Sickness

I don’t know about other parents but I’ve never gotten used to my kids being sick. It’s something which always causes fear and tension in me. Lots of people told me many things before I had kids, as I’ve said before, but no one really talked about the sickness. If they did it was usually in a “you don’t know what you’re in for” kind of way. It was always, something along the lines of “hope you’re ready to clean up another person’s barf, har har”. No one really mentioned the arse puckering terror of seeing your child’s temperature rocket to 40 degrees celcius. Incidentally if it stays at that temperature for too long it can cause neurological damage. A fun fact I picked up now I’m a parent with access to the internet. 

Whenever my kids get sick my mind will generally go plunging down the anxiety inducing worst case scenario thought track, like a Mack truck with broken brakes plunging into a ravine, there’s little I can do to stop it. The internet only makes things worse. We’ve all Googled symptoms of an illness we’ve had, and we’ve all been terrified to find we have Cancer, Ebola, sudden terminal onset low libido, menopause or just DEATH; and not excema like we thought it might be. 

I TOLD YOU IT WASN'T MAN FLU!!

We all do it, it seems to be a human trait, how many of you watched Still Alice recently then went and told all your friends you for sure had Alzheimer’s? When my daughter recently came down with something it was the weekend, the doctor’s office was closed and we didn’t want to fork out several thousand dollars for an on call doctor. So I consulted The Oracle of all things, Dr. Google. This was, as it always is, a mistake. My daughter had a fever, pink cheeks, a body rash and a cough. Go ahead and Google that. I had a choice of 25 different illnesses to choose from on WebMD, as though it was a sickness combo menu. This was provided I ignored the other results saying it could be 1 of over 100 things, I was after all trying to narrow it down a bit. Of those 25 things the scariest were meningitis, MRSA, and Rotavirus, all of which can be extremely dangerous or potentially fatal. Fortunately I figured it probably wasn’t any of those things, and was more likely Scarlet Fever which was also a choice on the sickness menu. Turns out Scarlet Fever isn’t just something which happened in the 1800s, there’s been a resurgence recently. Another fun fact I recently found out, it’s estimated that about 60% of Staph A strains causing Scarlet Fever here in HK are drug resistant to a particular kind of antibiotic, though fortunately there are alternatives which are effective.

My wife and I recently had a casual discussion about our family’s general health over the past 5 years. We realised that each one of us has been in hospital in that time. Sher wins with the most visits; 3 for babies and 2 for health related surgeries. Carys has 1 surgery to her name, an adenoidectomy which has helped her health somewhat. Benny has been admitted once for a mystery viral illness; he was hooked up to an IV, given fever meds, and antibiotics, after a few days he was released. I’ve been admitted to hospital with a mystery respiratory illness which affected my ability to breathe, caused a constant fever and general lethargicness. I had 3 different types of antibiotics, was hospitalised for a week, and it still didn’t go away. We’re not sure why it did eventually go, but I think it’s because I had osteopathy which helped open up my chest, literally because my lung had partially collapsed with the bacterial infection sitting in the collapsed part. Sher was NOT happy about that one. 

So between the 4 of us, we’ve had 7 hospitalisations over 5 years. This is both a testament to the availability of health care here in HK (THANKS Obama...no wait), and a testament to just how sick we’ve been. We can’t even begin to count the number of times we’ve been to the doctor. Carys has quite frequent illnesses, and we think it’s largely due to the pollution here. It’s almost always a respiratory illness. She’s had a postnasal drip since...forever so she’s pretty full of phlegm. From the age of 2 she’s had weekly, if not daily doses of Piriton or Aleve, both medications to stop anti-histamine responses. She seems to be quite sensitive to the air, no joke, she tells us the air is bothering her. When the pollution is high it bothers her nose so much that she’ll be in tears about it. She tells us her nose bugs her and will rub so vigorously at it that she causes a nose bleed. Some mornings we walk into her room and her bed is like the scene of a brutal murder, there’s blood smeared everywhere. Some nights she’ll wake us crying because her nose is so itchy she can’t sleep. That’s with air filters going all the time. We don’t think it’s allergies, it’s year round and when we travel overseas we haven’t had to medicate her. I’m deeply worried about the effects of frequently medicating her will have on her long term health. Similarly, I’m worried Benny will have the same issues. 

