Everybody’s Talking About Jamie

This was our Jamie shortly after he arrived home from the Leeds General Infirmary (LGI) last night.

He'd been there since Tuesday and you might notice that he's a bit puffy-faced.

But he had been much worse.

Yes, the boy's had an absolute shocker.

Briefly, he felt ill on Sunday, woke up with a fever on Monday and we took him straight to the drop-in session at the local GP surgery.  We waited for an hour and a half and his right eye began to close.

A trip to the LGI followed, after which he was sent home with some oral antibiotics. 

By Tuesday morning, the situation has worsened considerably.  By lunchtime, he was on a ward and hooked up to a drip.

There are no complaints from us about any of that. The medical staff dealt with the situation as they found it.

Next, he was whisked off for a CT scan.  The consultants had decided by this stage that he'd developed an abscess near his eye, hence the swelling.  However, they wanted to be sure that it wasn't behind the eye itself, which would be much more serious and probably require surgery.

The scan results came back that evening.  And guess what?  It was behind the eye.  F***.

Cue quadruple strength antibiotics and not a little worry for his mum, dad, sister and other family members.

Miraculously, by the following morning, the situation had improved beyond all expectations.  Surgery was initially delayed and then no longer deemed necessary.

A family visit followed at teatime on Wednesday and he was released 24 hours later with enough drugs to stun a stallion. 
                  

Thanks to all of Jamie's friends, Vanessa's friends and my friends who knew what was going on and were kind beyond description. 

You know who you are and we love you all.

Reassured after Wednesday's visit, Charlotte went to Brownies and returned home with a piece of dough.  It wasn't cooked, shaped or wanted and quickly landed in the bin.  But it gave her and me a laugh while her mum and brother had another sleepover at the hospital. 

The sole White family member with other things on her mind this week was Cleo the Cat whose ego and paw remains bruised after Luna the Hamster bit her.

Since then, Luna appears to have grown both in size and stature.  Cleo's stomach for the fight has gone the other way.

Hopefully next week will be less dramatic for all of us. 

It ain't over until the fat duck sings

Good day to you and, while I'm at it, a belated Happy New Year.

I haven't updated this drivel since November but I have a bit of time on my hands today and thought I might as well use it unwisely.  (I'm also watching Donald Trump's impeachment trial because I'm a sad man).

Since my last post, Cleocatra has had her baby oven removed and won't ever have the chance to become a yummy mummy or dirty stop out. (The fact that she's sticking her tongue out at me tells you what she thinks about that).

As soon as her fur has grown back, we can all put the whole episode behind us. 

We'll also let her off the lead and allow her to meet boy cats who don't want children.

Talking of children, Charlotte has had her ninth birthday.

Yup, next up for our little girl is double figures.  (I know, I know - I don't look old enough to have a daughter of that age).

We've had Christmas (hopefully you did too).

We went back to Norn Iron for New Year.

Whilst there, we even went outside. 

But inside was very much a favourite for me.

And for her.

Other than work, which I've done a lot of up to, through and since Christmas (which is a positive when you're self-employed), the other major happening in my life is The Masked Singer.

It is surely, in equal measure, the best and worst programme in the history of television.

So much so that I can barely contain my excitement before finding out who goes tonight.

I reckon it's a toss up between John Cleese, Jeremy Corbyn and Meghan Markle. 

Or maybe Kate Winslet. 

Or Buzz Aldrin. 

Or Clare Balding. 

Or Boris Becker.   

Or Greta Thunberg.

7pm.  ITV.  Be there.  (I might be early).