Getting here was actually the easy part. Once we were given the green light to come back to the States. I immediately booked us tickets home. Always a challenge especially with British Airways, we at least managed to get on the same flight, seats together were another story. I felt we needed to go sooner rather than later although there are always things to do and friends to see. I felt the time on the other end would be more beneficially for us.
We were also fighting the clock against a pregnant cat our in-laws had. One of the Lindsell's cats, became pregnant while we are there and as she grew so did our worry. New pets and especially baby animals are big bacteria no-nos for Rafiki and I am sure if we were around for the exciting moment of motherhood, Rafiki would want to join in with his cousins holding and petting each and ever kitty. We beat the kittens arrival by a week.
I booked tickets for us to come home June 11th. There was a lot to get done before leaving especially figuring out how we were going to get all the stuff we had accumulated home. Now that Rafiki is two and we basically pay full price for his seat, he had a baggage allowance thankfully. Rafiki had one huge duffle bag just of his toys and books; all the thoughtful presents friends and family had sent for his birthday and his hospital stay.
I am incapable of traveling light. My Dad always is surprised that I mange to fit 20 pounds of stuff into a 10 pound bag. Between the three of us we had-2 camera bags, 1 laptop bag, diaper bag, 2 carry-ons, purse, stroller and 4 giant duffle bags. We had so much stuff we had to do a trial run in the car to see if we could even make it to the airport with all our kit. Liz, our sister -in-law only had a small Land Rover.
http://www.analogstereo.com/images/om/land_rover_freelander.jp
It sounds big but was only big in the gas prices. A full tank of diesel in England cost us $120. So with painstaking precision Patrick got it all in leaving room for Liz to even see out the back window.
The 24 hour journey began with a 2 hour drive to the airport. At the airport we were told the prized bulk head seats I had tried so hard to get the few weeks before were already booked. This is after phone calls and emails to British Airways telling them we were traveling with a sick child. Everyone of the customer service people said they would make note of it but there was nothing they could do until the day of the flight.
Patrick and Rafiki had originally flown British Airways over to London in February and had a variety of unhappy incidents and Patrick was not thrilled at the idea of flying them back. We are still waiting to see if they will give us any kind of refund for the tickets we lost when Rafiki became ill in March. It really is amazing how corporate and unfeeling people and organizations have become. A society of fear that doesn't allow employees to think and care about their customers because it might break the rules and maybe they could lose their job. Often I do find it hard to believe that the person I am speaking to is actually a human.
The woman booking us in at the airport, did have a heart however and tried her hardest to find us seats at least near each other. She was successful with that and also gave us access to the Big Executive club but we didn't' have time to take advantage of it. Rafiki and I toured the amazing facility which included a theater, a couple bars, massages, kids area, buffet and a view of the tarmack.
When she called to get us access to it, she quietly whispered to the person on the other line that the couple she was inquiring about were traveling with a critically ill child. My heart dropped I had never thought of our situation like that and it hit me in the chest with a lot of power. Already a bit stressed about the flight, getting through security and arriving safely I started to get a bit emotional. It is moments like those when I actually have a few seconds to see outside myself, see what other people see and realize, wow.. this is really our lives.
The flight went well and Rafiki was a star for most of it. He slept at least half of it. We managed to get through customs and immigration faster than I have ever before and were greeted by our good friends Julie Quihuiz and Mia Giard. Mia was a surprise we weren't expecting. Luckily we managed to fit all the kit in my Honda CR-V.
Because of our concern for us to get settled in immediately with our medical care. We booked an appointment to see the Dr. Greffe on the 12th the day after we arrived. We wanted to be prepared. If Rafiki's temperature gets above 100 we automatically go into the hospital as that is the first sign there may be an infection. If that were to happen we wanted to make sure we would be taken care of in the way we had been before.
Hoping that our visit would blow Patrick away was just enough to set me up for a disappointing result.
Of course the hospital was as gorgeous as I remember it. We got there early so we could get a bite to eat and have a look around. We started to hit a few little bumps in the road as we began our appointment. All being tired and anxious added to the situation. We were brought into an exam room which was incredibly sterile. The sight of it, sent Rafiki into tears, knowing only to well what he was in for. This was one of the rooms I had not seen, not that it really would have made a difference in the big picture but I was a little surprised. There wasn't a poster on the wall, not even an informational one and there was one book to read that was for middle schoolers and was a medical book not to exciting for Rafiki.
The nurse struggled to get Rafiki's vitals. His least favorite; getting his blood pressure taken which they try to do on his leg but have a hard time getting an accurate reading as most of the time he is hysterical.
After that was done the nurse brought Rafiki a nice noisy truck and that quieted him down for a bit. Dr. Greffe came in and we discussed all our adventures in the medical field so far and showed him the meds we had brought back with us. Rafiki seemed to be very comfortable with him. Rafiki does seem to favor male doctors.
We started to fill in the pieces and then of course came to the dreaded blood taking. Rafiki has a central line with an exterior port called a Groshong.
Central line: A catheter (tube) that is passed through a vein to end up in the thoracic (chest) portion of the vena cava (the large vein returning blood to the heart) or in the right atrium of the heart.
http://www.medterms.com/script/main/art.asp?articlekey=14394
The Groshong is a very common type of catheter in England but no so here.
http://www.rad.washington.edu/clinical/patinfo/interventional-radiology-clinic/Interventional-Procedures/vascular-access
So needless to say there has been a bit of confusion. The first attempts at taking Rafiki's blood from the Phlebotomist greatly concerned as, as access was not smooth and there was a struggle to get the blood taken and the line flushed clean.
It was quite the change from the last visit we had from our community nurse Janet Meikel in Stalbridge, in which Rafiki didn't even flinch the entire time.
We tried to describe the tools,syringes, and methods that they use in the UK but neither the nurse or the Phlebotomist was familiar with the groshong and it really surprised us. This was not something we anticipated.
I had met a lovely young girl, Zoey who is in the maintenance part of her chemo here in Fort Collins before I left. When I met with her and her family Zoey generously let me see and feel her central line which was under the skin and requires an injection. At the time I just figured different kids had different port for different reasons, and I really had no reason to believe that the groshong would not be used here.
Rafiki a brave boy quickly recovered and was up for exploring the hospital. On the ride home I asked Patrick what he thought and in his typical style said he was going to reserve judgement.
Fair enough. For right now I was just glad to be back home and in our own space and together.
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