A while ago we stopped asking why we were all getting sick. The answers were pretty clear to us; first and foremost for Sher and I it was probably stress about almost everything including but not limited to, money, work, sickness, and money. Next it’s because we live in what one of our doctors called a petri dish. Discovery Bay is a bit of a closed system in some ways. Kids generally don’t leave the island for any reason, all their friends are here, they live here, many go to school here. We can shop here, see the doctor, dentist, go to the gym, swim, eat out, all within a 10-20 minute walk of our homes or a 5 minute bus ride. Once an illness gets into the system it does the rounds, hitting many, many people. It’s difficult to avoid these illnesses because you’re in contact with the same people, the same objects, every single day. This is doubly true for our kids who have a small number of play areas to use here; once one kid smears his boggers over the climbing frame dozens of kids will come into contact with it in a short space of time. Not all parents are vigilant about their child’s health, outsourcing this responsibility to their helper either by choice or necessity (the work culture in HK is insane and toxic in itself, with people expected to stay in their offices until 8pm or usually later, as well as working weekends. It’s just an accepted part of living and working here.). As a result you have kids whose faces are caked in snot running around outside, hacking their wee lungs up, sneezing on every surface including your face and generally spreading whatever nasty bug they have to others.

A final reason we figure we’re all sick frequently, and it’s the one that bothers us the most, is the pollution. It’s been clearly proven that high levels of pollution have been linked with increases in respiratory illness among other illnesses. Here in HK the levels of pollution are high on an almost daily basis, though the government uses standards and benchmarks which are decades out of date which results in their measurements showing pollution levels to be low or moderate. If they used the updated standards we’d see the levels are hundreds of times higher, and thus hundreds of times more toxic. In my lifetime, Hong Kong has gone from a highly desirable location to live and work, to a hardship posting requiring added incentives to get people over here. Despite this the government has no interest in changing things. 

An average to bad day in HK, courtesy of:
http://www.strippedpixel.com/hong-kong-air-pollution/

So, the question for us became how can we stop the sickness. The answer we came up with was simply to leave HK. If it is the pollution, the closed system we live in and the stress linked to living here then it’s time to get the hell out. We can’t in good conscience stay here if it’s costing us our most valuable asset, our health and the health of our kids. Personally, I’m fucking tired of living in fear of my kids coming down with some illness AGAIN, because that means another trip to the doctor, more drugs, possibly another hospital visit. I’m just tired. And I’m angry, I mean thoroughly pissed off like I want to kick the living crap out of someone because the place I live may be causing my family to become ill. I’m angry that the government doesn’t seem to be living up to it’s responsibilities of safe guarding people and tackling the source of so much illness, choosing instead to treat the symptoms. The health care here is great, but I’m tired of having to rely on it on a near monthly basis. I’m also scared that one day the sickness one my family members has will be one of the terrifying Google results. 

At the end of the day, sickness is going to be a part of our lives no matter what. Where you have sick kids, usually you get sick adults too. Kids need to build their immunity so I won’t stop ours from playing in the dirt or socialising with other kids. However, we have the choice to live in a place which supports my family’s overall wellness. It’s a luxury many others don’t have. I reached the point where I couldn’t make up excuses for living here anymore. There are many good reasons to live in Hong Kong, but they aren’t good enough for us anymore. The pros no longer outweigh the cons. We have the luxury of choosing to live somewhere else for the wellbeing of our family and while there are no guarantees being in a new country will be better for us, we’re pretty sure it will do. So we’ve made that choice and are leaving. Sickness can kiss my sweet ass as I walk out the door.

Benny Boo!

It's been 113 days since our second baby arrived so I figured it's high time I wrote about it; thus avoiding accusations later on in life that I love Carys more because I wrote about her birth and not his, but also because the experience was totally different to both our other ones.

