Monday 11th of October 1999
I was so horribly ill on Saturday that I had to miss my driving lesson in the afternoon. To make it worse R. was working from 9 to 3 in the morning and I had to look after you which I didn’t do that well as I spent most of the time half-dead crawling around the house and then took a nap with you. But I woke up feeling much better the next day (yesterday).
Yesterday R., you and I went out for the day. The weather was fine for this time of the year so we decided to go to Greenwich (R. had never been). First we went to Convent Garden, to buy some pens, photo albums and stuff at Mojo (a nice Japanese shop). We had something to eat while trying to keep you entertained and then we walked towards Leicester Square. I bought you a big, fat cardboard book (you just love playing with books…) and 5 not so fat cardboard books. All Winnie the Pooh’s. We went to Charing Cross to catch the train to Greenwich. On the way there you were in your pram, facing the people standing on the entrance. You were entertaining a couple, being cute and smiling at them. The more they encouraged you, the louder your laughter was becoming. I was beginning to blush and I couldn’t stop giggling. As I looked around some people were smiling, some people were giggling too, and everyone was just being amused by the noises you were making (not everyone could see you but they could all hear your laugh). Then you just made this incredible baby noise, some mad monkey/baby/dolphin noise that just sent everyone into hysterics. I just heard this rumble of laughter, tears running down my cheeks. It was kind of crazy! Then you just got overexcited and I could see you were going the other way. We picked you up and everyone went back to being serious…
Pushing the pram with all 10kg (9.780 kg to be more exact) of you up the Greenwich big hill was no fun, to make it worse there were these brick bumps all the way up and R. had to pull the pram, while I pushed it on this seriously steep hill. Needless to say, by the time we got up there we were completely out of breath (smokers!). You just stopped crying. You had been screaming all the way up, and that really embarrasses R. who can’t deal with you crying in public, or even at home, come to think of it.
You’ve had this thing growing on the skin around your eyes for the last 6 days. At first it was just a little scratch (we thought you had scratched yourself during the night), but then it’s been steadily growing and when we woke up today it looked big enough to worry us. The area affected was about 2 cm across this morning. I went food shopping at around 9:30 (R. only has a lecture in the afternoon), got back home at 11:00. On the cab home everything just turned into a twilight zone. First of all, the driver turned left instead of right into Hornsey Road. Then there was a massive queue on the exit from Hornsey Road (towards Holloway Road). After waiting we finally turned left into the road (Madras Place) that leads to Ringcroft Street and there was this rubbish truck on the road. It tried to squeeze through but there was not enough space, so the cab driver reversed and did a U-turn on the road, only he scrapped the bonnet on curb! Nothing else happened and I got home safely but shaken, what a journey home, and the supermarket it’s only 1.5 km away, if that.
R. went to his lecture and after your nap I took you to the Health Clinic. They took a look at your eye (after we waited for an hour, as the place was packed, and you were going for this little 3 year-old girl’s hair, who was truly scared of you after a while…) and said you need antibiotics but they cannot prescribe it. The GP has to do it (bureaucracy).
When I got home your dad was here, as the lecture was too boring (basic) for him. We took you to the GP at 10 to 5 (surgery starts at 5). It looked more like a pub when we walked in. It was packed! All the chairs were taken and a couple of people were standing. We spoke to the receptionist who said there was only 1 doctor in, Mr. Bowry. (there are usually 2, Mr. and Mrs. Bowry). I told her all we needed was a prescription for your eye and she said she’d try and get to be seen quickly. A kind soul offered us seats. While we waited you kept the old ladies amused, with cute faces and little laughs. The surgery was getting busier now, with more prams coming in… Then a mother ran in, holding a boy who had just banged his head, it was bleeding and he had been vomiting. The poor boy had his hand around his mouth, holding the vomit inside it! They were sent through and I just heard the mum asking for a bucket for the poor buy who had the decency (or was scared to death) to hold his vomit.
It was looking like we were going to be there for a good hour and suddenly I heard your surname. I wasn’t sure if I had really heard it as R. was just sitting there (but he is a bit deaf), so I said to R. “it’s us”, not even being sure and luckily it was. So you got prescribed antibiotics : 50ml of Amoxycillin syrup and a rub for your eye, Fucidin. I hate giving you antibiotics, but when it comes to infections I don’t really have a choice. You have Impetigo. We asked Dr. Bowry (he’s such a nice guy!) about giving you the MMR in 3 separate doses, because of the possible link to autism. Well, it’s true, no chance! Not possible in England, not even in the private sector! I don’t know what to do. I really don’t want you to have it all in one go, not only because of the risk of autism, but because it’s too much for anyone’s system to cope with 3 illnesses at once.
I should have been a historian. I just love writing all the details down …