I don’t even know how to articulate the true mental voyage I went on yesterday. The day started well with a trip to the gym, making use of the creche facilities – but from start to end it’s felt like someone is puppeteering from above, trying desperately to steer me into a state of emergency.
Let me rewind back and explain how my last nursery toddler free day ended in being more about the toddler than the baby. Monday I received a text message to tell me Ariella’s prescriptions were in, perfect I thought – I’ll go get those Thursday on a nursery day. Taking Ariella into a shop like that in which you usually have to wait a small or potentially large amount of time is not an activity I’d choose to do ever – unless I have no choice.
Thursday comes and I visit the pharmacy, no epilepsy medicine just all the others. We have enough to last the day and Friday but not the weekend. The pharmacist assures me that it’s no problem, they aren’t sure why it wasn’t repeated but they would put it through as urgent and it should be ready Friday morning, at the latest Friday afternoon. It’s a little less time than I’d hope for, granted but I had no reason to think it wouldn’t be completely fine.
That evening Ariella does something really odd while sat in her highchair, an odd jerk and muscle twitch – we have no idea what happened but we do know it wasn’t right and are waiting for more information on this. There has been a lot of screaming, lots of hand tremors lately so we’ve had a heads up that something isn’t quite right, while concerned we move on – with plans to query this later.
Friday arrives, I go to the gym and just as I’m getting in the car to head home my phone rings. Nursery, well what is this going to be? I think pretty much every parent assumes the Calpol call, am I right? I never assume that anymore because I’m child is way past the Calpol call. Absent seizures, lots of absences reported throughout the day – I get a call later to say some odd things were occurring while she slept. Eight members of staff are surrounding her watching and waiting to see if she’s going to have a seizure. I know why because it’s terrifying alone, being alone and responsible for administering rescue medication is not to be taken lightly.
I get home and call the pharmacy to check the medication is in, my second task of the day. It hasn’t arrived yet but is probably going to be here by lunch time I’m told – call back later and if not the pharmacy will chase. Feeling a little unsure about waiting and relying on someone else to action the task I drive to the doctors surgery to speak with the receptionist, the very lovely lady informs me that the epilepsy medication has fallen off the list – somehow. Explained why the repeat didn’t go through, explained why the following urgent repeat didn’t go through too.
I called the doctors last week to check that it had processed through as the medication is often changing, increasing in dose and up until that point being distributed every two weeks. How did it go from all there and correctly change to every month, to not being there at all.
The receptionist takes all the details down and goes off to find a doctor to sign for a new prescription so it can be sent to my pharmacy. All being done urgently, I leave pretty reassured that I will get a phone call, the lady was nice and I could tell she understood the implications of going cold turkey from that medication. Lots of seizures. This lady followed through with her actions, thank you receptionist lady.
I do get the call, it’s ready at the pharmacy for me to go and request, for them to fill it and I would soon enough be heading my way down with my todo list ticked off. Reassured I head into the pharmacy, they look and say “It’s not in stock, but we can order it for tomorrow (Saturday)?”.
My brain just stops for a moment, the very same lady that I spoke to Thursday and had a conversation about the medication being required for Friday. The same lady who promised to chase the GP for me but never did knowing it needed to be filled the same day. The very same one is staring at me telling me there is no stock in…Today.
I explained again it needs to be administered at 6am Saturday morning and we run out this evening. They begin calling all the local pharmacies asking if anyone has any stock, three calls later – no stock. Finally one pharmacy does and the prescription is released, two boxes kept back and we can pick it up whenever. Relief again. Sorted, but not ticked off the list just yet.
Jamie heads out while I feed the children their dinner and reaches the new in stock pharmacy only to be told he needs a Docket. What the heck is a Docket? I get a call from him saying that the pharmacy won’t give him the prescription without a docket. I explain that it’s completely electronic, the original pharmacy was sent it electronically, we have no paper documentation after he tells me this docket is a piece of paper.
It’s now been several hours since my very last nursery day started and I was still without my child’s pills that she needed. I phone the new pharmacy and speak to them directly, after a really quick download from me in the most polite manner I could manage they ask for Ariella’s NHS number and it’s all rectified in seconds. Medicine in hand, job done, tick. Manic laughing and a glass of wine. What could possible go wrong next?
Oh that’s right, then there is also the seizure activity. Fingers crossed for a quiet weekend!