Squeak Piggy Squeak?

Hayley doesn't get ill much. And when she does she tends to battle on through it. So on Monday morning when she said she felt ill I was sympathetic but not very concerned.

By Monday evening she felt worse.

By Tuesday morning it was clear she had full-on flu and could not have her childminding kids. We quickly arranged cover and I took Oliver to and from nursery, leaving work very early to do so. (My planned 10-hour day was reduced to 5.)

Last night she complained of a worsening headache and went to bed at 8pm. I retired to the spare room so as not to disturb her if I got up to the kids and to lessen the chance of infection spreading.

Late in the evening Lucy woke crying and I found she had a temperature of 101. Cue Calpol.

By morning Lucy was back to normal, but Hayley appeared saying she felt worse still. An even more complex arrangement of support from friends/childminders was arranged to have the kids (ours and minded) through the day and as I left for work having dropped them off, Hayley was talking about getting a swab taken to confirm whether she has Swine Flu.

By the time I got to work I had been up for three and a half hours and with all the rushing round felt like I'd done half a day's work already!

It's now lunchtime and Hayley is still waiting for a call back from the doctor to help decide whether to get the Tamiflu. She sounded very rough on the phone.

And there you have it. Our house is in chaos.

The only upsides I can find to all this are that it makes me appreciate what a great job Hayley does during the week with all the kids and that it has actually given me a little bit more quality time with the kids who have handled it all incredibly well and without complaint.

Anyway, regardless of what strain of flu she has, I doubt Hayley will be leaping from her sickbed before the weekend. I am now crossing my fingers that the kids don't get it.

BBC NEWS | Health | Clean living way to beat cancer

BBC NEWS | Health | Clean living way to beat cancer

BBC NEWS | Politics | Cameron's 'beautiful boy' dies

BBC NEWS | Politics | Cameron's 'beautiful boy' dies

A couple of weeks ago I was driving in the car ith "Oliver's CD" playing. When Beautiful Boy came on I told him this was my song about him because he's my beautiful boy. A few days later when it came on again he told Hayley "This is my song isn't it Mummy".

I guess every son is his father's beautiful boy. And for that reason I was heartbroken for David Cameron when I heard his news. It doesn't matter that he is unlikely to ever get my vote. Politics shrinks into insignificance alongside the universal human experiences of birth, life and death. And the death of a child is perhaps the hardest to bear of all.

I know that Ivan changed his father. The slicked-back hair and arrogance of the public schoolboy faded in recent years to make him the successful politician he is today. And that is apprently in no small part down to time spent with his son in hospital, reading books to children from less fortunate backgrounds and seeing the public sector first-hand.

But today politics is almost irrelevant. Today he has to deal with a grief I hope I never have to know. He has my deepest sympathy.

BBC NEWS | Entertainment | Jade Goody says cancer has spread

BBC NEWS | Entertainment | Jade Goody says cancer has spread

Lying in bed last night, awake at about 4am, I found myself (for no apparent reason) praying that I live to see my children grown up and happy. I have no reason to think I am about to depart this earth. I was just reflecting on how I have a lot to live for, how much I love my children and that I couldn't bear to have to leave them behind.

So my heart goes out to Jade as she faces the thing I fear the most.

Chicken Pox medication

Please note that I have no medical expertise and the following post is my personal recollection of advice received from pharmacists. It is for my own reference and is not an offering of advice to others.


Both kids have been having a Aqueous Calamine cream applied regularly to ease the itching. The aqueous form apparently also reduces scarring.

They have both been having Calpol for the general discomfort.

Oliver has been having Piriton, but one of the pharmacists said it was no longer recommended for children under two years old. The box said it was OK and another pharmacist said they knew of no such advice. Consequently we gave it to her only once at the height of her discomfort.

Finally Oliver has had another cream, Eurax, which was given to us by friends whose little girl has just had chicken pox.

Half man, half chicken pox

Oliver after one of his many coverings in calamine lotion.

Oliver is suffering badly with his chicken pox. He is covered in itchy spots, particularly in regions which spend the most time covered by clothes or (at night) a nappy, if you get my drift.

