... That's what today was all about, a completely unexpected series of events.
The day started so well, we had been to Bluewater yesterday to get curtains and bits for the new house and we had promised the children that if they could be good in John Lewis, for a change, then we would have a family day out on Sunday.
So Sunday came and we were all set to go out on a picnic and a simple fun filled day at the park, playing football and catching butterflies... A typically idyllic September day in South East England....
We didn't count on the cat.....
I was just upstairs when I heard KC sobbing in the family room... My immediate reaction was to ask TJ what he had done. TJ looked at me indignantly, "I didn't do anything," he said, "it's not always my fault." I think the jury is still out on that one.
I went downstairs and my blood ran cold. KC looked up at me and blood was pouring out of his left eye. "What happened!" I cried. "Max scratched me in the face." came the sobbing reply. We quickly bathed the eye in cold water and surveyed the damage. It looked ok but we decided not to take any risks and I rushed her down to our local A & E.
I was imagining a scene out of Casualty or Holby City. I already knew tha ER was way out of reach but what greeted me was more like something out of a Carry On film. The 'waiting room' , resembled a holding pen for the outcast population of our area. My inner snob took a tumble and I must have looked stunned as the triage nurse saw us straight away.... Well, it may have been the blood pouring from KC's eye but I like to make things about myself. They cleaned him up and asked millions of inappropriate questions about why our surnames were different, why I didn't know his medical history etc... I explained the situation and told them we hope the adoption order will be signed soon, to which the ugly cow behind the desk replied, "so officially he's still in foster care then... Who's his social worker?" I told you it was nothing like hospitals on the tv... This receptionist had the hygiene of a pit bull and resembled one too!
"You don't have to wait with them," she waved her hand towards the now growing mass of the great unwashed, "You can go in the children's area." we went to the little door as she shouted after us, "there's no nurses in there but someone will come for you, it's about an hour's wait."
We went into the children's waiting area and once again I was stunned. It was filthy. Like something out of a third world documentary. There was a man in there whose son had broken his arm, they had waited an hour for the X-ray and had now waited an hour more to get the results. We were soon joined by another family. They knew the routine and the hospital extremely well, they came on a regular basis. Told me the tea was crap and the nurses were dreadful (I paraphrase, I can write their actual language here). I turned the tv up so KC could watch that instead of listening to the mother berating her daughter for causing her to have to come to hospital again and waste her Sunday. " never come here on a Sunday!" she wisely imparted, "The doctors don't come in on a weekend and you just get the scummy nurses" Those were her exact words. I smiled as she added, "Mind you this waiting room's cleaner than my house."
She wasn't far off the truth though. There were no doctors at all. We eventually saw a lovely nurse after about two hours. She examined KC's eye and said that he was lucky, it was just a superficial scratch which looked worse than it was. A few eye drops, an eye patch and we were on our way. As we left the influx of Sunday sporting injuries was arriving... KC looked at them and said, "I don't know why they play football if they are going to get hurt.... They must all be rubbish players!" I smiled as the four members of he local rugby team threw me an icy glare.
We quickly left!
The day started so well, we had been to Bluewater yesterday to get curtains and bits for the new house and we had promised the children that if they could be good in John Lewis, for a change, then we would have a family day out on Sunday.
So Sunday came and we were all set to go out on a picnic and a simple fun filled day at the park, playing football and catching butterflies... A typically idyllic September day in South East England....
We didn't count on the cat.....
I was just upstairs when I heard KC sobbing in the family room... My immediate reaction was to ask TJ what he had done. TJ looked at me indignantly, "I didn't do anything," he said, "it's not always my fault." I think the jury is still out on that one.
I went downstairs and my blood ran cold. KC looked up at me and blood was pouring out of his left eye. "What happened!" I cried. "Max scratched me in the face." came the sobbing reply. We quickly bathed the eye in cold water and surveyed the damage. It looked ok but we decided not to take any risks and I rushed her down to our local A & E.
I was imagining a scene out of Casualty or Holby City. I already knew tha ER was way out of reach but what greeted me was more like something out of a Carry On film. The 'waiting room' , resembled a holding pen for the outcast population of our area. My inner snob took a tumble and I must have looked stunned as the triage nurse saw us straight away.... Well, it may have been the blood pouring from KC's eye but I like to make things about myself. They cleaned him up and asked millions of inappropriate questions about why our surnames were different, why I didn't know his medical history etc... I explained the situation and told them we hope the adoption order will be signed soon, to which the ugly cow behind the desk replied, "so officially he's still in foster care then... Who's his social worker?" I told you it was nothing like hospitals on the tv... This receptionist had the hygiene of a pit bull and resembled one too!
"You don't have to wait with them," she waved her hand towards the now growing mass of the great unwashed, "You can go in the children's area." we went to the little door as she shouted after us, "there's no nurses in there but someone will come for you, it's about an hour's wait."
We went into the children's waiting area and once again I was stunned. It was filthy. Like something out of a third world documentary. There was a man in there whose son had broken his arm, they had waited an hour for the X-ray and had now waited an hour more to get the results. We were soon joined by another family. They knew the routine and the hospital extremely well, they came on a regular basis. Told me the tea was crap and the nurses were dreadful (I paraphrase, I can write their actual language here). I turned the tv up so KC could watch that instead of listening to the mother berating her daughter for causing her to have to come to hospital again and waste her Sunday. " never come here on a Sunday!" she wisely imparted, "The doctors don't come in on a weekend and you just get the scummy nurses" Those were her exact words. I smiled as she added, "Mind you this waiting room's cleaner than my house."
She wasn't far off the truth though. There were no doctors at all. We eventually saw a lovely nurse after about two hours. She examined KC's eye and said that he was lucky, it was just a superficial scratch which looked worse than it was. A few eye drops, an eye patch and we were on our way. As we left the influx of Sunday sporting injuries was arriving... KC looked at them and said, "I don't know why they play football if they are going to get hurt.... They must all be rubbish players!" I smiled as the four members of he local rugby team threw me an icy glare.
We quickly left!
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