She has pneumonia, he said, she needs to be admitted to hospital. Tears in my eyes in an instant but I blink them away and smile at her... she has a crackle in her lung, he says. Do you want me to call the xray technician in now? Its an extra charge on a Sunday... part of me wants to cry "yes - we need to do all we can, right now" and the rest of me stays calm. No, we will come tomorrow for an xray, we are going home tonight. She is lethargic, coughing constantly, but ok. She is brave, a trooper, a star, when he sticks a penicillin needle in her bottom... "Ow mummy, that really really hurt" she says, and a piece of my heart is grated off...
We go home, she vomits all over the couch. My head is racing with fears. She rests ok and the penicillin seems to be helping.
In some ways I am guiltily relieved to have something other than work to focus on, a priority that trumps all the deadlines.
We go to have an xray the next morning and its not pneumonia, its bronchitis.
Another grey hair has however, settled into place forever.
Parenting... alone...in a foreign land...
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