Bless him he was quite distressed tonight when I applied calamine lotion after his (not too hot) bath. "It hurts Daddy" he kept saying. He even has a spot on his lip and mouth ulcers to boot. Last night he slept badly and as if that weren't enough he somehow ended up wetting the bed so he needed a complete change of his pyjamas and his bedding at 2.15am.

Tonight he's had Piriton and Calpol before bed, he's wearing cotton pyjamas and has just a cotton sheet and blanket for now. He always gets hot to start with. I'll add a blanket or quilt later. I also offered Bonjela but he said his mouth was OK. He was quite cheery reading his bedtime stories and went straight to sleep.

Meanwhile Lucy doesn't have half as many spots and is relatively untroubled by it all. She can be seen scratching at her chest every now and then but is largely herself. She too has spots in under her nappy but not half as many, nor apparently are they as bothersome as Oliver's.

Already, less than an hour after going to bed, Oliver has woken once and Hayley has re-applied some lotion to where he is scratching. I think it could be a bad night again so I'll sign off.

It's hard to watch them suffer, but at least I know there is an end in sight. It does serve to remind me that there are others who can't say the same. My heart goes out to them.


Oliver inspects the chicken pox spot on the underside of his big toe.

And a pox on your house sir!

Chicken pox to be precise. Both kids have got it. Lucy's spots appeared about a day ahead of Oliver's but the little man seems more bothered by it and his spots are more prolific. They are both bearing up fairly well though. Oliver has been napping more. Lucy has just been, well, Lucy, but with some added scratching.

Watching them scratch has set me off itching and scratching too, illogical though that may be. I think maximum itchiness will be reached sometime tonight or tomorrow. Perhaps we'll all scratch in the New Year together.

Jim-jams, jabs and jibbering wrecks

What a week. Its been right up there with those early sleepless nights with Oliver as we struggled to get him to breast-feed.

First Hayley was ill so I had to take time off work to look after the kids. Then before she fully recovered I became ill. While Hayley was still rough and just before I took entirely to my bed for three days, Oliver became ill. Yesterday, as Oliver seemed to be better and both parents were struggling to avoid getting any worse again, Lucy decided it was her turn to catch it.

After a trip to the doctors this morning I have a prescription for anti-biotics in case my temperature goes up again. It's been up between 101 and 102 every day until today and some nights I have had to change my clothes more than once because I've been so drenched in sweat. I've also been granted a discretionary flu jab once I'm over this.

Hayley is still not 100%, but ironically her minded child had a temperature this morning and went home at lunchtime. The child's Mum was suffering too, to the point of vomiting which is also one of the symptoms of this lovely strain we're all battling.

Barring a further relapse I'll be back at work tomorrow. I know things are, well, shall we say "a bit hectic" there at the moment, but it's sure going to be a relief to be back to boring old "normality".

Battling

It's been a tough few weeks and I think it finally took its toll on Hayley this weekend when she uncharacteristically was laid flat by a flu bug, rarely leaving her bed during the whole weekend. Even today she didn't appear until the afternoon. It's the most ill I've known her to be since Oliver was born.

To add to the workload Lucy has been inexplicably monstrous in her behaviour at times today. I think it might be down to the nappy rash she's currently suffering, caused in turn by diarrhea. Even so at times she veered between happy and demonic, screaming the place down apparently over some trifle, such as being told she couldn't go into the cupboard. She even had to be offered 3 different meals this evening before her screaming abated and she ate something. Not like her at all as she normally devours all that is laid before her. She turned down pizza, then spag' bol' (her favourite!), garlic bread (another favourite), before finally accepting a Quorn sausage and some Uncle Ben's rice.

Fortunately Oliver has been a little star, even when he developed a temperature himself this afternoon. He just lay down on the sofa and went to sleep. He offered lots of affection to Lucy and when she calmed down he would say "Are you alright now Lucy" in such a concerned and caring tone. He melts my heart.

