Night Duty in the Paediatric Hospital

So, this little guy ended up in the hospital. 

This photo was taken after he did a naughty thing

while getting his temperature taken, read on for the story.

I took the night duty, since everyone else was doing things this morning, and I wasn't. (I missed out on ice cream to be there, so let it never be said I am not committed to the children.) 

It was just filled with all sort of weird. I thought I'd fill you all in.

Firstly, the taxi driver who took me to the hospital asked me to translate an Abba medley for him. He had given me a really good price, so I obliged. (For all those interested parties, I told him I didn't know what 'voulez-vous' meant, translated Money, Money, Money and then just said, "mostly they're singing about men".)

You cannot enter the wards with food. They literally checked my bag. They took a bottle of Coke and a bag of crisps to "look after". I was as shocked as you are that they were still there when I went downstairs at 11pm. I snuck in a little pot of jelly, but then I was too afraid to eat it.

The guy on the loud speaker sounds to me (someone who has never seen Star Wars/Star Trek) like Darth Vader. It's really quite alarming.

#sickbaby is in a ward with 3 other kids with stomach issues, you cannot even imagine the sounds and smells coming from that ward. You cannot.

The doctor is a strange Bolivian, in that he left me with strict rules not to put anymore clothes on the baby, in sharp contrast to everyone else I've ever met here, who don't accept that being raised in Ireland has made me impervious to the cold, or that there is such a thing as too warm. (It was 16 degrees here for two days, the city nearly froze over. I declared the worse one 'quite a nice day'.)

I am sure that the mother of the baby next door to #sickbaby is still trying to convince the doctor to let her put some more clothes on her son.

Said mother also wanted to breastfeed her baby, but they are so strict on input and output of fluids and other such things I was convinced she wouldn't be allowed. (By strict I mean nappies have been weighed, there have been arguments over whether poo is, or is not, liquidy, the same nappy has been removed and placed back into the infectious waste bin at least 3 times...) However, I was incorrect. They have a method. They weigh the child before and after she feeds, now I would like opinions on whether or not this is legit. If I drink a 500ml bottle of Coke, am I 500ml's heavier until I pee? Is this actually how it works?

To sleep, I lay on the floor in a hoody with my head on my bag - it appears that sort of thing will kill you. I was woken (in love) 3 times, to be given something to lie on, a little blanket, and then a big blanket. Oh, you Bolivians and your layers. Northern Ireland would kill you.

#sickbaby woke up at 5am sharp and decided he no longer believed in sleep, and that he was going to tell the other babies in the ward of his beliefs, unless I walked him up and down the corridor continuously. We may or may not have danced a little while we did so.

I didn't put my shoes on to leave the room, doctor told me I had to put them on. Either the floor was dirtying my socks, or my socks were dirtying the floor - it was very early.

7.30am is bathtime. The kids get their temperature taken what I am told is the most accurate way, but certainly not the most pleasant. Unsurprisingly, #sickbaby was far from a fan. He decided the best way to deal with his discomfort was to projectile poo it across the room. Ruined the nice nurse's good towel.

So yes, all in all quite the exciting 12 hours - we're having another sleepover tonight, maybe you'll get more stories.