Medical mishaps and motherly mismanagement

Last week we had more medical emergencies than an episode of Casualty.

I started the week cooing with pride as O learnt how to climb the step in the bathroom. "Come and see!" I called to N, who arrived just in time to witness O yelp as he flung himself head first at the only sharp corner in the room.

A couple of days later, I took O, now sporting a rather fetching cut and bruise on his cheekbone, to the Lakeland Wildlife Oasis to see sad Snow Leopards, odd looking hares and handsome red squirrels. I gave him his lunch in the cafe - my extra special homemade cheesy rice balls - which he happily smeared all over his face. Sadly, the cheese i'd used
was not my normal chedder. I'd noticed the pungent smell when i'd mixed it into the rice, but O will eat anything, so I didn't worry. I should have.

Almost immediately the skin around his mouth, now covered in cheesy rice, turned scarlet and started to blister. I manically wiped the food off his face and spurted water over his mouth and cheeks, while O protested wildly, grabbing the cheesy rice back from my hands and trying to stuff it all in his mouth again. "Should I take him to A&E?" I frantically asked the lady at the table next to me. She suggested I waited to see what happened. As I watched, the rash and blisters receded, while O devoured yoghurt, banana and a scotch pancake as if nothing had happened.

I didn't make it to A&E on that occasion, but two days later I was feeding O some salmon, when I noticed a fish bone on the spoon. I quickly removed it and put it to one side. 'Thank heavens I spotted it before he swallowed it' I thought to myself, as I fed O the rest of his salmon and carrot sticks. At the end of his meal he had a bit of a cough and rubbed food into his eye, which made him cry. He always does that - I shouldn't have been surprised. But when I looked at the post meal carnage, I couldn't see the fish bone - it had gone. Suddenly I was convinced he'd swallowed the bone. He's not fake coughing - he's choking to death! He's rubbing his eye! He's got a fish bone in his eye! He's crying! He's in distress! On reflection, I suspect he was choking because I was sticking my finger down his throat, trying to fish out and fish bone, which I imagine is rather distressing. Maybe he was rubbing his eye in disbelief? Anyway - I was hysterical, O was hysterical, N's phone was out of battery. So I called NHS direct, and that was when things got rather out of hand.

They insisted I needed immediate help and put me through to 999, who said they were sending an ambulance. By this time, O was sitting in my arms, totally calm, laughing at the kitchen clock. But the ball was rolling and within minutes paramedics were thundering up the stairs.

Once in the ambulance I was told to lie on the stretcher while they strapped me down to the bed and covered me with a blanket (?). O was sat on my lap, where he promptly fell asleep, like a baby without a fish bone stuck in his throat. On arrival at A&E, O woke up and proceeded to beam happily at doctors, nurses and patients alike, as if to say 'not having a fish bone stuck in my throat is brilliant!'. After watching O stare mesmerised by The Hairy Bikers for a good 15 minutes, then down 7 ounces of milk, the doctor sent O and I home, on the basis that he probably didn't have a fish bone stuck in his throat.

I was embarrassed - but relieved.