If the little lady isn't herself tomorrow I think we'll take her to the doctor. I know she can be a bit of a diva, but today has taken things to a new level, not like her at all.

Hayley's temperature has come down this evening so hopefully we are turning a corner. But as she is said by the doc to be very contagious, I'm off to bed now to build up my immune system after several nights of broken sleep and early starts.

Saying good-bye

It is hard to find adequate words to describe today or my feelings about it, so I will try to keep this simple.

I was immensely proud of Hayley today. At times she was understandably inconsolable with grief but at other times she was astonishingly strong. She even found the emotional and physical strength to carry her Dad into the church along with her younger sister, three of her brothers and her nephew.

The vicar spoke at some length about Des's life, his character and of how we should remember him. He spoke warmly and evoked happy memories as well as helping the bereaved deal with the more difficult side to the aftermath of his death. I thought it was a wonderful and deserved tribute.

The last few days have been difficult for many of those left behind, made more difficult by family tensions and even by Des's last written will which was somewhat baffling to most of us and the publication of which could have been handled better by those with that responsibility. But Hayley has drawn strength from the knowledge that she and her Dad shared a special bond in life and that we still feel his presence even after death.

We have also all been helped by the kind support of friends and family for which we are very grateful.

Now is the time to move on, but slowly and often looking back. The funeral may have been goodbye, but though Des is gone he is not, and never will be, forgotten.

Desmond James Rodgers (1933 - 2008)

Grampy Des with Oliver and Lucy, September 2007

It is with the greatest sadness that I have to write that after a short illness Hayley's Dad died on Tuesday.

About three weeks ago he was admitted to hospital with relatively little concern. However tests revealed that he had advanced lung cancer with secondary tumors.

For the last few weeks we have spent much of our time down in Wiltshire so that Hayley could visit her Dad as often as possible. Some relatives were kind enough to let us have their house as long as we need it.

On the Wednesday before he passed away, Des, his partner Nancy, Hayley and myself took part in a service at the hospital chapel which was attended by about a dozen other close family members. In the service the vicar blessed and gave thanks for the relationship of Des and Nancy. She then blessed our upcoming marriage and blessed Hayley's engagement ring and a ring I chose for the occasion. Finally she performed what would normally be the first part of the wedding ceremony which is to ask who gives Hayley away to me. When she asked, Hayley's Dad said loud and clear "her father does". He then passed Hayley's hand to mine.

It was an emotional occasion, a mixture of immense sadness but also happiness and gratitude that we were able to fulfill our dear wish that Des should give Hayley away.

In the final days Des just wanted to come home from hospital, but sadly he died the day before he was due to be moved. He died around breakfast time just as Hayley was dropping off the kids to go and see him. Agonising though it was for her that no-one was there with him, he did not suffer and it seems he died peacefully.

Hayley was always close to her Dad, the apple of his eye. At Lucy's Christening my Mum told Des how glad she was that I had found someone who made me so happy and who was a wonderful mother to her grandchildren. He simply said "She's the best." I couldn't agree with him more. Des was a friendly, jovial and kind man who has passed all these qualities on to Hayley. He can never be replaced, but I will do my best to love and cherish his daughter who he has passed into my care.

Talking to children about death

This post was written on the indicated publication date, but was not actually published until after Hayley's Dad had passed away.

I haven't posted anything yet about the fact that Hayley's Dad is seriously ill and that sadly his illness is terminal. I did intend to post something last week when Hayley first visited him, at which point he was still undergoing tests. But I have now decided that I will not post anything for some time, perhaps even until after he has passed. But it is such an integral part of our life and of the experience of being a family that I feel it would be strange, even bizarre, to make no mention of it.

I have been looking for guidance about how to talk to Oliver about his Grampy's illness and prospective death. A particularly full, insightful and helpful article is provided by Hospice Net.

All we've told him so far is that Grampy is poorly and that Mummy went to see him to make him feel better. We also explained when Hayley was tearful that Mummy was sad because Grampy is poorly.

Explaining to a 3 year-old is a balancing act between ensuring you are honest to maintain their trust and not burdening or confusing them with complicated explanations.

