Counting Chickens

The next x 28 bit

I have made such remarkable leaps in personal development since being in the hotel. I have written before about my vocabulary, and Reyhan who used to look after me, let you in on our secret about learning to count in Turkish through her blog comment.  One thing I have clearly not yet learnt is how to count chickens. Least, not before they hatch. 

So the date on the whiteboard of 7 May has clearly been missed. I am still in the hotel and not quite sure when my next holiday will be.  

Touching wood whilst tempting fate is clearly nothing like holding a Joker whilst playing rummy. My big sister loves playing rummy. She is in fact very good at rummy.  Dad was quite keen to teach her from a very young age as he loves nothing more than settling in with a glass of red or a pint at the pub and playing a bit of cards. These days Kayla plays more with Grandad and even some of Grandad's friends. The common denominator throughout is the glass of red or pint. She doesn't mind though. Back to the touching wood.  I think I was touching wood during my last update about not getting an infection. Well, you needn't know your times tables to figure out what happened.

My blood counts were all really low, and I remember going to bed with a bag of orange juice hanging next to my milk bottle. I woke up the next morning, gave dad a wry smile, and then brought up my overnight feed all over my ever so pretty bedding and of course, Lamby.

A quick change of bedding later, I could not help myself getting sick again, and again, and again. When my stomach was finally empty and the anti sick medicine which had subsequently been "pushed" into my bloodstream via my wiggley's had finally kicked in, the sickness finally halted.  Unfortunately, I soon developed a fever to rival my hot coal analogy way back in round 1. 

The blue coats were very quick to hook me up to no less than 3 antibiotics. Two as transfusions and one "just a push" through my wiggley's. I must make a mention, without leaving anybody out on purpose, but there is one blue coat in particular who has looked after me for the majority of my days during round 2 and round 3. Her name is Katie. I will try and get a picture of her on here. I love Katie looking after me. Mum and dad love Katie looking after me. I think Katie loves looking after me too. Sometimes I think we fallout, like when she has to change my nose tube, or the weekly dressing change which goes over my wiggley's into my chest.  It really really hurts. I cry lots, but she makes up for it very quickly by letting me choose a present from the treasure chest. The treasure chest is a REALLY big bucket filled with toys. The treasure chest is kept locked in the "Treatment Room". Last week I found a set of keys in our room which I was convinced would let me into the said "Treatment Room". Needless to say, much to chuckles from big people in the corridor, it was clearly the wrong set of keys.

OK, I know I am going to get into trouble right now, but I do need to give a special mention also to another blue coat, Stacey, and green coat, Nicola or Nicci we call her. I think I have a natural sparkle in my eyes, but these beautiful ladies magnify that sparkle day in and day out. They just "get me". It makes my day, and mum and dad's days a little easier too.