertain and medicate and care for, a house that won't clean itself (I have offered to pay it but it won't listen), distractions everywhere if I can but pull my head out of this loop.

It's there still though in the silent spaces.

Tia

8 comments:

Sandra Fisher said...

Just sending my love Tia.

Sandra xx

Trina and Jophie said...

Big Hugs from across the Pond. Jophies area all wet and squishy but thinking you won't mind :0)

Love you guys,
Trina and Jophie

MOM2_4 said...

Hugs & Prayers! I memories are real and may always be lurking, waiting for an opportunity to jump out and take us rushing back to the moment. This is normal, painful but normal. Praying you will have more than enough wonderful memories to keep those bad ones at bay. Praying you will have peace and healing even when the lurkers pop out and try to take over.

Lots of hugs coming your way, with a few wet licks from Joshy.
Laura

Doorless said...

Wish I could be there to help. It sure catches us by surprise when those horrible memories come rushing back. I still get them from Amber. I imagine part of the reason for you was the circumstances and not being able to fully share your feelings for so long after the incident. It was like you were all alone in your suffering and we were not able to fully comfort you.
Goldie was such a vibrant spirit and I have many fond memories of her that you shared with us. Her wonderful quirky sense of humor and that lovely golden red curly wild hair.
I keep my blog for much the same reasons you do so things won't be forgotten or can be worked out in print.
Hugs and lots of prayers for comfort.

Anonymous said...

I'm thinking of you and praying for you and your family.

regards,

RJK

Elinor said...

Hang in there, Tia. It will pass...

sarah bess said...

I've been there, Tia, although my daughter survived. scald from a mistake made by a caregiver. i know the trauma and also the paranoia about hot things that lasts and lasts and which no one else seems to share. i don't let my kids light sparklers on the fourth of july and i panic around campfires. i warn people about their coffees and push back other people's hot pans. just takes a second to cause so much agony, so much fear, so much grief. so terribly sorry.

val said...

Hugs - must have been horrible to be mentally taken back there again. We were asked if we wanted a thermostat put on Matthew's new bath - when it and the room to put it in ever materialise that is - I don't need to tell you what my very speedy answer was.....

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