One little girl definitely the loudest on HDU, now up on the ward where we have a nice little room to ourselves. Sadly not soundproof; the rest of the ward knows we are here. Happily there are only another six patients.
Sat up for 20 minutes at lunchtime, and managed to drive her own chair here (weepily) this afternoon. Impressed with the very big flat screen television on her bedroom wall; less impressed that people keep coming and poking and prodding at her. And noticing when we change which toe her probe is on which is impressive given her total lack of sensation in her feet.
Everything hurts nothing is right it is all my fault and she doesn't want me, but doesn't want me out of her sight either. This is I'm told a good sign; she is doing better than expected and better than most children one day post op. This we like.
We don't like the very limited pain relief options due to her other problems. We don't like the beep on the "press a button for morphine every 15 minutes" machine. We don't like having neuro obs and bright shiny lights and chest leads and thermometres and lots of lines and tubies.
We do like the iPad, although Mummy in unimpressed with her inability to sort out the wifi, having just handed lots of cash over to access it. We do like visitors as long as they don't touch. We do like one hand holding. But we don't like physios, and Mummy is struggling to understand the logic of having a complicated history taken in great detail and painstakingly entered into the computer on one ward, only to have to repeat the same info on moving wards because the computer systems are incompatible. And frustrated with the non-portability of drugs charts, and silly rules which state that if lactulose was written up at 2pm it must therefore be given at 2am, rather than morning and night.
But these are little things. She's well enough to be well hacked off. And this is good.