Tough times

This post was written on the indicated publication date, but was not actually published until Hayley's Dad had passed away.

Some of our nearest and dearest are going through tough times at the moment.

Hayley spent several days in Wiltshire last week because her Dad is in hospital. The diagnosis is still not certain despite him being in there for over a week. Cushing's syndrome seems to be the current conclusion.

It is a difficult and worrying time. Her Dad's moods and demeanour have been altered by the imbalance in his body, which is distressing for those around him as well as himself.

While Hayley and Lucy were in Wiltshire, Oliver and I stayed up here. He was fairly content but was glad to talk to her on the phone. On Saturday night when I told him she was coming home and would be here when he woke up he said "I hope so".

On my side of the family my Mum's partner was in hospital last week after a nasty turn that was worryingly similar to his first heart-attack a couple of months ago. He's out again now.

Meanwhile my sister has slipped a disc, meaning my Mum is trying to help more with her 10 month old baby, despite having a few ailments of her own to contend with.

I have to say all these things have come as a bit of a shock. No-one I've mentioned was living unhealthily and they all seemed in pretty good shape until these latest turns. All we can do is try to support each other and count our blessings.

Charity CD

In my post three days ago, I mentioned how difficult I find it to contemplate either of the kids being seriously ill. Today I received this email from my company social club.

Rex Stinson is a singer/songwriter from Bury. His 4 year old daughter Ruby is terminally ill and has been spending time at Derian House Children's Hospice. It is difficult for us to imagine what Rex and his family are going through at the moment. Using his considerable musical talents, Rex has released an album called 'Precious Child' to raise funds for the hospice. The album contains 12 tracks, including 9 original compositions with a broad range of subject matter including Rex's experiences at the hospice.

As a songwriter my experience has always been that it is only with some degree of emotional distance that I can translate my feelings into music. So I have nothing but admiration for Rex, that he not only copes with what he is going through but also raises money through his music at such a difficult time.

I'll be buying a copy from work tomorrow but if you are interested, check out Rex's myspace page where you can listen to tracks and order the CD.

Through a fog

Oliver slept better after the inhaler and medicine, though he still shouted from his semi-slumbers without ever waking up fully. I feel like I spent the entire night listening for him. When I woke I was still "on alert". But now I'm just tired, as if a goldfish bowl is round my head.

Hayley reports that this morning he has not been entirely himself, a bit emotional, but he seems OK and not struggling like yesterday.

We are doubting the high dosage of salbutamol recommended by the doctor though: up to 8 puffs at a time. We are going to see our own GP about it and in the meantime stay down at 2 at a time (4 at bedtime) and monitor him, giving more if needed. This comes on the back of comments from the pharmacist who was concerned at administering such large "uncontrolled" doses.

Restless night

It's 12.30am and the little man has already woken several times. Just given him 2 puffs on inhaler and cough medicine. Fingers crossed it will do the trick.

Even Spiderman can fall ill

Ever since having his face painted as Spiderman a few weeks ago, Oliver has shown an interest in the webbed super-hero. So when my friend Dave at work told me he had bought seven episodes of "Spiderman and His Amazing Friends" on DVD, I jumped at the chance of an "evaluation copy". Well, despite it being for an age-range somewhat higher than Oliver's, he has been rather entranced by it and asked for it in preference to any other TV this weekend.

In fact, we even bought him a Spiderman outfit on Saturday. We then went to Room 311 for lunch where he entered the disabled toilet and baby-changing room as Oliver and re-appeared as Spiderman, complete with full-head mask.



He not only charmed all the women on the next table and several other customers but brought a smile to the faces of several people as he walked home in full costume.

But last night our super-hero complained of feeling poorly when he went to bed. He seemed happy enough as he went down, but he woke after a few hours with a persistently bad cough. He kept waking despite trying to go back to sleep. We got him up and gave him some medicine. He complained of pain in what looked to be his stomach but in hindsight was probably tightness in his chest. He wasn't wheezing though and at the time, having seen him insist on disobeying Daddy by drinking his own weight in bath water, I wondered whether he had a dodgy tummy.

