Hospitals

Last week we had to take Harry to The Maelor for an eye operation. It wasn’t a major procedure by any means – he had a blocked tear duct that meant his eye was prone to running. However, he had to have a general anaesthetic and that was the scary bit.

Having been to the pre-op the day before the operation, Melissa called me in work and said I would have to take the day off. “There’s no way I can take him down to be put out,” she said.

It was the worst bit. I took him down to the anaesthetic room where, despite a room full of terrifying machines, Harry managed to keep a stiff upper lip. He even let the nurses attach the heart monitor without fuss, even though his bottom lip trembled a couple of times. However, when they attached the cannula he began to cry, looking at me as if to say ‘how could you’. Within seconds of the injection he was flat out, leaving me feeling terrible.

We then had to wait an hour while the operation was carried out – which meant an hour of staring at my watch and pacing up and down the corridors of the hospital. It wasn’t a nice feeling. After what seemed like an age, we got the message to say he was in recovery and practically ran to get him. All I could hear as we dashed in to the room was Harry shouting ‘daddy’.

He was very grumpy - a combination of being woken up, something he's not keen on at the best of times, and being ravenously hungry (he wasn't allowed to eat or drink before the operation).

Eventually I asked a nurse if Harry could have something to eat. Thankfully she said yes and I swear I've never seen a piece of bread disappear so quickly. Before he'd finished, Harry wanted another slice. He sat on the bed and said 'Ask lady for more toast.' When I told him I would speak to her in a minute, he responded by asking for his shoes saying, 'Harry go ask lady for toast'. We knew he was on the mend.

The staff on children’s ward who looked after us were absolutely fantastic and helped make the experience as pleasant as possible. The playroom was also very impressive - Harry didn’t want to leave when we were told we could go home.

The following day, it was as if nothing had happened; Harry woke us up by putting a soaking wet, freezing cold flannel on our heads. Perhaps it was revenge for that anaesthetic.