Today has been a nightmare.

Firstly, Isabel had to have a radio isotope scan to make sure that there's nothing wrong with her kidneys following the urinary tract infection she had at 7 weeks old. She's been on low level antibiotics ever since, and they are now doing final tests to establish whether her kidneys are damaged or not. Personally, I don't think they are, because if there was something seriously wrong with her I think I would know.

So I took a day off work and took her into hospital. As usual, there's nowhere to park so we park in a nearby street and walk for 20 minutes. We get there and she has to have a canula put in. I explain that her veins are hard to find and on the three previous occasions they have had to put the canula into her foot rather than her arm.

They put numbing cream on both her feet. Isabel screams, "I want mummy! I want to go home! I don't want the needle!"

Then we have to have the canula inserted. Isabel screams before we even start. She tries to hide her feet. She screeches that she wants to go home. I insist that she shuts her eyes and eventually the registrar manages to get the canula in. It is harrowing. They bandage up her foot.

We walk to the nuclear medicine department to have the radioactive isotopes put in. It is miles away, and halfway there Izzy can't manage anymore. I carry her. Have I mentioned she weighs 3 stones? By the time we get there I am dying.

They provide a wheelchair to push her round to the camera room. They ask her to go to the toilet, then strap her to a bed. They inject her with radioactive isotopes and tell her to lie absolutely still for 30 minutes while the camera continuously films. I provide chocolate rabbits and make up stories about Princess Isabel, Fairy Isabel and Mermaid Isabel continuously for 30 minutes.



Then they ask her to do a wee while they film it. I am like, "But you told her to go to the toilet!" They say, "OK, does she want a glass of water?" Isabel drinks the water, but can't do one. The nurse suggests we go to the cafe and come back when she needs a wee. We go to the cafe and I persuade/coerce/force Isabel to drink TWO Capri Suns. She comes back to the Nuclear Medicine ward, says, "I'm desperate for a wee!" then can't do one. We give her more water. I get her to run around. I press on her bladder. She sits on the makeshift toilet again... and does a gigantic dump. Sigh. The nurses dispose of it. We go outside where it's really cold, and she runs around some more. She drinks more water. We have been at the hospital for 4 and a half hours. The nurses explain she will have to come back and have a catheter and dye injected if she won't wee for the camera. I beg her to wee. I play "Lets pretend we are rabbits" and jump around the room with her.

She wees. Thank god.

We go home. Isabel complains she feels ill. Ten minutes later she comes into the kitchen and vomits copiously all over the kitchen floor. Her clothes, the floor, everything is soaked. I carry her up to the bathroom and put her in the bath.

When I come downstairs to clean up, I discover that the kitchen floor, which Mattgreen has been laying today, has not yet been grouted. Vomit has slithered down between the tiles, including blobs of food, and loads of wet, stinky vomit is between the tiles and the underlay. I clean up the vomit. Then I start lifting tiles, wiping up the vomit and then spraying the tiles with Dettox. I have to remove loads of the tiles that Mattgreen has spent all day laying.

Mattgreen comes home and is none to pleased about this. Here is a picture of him re-laying the tiles after the Vomit-a-thon.



What a nightmare.

One day we will look back on this and laugh. Maybe.