Today he woke cheery but still coughing. Hayley took him out while I got a lie-in, after which I cleared the spare room and packed away Lucy's moses basket to the attic (finally!). When Hayley returned from an afternoon in the park she said Oliver had been coughing and wheezing.

So at 5'ish this evening she took him to the out-of-hours doctor, who said he might be asthmatic and prescribed a salbutamol inhaler, which Oliver already has. So tonight the little guy had to take 4 puffs of his inhaler for the first time in perhaps 18 months. He doesn't like it but he was brave and did it with no complaint other than on the first puff. He did seem more keen after the promise of star stickers and (consequently) chocolate.

I have to say that I count my blessings that the kids have no major illnesses and have only occasionally been hospitalised. I am a complete coward at the thought of either of them suffering anything major and when faced with news stories of other parents with suffering children I am filled with a mixture of empathy, dread and selfish relief, knowing that "there bit for the grace of God...".

I know lots of kids have asthma, but I also know it can be very serious. Of course it's not even sure that he is asthmatic and I suspect he's just as likely to simply be vulnerable to these chest infections. I'm not asthmatic, but I clearly remember a childhood punctuated by standing with a towel over my head and my face inches from hot water breathing in steam.

But Hayley is asthmatic and apparently it runs on families, so the jury is still out.

Whatever the final diagnosis, I suspect I will never stop feeling like a part of me is ill too when he coughs in the night or has a temperature in the day. I just hope I can always be there for him and help him through. Oh, and be half as brave as my little superhero.

New Zealand's out then

As we enter a wet British autumn after a wet British summer, my mind sometimes starts to turn to sunnier climes and dreams of raising our children away from headlines of stabbings and a life of scraping money together to pay for a mammoth mortgage on a modest home. I'm sure we won't do it, but some days it seems irresistible.

I didn't help when a former colleague now living in Australia recently sent me photos of himself surfing in the Australian winter. (That's winter, not summer.) We also have friends in New Zealand who send pictures of the expanse of green in which their children play. Compares favourably to the postage stamp we have in our back garden.

But perhaps it isn't meant to be. Yesterday I was given a sign! While I was at work contemplating the fabulous mountain biking in New Zealand over my lunch, Hayley was at home giving Oliver some kiwi only to find he came out in an allergic reaction. He complained of his mouth hurting and then his face started to swell up. She had to give him piriton but even by the time I came home in the evening his left eye was partially closed, though he was happy enough by then. We can't be 100% sure it was the kiwi but it seems to have been the culprit.

So maybe New Zealand just isn't meant to be.

Weekend highlights

It's FA cup quarter-final weekend. It used to be FA Cup quarter-final Saturday, but with the power of TV (read as money) the games are now played one by one throughout the weekend. We gathered round the TV to watch Man United dispatch Portsmouth, only to see (to our dismay) the first Cup upset of the weekend. Later, delightfully and deservedly, Barnsley dispatched Chelsea, before today Cardiff City got rid of Middlesborough and were then joined in the semis by West Bromwich Albion (or "W.B.A" as Hayley insists on calling them). So the weekend seems to have been conducted to a (radio) soundtrack and/or (TV) backdrop of football.

But the real highlights lay in the details of everyday life. Yesterday lunchtime, having need of some provisions for the tortilla wraps that Hayley was cooking for lunch with Manny, Sara and Jack, I took Lucy over to the shops in her Baby Bjorn carrier. It was a showery, windy day, so I wrapped us both up well and set off with a brolly. Well, nothing of great import happened, but the pleasure of having the little lady attached to my chest to chat to as I did the shopping was a real treat. And of course she's still little enough and cute enough to attract the smiles or endearments of other shoppers. The only hiccup came when I let her take a packet of crisps to play with. I was about to walk through the checkout when I realised she still had them in her hands.

