Sometimes I feel like I’m not, not coping, but neither am I coping. Reading that sentence back, I’m thinking this is a sign of some pretty fucking muddled thinking! It’s certainly pretty hard not to get angry that he has to go through so much. On admission today I went through his list of medicines with a doctor, a nurse and then a pharmacist (we always have to do this, I’m never quite sure why so many times). The pharmacist placed her hand on my arm as I listed them off; so many drugs (and that’s without the IVs) why aren’t they keeping him well??? It’s been just three weeks since his last IVs. He needs a break.
We went to clinic this morning for lung function tests, but as there was no doctor available there, we then had to be admitted via A&E, where we stood in a queue for 45 minutes with a guy in serious chest pain, a drunk woman who vomited on the floor, and a woman with a teeny tiny cut on the top of her head. Thank god for triage. In the end, it was all pointless anyway as the doctor never even came, they just phoned down to A&E to say Isaac was to be admitted as his lung function had fallen significantly and he so obviously needed treatment. NHS I love you, but the crazy bureaucracy less so.
Please send well wishes x
