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My niece is not doing well. She's still not eating much, and she's actually lost weight since she went into hospital. In the last twenty-four hours I believe she's had the grand total of one bowl of breakfast cereal. It's been roughly ten days since she was admitted and the nurses in the regional hospital where she's currently located are very concerned - concerned for her fluid intake and consequently her kidney function, concerned for her psychiatric health, and concerned for their other patients, who are receiving less attention because this child requires so much.
For all of those reasons and probably more, they're going to move her to either Sydney or Newcastle, where-ever the first appropriate bed becomes available. By 'appropriate bed', I mean one where they can tube feed a nine year old while her arms are strapped to the bed to prevent her from pulling the tubes out.
I know it's the best thing for her. I know it's what it'll take to get her better. But I think about her restrained in a hospital bed, unable to move around, and my heart breaks for the little brown eyed baby she used to be, the one I used to cradle in my arms.
For all of those reasons and probably more, they're going to move her to either Sydney or Newcastle, where-ever the first appropriate bed becomes available. By 'appropriate bed', I mean one where they can tube feed a nine year old while her arms are strapped to the bed to prevent her from pulling the tubes out.
I know it's the best thing for her. I know it's what it'll take to get her better. But I think about her restrained in a hospital bed, unable to move around, and my heart breaks for the little brown eyed baby she used to be, the one I used to cradle in my arms.