Later yesterday afternoon, as Jack and his parents packed up to leave, Oliver decided to come onto the sofa and snuggle right up next to me, lying his head on my chest. Often he will resist sleep at all costs, but he then happily fell asleep on me. Hayley took Lucy out for some fresh air and when she came back 80 minutes later the two of us had only just woken up. I couldn't think of a nicer way to catch up on sleep.

And boy have I needed some sleep. For a week from last Friday (29th Feb) Lucy had a temperature, on and off, at one point registering 104.9 degrees! She had an out-of-hours trip to the doctor on Wednesday and Hayley consulted the triage nurse every other day. Thankfully she seems to be past the worst of it, but along the way her sleep has gone to pot. Poor Hayley was up for 3 hours on Thursday night and I didn't fair a lot better, despite being granted sanctuary in the spare room so that I could conduct appraisal interviews the following day in a partially conscious state. (One colleague was candid enough to tell me I looked awful the next day.) But last night was better with only occasional stirrings. Unfortunately, along the way this week, Lucy has been coming into our bed (evicting me in the process) and it remains to be seen how easy this will be to correct. We were on the point of moving her to her own room when all this kicked off.

Despite her illness, she's still been a remarkably happy little lady. And she's blessed to have such a loving big brother. I'm so proud of him. Oliver really looks after and entertains Lucy. I came into the living room today to find he had squeezed in next to her to play the toy piano together.



Tonight Oliver and Hayley had the following conversation.
Oliver (on his trike, riding through the kitchen): "I'm going."
Mummy: "Where are you going?"
Oliver: "I'm going to the shops."
Mummy:"On your own?!"
Oliver: "No, I'm going to get Lucy." (And of he went into the living room to see her.)
Lucy adores watching him come down the stairs from her vantage point being carried by me, as he uses both hands to hang on to the banister. Best of all, the other night when Oliver did his usual trick to me of shutting the stair gate quickly behind himself so I couldn't get through to go upstairs with him, Lucy found it hilarious. She really got the joke! How can that be?! She's only 6 months old, but I'm telling you she totally got it and laughed her little socks off. He even repeated the trick for her entertainment with the same effect.

I must admit that seeing them together reminds me of pictures of me at that age with my sister who is 18 months my junior. Oliver looks a lot like me and Lucy has blue eyes as does my sister, but mostly it's the fact that he is always busy doing something and she is almost invariably looking on. I guess it's the lot of the younger sibling.

This evening, after a hectic hour or so of preparations and placating offspring, all four of us managed to have a meal together at the table. Lucy was admittedly finishing off her proper meal with her first taste of garlic bread, which she happily sucked until she fell asleep in her high chair, bib covered in the remnants, looking like Onslow from "Keeping Up Appearances".

But then Hayley, Oliver and I all thoroughly enjoyed the spaghetti bolognaise that Hayley had made. More notably, Oliver was very conversational. For dessert Hayley and he ate ice-pops: a sort of ice-lolly without a stick that you squeeze up out of a long thing sachet. Hayley entertained Oliver by "accidentally" squeezing hers too hard so it popped out as she tried to eat it. The little man laughed that wonderful laugh where he can hardly draw breath before laughing again. And then he said to Hayley "You're funny Mummy". I guess that when we read this back in years or even months to come it won't seem special, but it was a beautiful moment and it marks a change in his language that I have only noticed over the last couple of weeks. No longer does he answer questions in the same terms that they are put to him, he can use his own words to say the same thing. For example, I asked his do you want episode X or episode Y of a TV programme, and he replied "the new one" meaning episode Y. When he told Hayley "You're funny Mummy" it brought tears to my eyes. It's a bitter-sweet feeling to realise that he is really growing up so fast.

The weekend drew to a close with Oliver and I doing something he enjoys: reading together. But this did not involve us both reading the same book. He likes us to sit together and read different books. I read aloud and he "reads" aloud bits of his, turning the pages precisely when I do. After a while he'll start to tell my story too.



So here we are, Oliver exactly two and a half years old yesterday and Lucy speeding towards 7 months. Last night we stood in the kitchen and looked at the two Tommy Tippee plastic bibs on the drainer, one pink and one blue, and pinched ourselves.