Friday, 10 July 2015

Day 2 in the Hospital.

Last night was less exciting.

Still a lot of poo, but thankfully all contained.

Had amusing conversations with the mums on the ward about who had come to look after #sickbaby during the day. It basically went,

"One of them was very white (Danyelle, Texan, blonde and just slightly less pale than I am) and the other two were not white at all. (Gina and Michelle, who are Korean-Americans)"

Bless them.

Brought my duvet with me (no Paddington cover, their heads would have exploded...)  caused all manner of confusion as they're not really a thing here.

"What is that?! What do you call it?! Did you get it here?! Can I touch it?!"

In related topics, if anyone knows the Spanish for duvet, please let me know.
(I believe the American for duvet is comforter, if you're confused. Thank you Big Bang Theory.)

I slept through his six o'clock bottle, which the others are amazed by because about it was freezing. Despite the fact that we had a heater on in the room and, you know, it's not the North Pole.

In my defence, #sickbaby also slept through it til he was woken by my (ex-) favourite doctor who has apparently decided that he was wrong about "stop putting so many clothes on them" and instead had three blankets on #sickbaby in the heated room.

I also discovered during the night, one of the little boys in the room is called Geronimo.

Favourite. Name. Ever.

Today's nurse was less nice than yesterday's (and he chose not to poo on her, we are clearly not on the same page). She told on me for smuggling up a bottle of coke, and called security who came up, told me off, and took it away.

I have since been reunited with my coke, Danyelle had her coffee taken off her, and we switched out. 

And we are now done because #notsosickbaby gets discharged this morning.

<insert happy photo of #sickbaby>

Except there isn't one. You wouldn't smile either if you were in a ward filled with other babies with diarrhoea. You can have a sleeping photo instead.

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