Crikey Child! What is wrong with your face?! – An Allergic Reaction

So this weekend both Mr Pud and I had to work so Pudding and Pie were left in the care of the grandparents. Now I don’t know who was most excited about this! Suffice to say the grandparents had lots planned and the kids looked like they were plotting a pretty amazing rampage of their own.


Off we went then 7am Sunday morning feeling more than a little miffed to be missing out on the fun. They all had a great day – and some lovely food at a local bistro. Mr Pud noticed when he rang at tea time that Pud had a red face. We put it down to teething and thought no more about it.
When we got back the kids were in bed. My mother in law mentioned that Pudding’s face was very red but that she was happy. I had a quick look at her in the cot but was initially unconcerned. After waving off the grandparents and assuring them all was fine we ordered a pizza ready to settle on the couch together. Mr Pud was a bit concerned about Pud so we decided to get her up and just check her for a rash anywhere else. We are meningitis neurotics any sight of a rash and I am getting glass out!
Well we woke her. She was chuffed to see us. I can only say I didn’t share her joy! My poor child looked like she had gone 5 rounds with Tyson!! Her face was bright red and her eyes were so swollen she could barely open her eyelids. Despite looking like something out of a horror movie she still smiled…

Even as nurses we were pretty shocked at how bad she looked. It was clear that she was having an allergic reaction to something. We got some input from one of our doctor friends and called the 111 NHS service. We were advised to take her into A&E. Inwardly I groaned, having already been at the hospital 13 hours this was the last thing I wanted to do. But dutifully I packed a bag and picked up my puffy Pud, I crossed the threshold as the pizza arrived!

A&E was manic as I knew it would be. Poor Pud had no idea what was going on. But despite being dragged out in the middle of the night she took it really well. She was smiling and waving at people. This was met with a mixture of horror and compassion. Poor little girl did look awful! Finally after a few hours we were seen, a quick dose of Piriton and we headed home. Tired but no worse for our little adventure.

This morning Pudding looks ok, apart from being angry about lack of sleep. A bit red-cheeked still but most of the swelling has gone down. It was scary was even with our backgrounds, we didn’t know if she would get any worse or what was causing her to have an allergic reaction. The cupboard is now stocked with Piriton and I am trying not to monitor every thing she eats or touches.

Ant one else experienced anything similar? How do you deal with allergic reactions?

The Other Side of the Operating Table

Tomorrow Pie will be having his operation to have his tonsils and adenoids removed. He is also having grommets inserted. I know that this is the right thing for him as he is deaf as a post. He also snores like a beast!

I am nervous, more nervous than I thought I would be. Mr Pud is doing the hospital bit. Not out of choice but someone has to stay with Pudding. She totally plays Mr Pud so she has to stay with me. Meanwhile I am sending my gorgeous boy off to the surgeons. I have been the nurse in these situations many times. But this is different. This is my child.

Operating Table

I know how the whole thing works.  How they will arrive and be greeted by a lovely nurse. Pie will meet his surgeon and have everything explained. Daddy will dress him in his hospital gown and together they will go down to the operating theatre.

I want to be there. I can’t. This is the joy of having two children and family to far away to help. I am his mother and he needs me.

So many times I have comforted parents. Steered them from the ward. Promised to call as soon as their baby is in recovery. Offered empty words or cups of tea. Held their hands. Given out hugs and tissues. Usually in circumstances much more serious than a tonsillectomy.

This time I am on the other side of the operating table. I don’t like it. It’s my baby, my boy who is at the mercy of someone else. I have no control over what happens. All the risks run through my head and crash over me like the tide. My rational brain is fighting with my emotional neurosis.

The boys are staying over night in the hospital. In a way this is good. Really all I want to do is scoop Pie up and tuck him in his own bed. I want to hold his hand and stroke his hair while he sleeps. Rock him in my arms like I haven’t done since he was a baby. Tell him Mummy loves him. Apologise that I couldn’t be there.

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Being the other side of the operating table is hard. Harder than I ever imagined. My heart goes out to all the other parents whose children go through this. You are so brave. Braver than me. I can’t imagine what I would do if this was life saving heart surgery. Or one of several operations. I have been lucky to have a strong, healthy boy. I am sure he will bounce back like the trooper he is. But tonight? Tonight I will squeeze him a little tighter. Keep him up a little longer and read just one more story…