(Actually, writing this at 00:47, but it's still Monday really)

[ailbhe]

So the terrifying thing Linnea did today was...

(Everything is fine now)...

I looked at her mouth and saw blue goo, and established that it was blue icing from a cake-decorating pack of mixed colours, and had her fetch the pack and put it in the bin. Some time later, I glanced under the dining table and saw an empty Calpol box (brand name paracetamol/acetaminophen) along with two opened but unfinished packs of jelly, a pack of wholemeal mini pizza bases, some wholemeal pitta breads, etc. The Calpol box was empty and the sachets were in the bin. I thought, but was not sure, that it was the pack I bought for Astrid the day of her vaccinations, none of which she had needed, so it would have been full - 12 x 5ml sachets of 120mg of paracetamol each.

I phoned NHS Direct (I was so frightened I had to look the number up, usually I can remember it) and fished the sachets out of the bin and counted them; 12. All opened, not all completely emptied. I also managed to impress upon Linnea and Emer how important it was to know the truth and got them to agree on a story, which was that Linnea had had them all ("Emer did it! I'm not lying!" wasn't as convincing as she'd hoped.)

It took a long time for me to establish that she hadn't taken a potentially fatal dose. She wasn't passed out in front of me, and on some level I must have known she wasn't that sick, because I didn't call 999. But I wasn't totally thrilled anyway.

They had to ask questions about her body temperature and alertness and rashes and so on. I tried to answer them. I really, really understand, now, why people dial 999 and say things like "I don't know where I live! Just send an ambulance now!"

I weighed her. I had the packets in front of me so when they asked what she had taken I was able to say Calpol sachets, 12 5ml sachets at 120mg of paracetamol each, that's 1.44 grams. They asked how big she was and I was able to say "I can chase her down and put her on the scales."

I took her trousers off for the scales, because they were her heaviest garment. She weighs about 22kg, apparently.

The dangerous dose is apparently 150mg per kilo. She'd had less than half that.

OK.

Except, keep an eye on her. Give her milk to drink - oh, wait, no, don't because what you're looking for is vomiting or stomach pain or stomach upset or headache, all of which dairy intolerance could present as.

If any of those show up, go straight to hospital.

---

So I hung up, and had her drink plenty and eat lots, and we went to her swimming lesson, even. And then before I could eat my dinner I phoned NHS Direct back to ask when I could stop worrying, and they said "Oh, hours ago, symptoms would have shown up by now."

Oh, but first they asked if I thought she'd done it to cause herself harm.

---

I do not want today to have happened. I don't WANT it.

And I wish Linnea wanted to sleep in my bed where I could tell she was there, all night.

I was trying to think, while I was fishing packets out of the bin and waiting for the how-do-you-spell-that and what-postcode-is-that questions to end, what I would say to her if I had to tell her she was going to die.

I couldn't think of anything.

Comments

[cabbagemedley.livejournal.com]

Christ. Chills down my spine reading about it. So glad she's OK.