Sleeping Pest

This about sums up the frustration of the morning. A very early start, no peace, no relax, sick, demanding toddler, need to get up and dressed to go out for an appointment at the hospital, and then boy decides that - at 10.30, when we need to leave the house at 11.15 - he absolutely has to close his eyes and go to sleep again.

At least I finally managed to extricate myself and got dressed and frantically tried to gather everything we'd need to go out with, including a bag of clothes so he could get dressed once we got there, but I managed to forget - crucially - proper food for myself.

I woke Ben up and got him in the buggy and we set off. It's a 20 minute brisk walk to the hospital and we were running a bit late so I had to walk as fast as my stomach would allow, which Ben enjoyed. Got there, clinic running late as per usual. I don't remember ever going to one of these joint diabetes/antenatal clinic with Ben where they were ever running on time. Pregnant diabetic women usually have a whole host of other related complications so these clinics do tend to be time-consuming.

By the time I was seen I was starving hungry. Blood sugar could be guaranteed to be high so I didn't need lucozade, please no don't give me lucozade. I need bread. Toast. Crisps. Starch. Stodge. Anything to stop me feeling hungry. But no, nothing; and I was convinced to stay rather than nip down to the cafe to grab something, because I was next to be seen.

My team: my diabetes consultant, the specialist diabetes midwife/nurse, and my obstetric consultant. All there, nice to see them rather than registrars! The poor midwife though, Ben decided she was the one to play with so she missed the entire conversation. But she wasn't too concerned, I'll be checking in with her every week anyway by phone. Clinic done, just had to get bloods done (second lot in a week *sigh*) and refil my urine sample pot, and then in theory we could go. Except by the time the blood was taken I was ready to collapse with hunger-sickness and ended up being fed cake. I'd been promised biscuits though so Ben was a bit upset that cake arrived instead, he didn't want cake.

With all that I forgot to book in to the next clinicon my way out, so I'll have to phone up next week.

Off to the pharmacy to hand in a prescription for baby aspirin (even though my bp was 92/60 and was always on the low side with Ben as well, I've been put on a daily aspirin to help guard against the risk of elevated blood pressure. Standard practise now with diabs apparently.) then down to the cafe to eat while we wait, only to realise I have zero cash and they don't take card payment. Apparently the restaurant does though so off we trundled - very slowly - to find the restaurant at the other end of the hospital. My hopes of macaroni cheese dashed when I could only find sandwiches and pastries on offer. By the time I'd gathered enough bits and pieces to make up a lunch for us both I was ready to cry and when Ben refused to sit still when I was trying unsuccessfully to inject the insulin I did cry. Still, we got there. Amazing what a bit of food can do to improve a temper. And by the time we'd finished and got the pills Steve was home (half day) so he came and picked us up.

That was just the morning.

Afternoon: desperate bath. Packing for a weekend away. Realising I'd run out of needles over the weekend so panicked last-minute call to the surgery for prescription. Mad dash to collect it and grateful smiles to the receptionist! Off to manchester, stopped at first chippy we came to for chips, back on the road again. Wee stops, food stops, feel sick stops... Manchester by midnight *phew* and collapse.

I think that's enough for one day.