Hell at the Hospital (or, Don't Look at the Broccoli)

Ever have one of those days?

You know the ones I'm talking about- the dog barks all night, you can't sleep for coughing, no bread for breakfast, the car won't start first go, a not-so-friendly red Reminder notice in the mail, technology malfunctions at work, you fight with your hubby, the kids fight with each other, reeeallly bad hair day, and then ... uncooperative vegies.

Yep, after the hell of the last few days/weeks/months, I am faced with floppy broccoli.

Call it the straw that broke the camel's back (Do camels eat broccoli? Or straw for that matter?) but it is enough to make me squeeeeze the last few drops out of the red wine bottle, and want to run away from the world for a while.

Here's the Reader's Digest™ condensed version for you:

My son had to go back to hospital (second time in just over a month) for some pretty aggressive treatment for his Juvenile Arthritis. Now, at age 7, and having had JIA since he was about 7 months of age (and being under anaesthetic 7 times now), he is, understandably- OVER it. So he resisted- with extreme prejudice- the latest lot of aspirations and injections.

And so, having had to leave home a whole day ahead of schedule to catch a train (a load of laughs with a wheelchair) then beg a bed and a ride with a friend because my car is still M.I.A., it was one unhappy little boy that was being prepped for anaesthetic. So I had to hold him while they put the numbing cream on, then hold him down again while they cannulated him, and then I had to hold the gas mask over his face to put him to sleep because he flat out refused to let the doctor or nurse do it. Oh, and then gently hold him down again as he was coming out of it (like a junkie on a bad trip).

In the days after he has been alternating between crying and cranky due to the pain of having needles stuck into his swollen joints (and quite frankly, can you blame him?) and all he wanted for tea was fish fingers and broccoli (it's his favourite vegetable, go figure).

So because My Beloved has taken himself off to bed, I am on dinner duty again (do mums ever really get a day off?) and I pull the vegies out of the fridge. You got it, floppy broccoli.

I pad it out with the frozen veg I keep on hand in case of emergency (like, now!) cross my fingers and hope for the best. With luck, he won't notice, I can put the kids to bed at a reasonable time, and get back to the business of draining the dregs of the red.

Cheers!

Jx

©6 May 2009