Zen Master At Work

Once again it was a scheduled event, we knew right from the start that Sher would be having a C-Section. The fibroids which got in the way of the first pregnancy and birth hadn't magically disappeared, thankfully they hadn't grown either. So we knew there was no way Sher would have a natural birth, it was physically impossible not to mention highly dangerous. Try telling that to the hospital staff at QMH who carried on talking about a natural birth right up until a week or two before the delivery date. Incidentally Sher really, REALLY worked hard to be calm and good natured at the antenatal appointments this time around. There was lots of deep breathing and one word answers. If you know my wife at all, you'll know her tolerance for stupidity, in-the-box thinking or plain laziness is....low. If you put her tolerance or patience for those things on a scale of 1 to 10; 1 being none at all, 10 being a Zen-like mastery of calm and control; Sher would be about about a 1 when not pregnant. When carrying a 7 pound baby inside of her, with a constant need to pee, nausea, hunger, an hour worth of travelling, 90% humidity and 30 degree heat outside, her tolerance drops substantially into the negative. In this way I'm sure she's a lot like most women when they're pregnant. It's always slightly fun to see the startled, deer in a headlights look the staff at the hospital get when she explodes because they've asked her for the 10th time whether she smokes or drinks, or when her last check-up was. I do want to reach across and gently point out the answers to their questions, found on the first page of Sher's file which is often sitting in their lap. Ask a stupid question, piss of a heavily pregnant white woman.

The End

I've been meaning to write about the termination for many months now. I left off with us coming home after a fruitless day in the hospital. Well we went back the next day and finished what should have been started the day before. The small details elude me now, so much has happened in the months since; the important moments remain though.

We arrived and Sher was promptly checked-in to the maternity ward. She was given a bed in a corner of the ward and we soon realised the beds in that particular section of the ward were exclusively for ladies having terminations. It was by far the quietest part of the ward. It wasn't shielded in any way from the rest of the ward so we were surrounded by babies and Mums. It wasn't awful, certainly not for me as I was more focused on Sher, but I can see that it might bother others in our situation.

Sher was given the first dose of medication quite quickly so we settled in to wait. I was really hoping it would all be over by the end of the day, the doctors told us that it usually takes 3-4 doses of the medication before a termination is complete. Unfortunately this didn't happen for us, it took much longer. Having said this, her contractions started incredibly quickly. She was in a hell of a lot of pain but was only given panadol, until she made the nurses realise she needed something stronger. They gave her a shot of pethidine in her bum. Very shortly after that they wheeled her into the labour room because the pain was so intense. Thankfully I got to accompany her.

The next few hours were exhausting for me, but obviously more so for Sher. For the most part I felt useless. I couldn't do anything to help Sher except be there as support. I tried holding her hand or rubbing her back but this was too much sensory input for Sher, on top of the labour pains. So I sat next to the bed and watched. It's a horrible thing to have to sit and watch someone you love going through something so painful and not be able to help in any way. Nothing I could do or say would make things better, or make Sher's 'job' there any more pleasant. Sher had multiple doses of the medication but all she experienced was more labour pain. This continued on into the early hours of the morning, at which point Sher had been given the maximum amount of medication allowable within 24 hours. We would have to wait until morning before they gave her any further doses.

As it turned out though, no further doses were necessary. In the morning Sher needed to go to the bathroom, for the first time in hours. The nurses weren't on hand at the time and Sher was pretty mobile so she took herself off, back onto the prenatal ward, to use the bathroom there. I stayed in our little labour room. I wasn't aware of anything happening outside, the labour ward is separated from the maternity ward by 2 sets of double doors and a corridor, so it was next to impossible to hear any noise emanating from the maternity ward. Having said that though, I did hear a vague bit of shouting in Cantonese but thought nothing of it. Sher was gone for probably 5 minutes, not terribly long, if you've ever had a girlfriend you'll know 5 minutes in the bathroom for a lady is NOT a lot of time. But when Sher was wheeled back to our room in a wheelchair my man brain did go ping!, and I knew something must have happened. I don't remember what Sher said, "It's done" or "It's out". She had delivered the baby in the bathroom. I'm not going to go into a whole lot of detail, that's her story to tell (here if you're interested http://bit.ly/12IuaeC) all I will say is that it was awful, compounded by the near deafening shouts of the nurses on the ward after she came out to show them she had 'delivered'. Why they would react by yelling at one another instead of calmly taking Sher back to her room, quietly asking her a few questions and allowing her to rest after what was probably the worst shock of her life, I'll never know. It's one of those cultural disconnects that happen here in HK, I truly hate it; otherwise intelligent and kinds people can turn into loud, unthinking, insensitive, fools.

They put Sher back in her bed, and called me over behind a curtain. I didn't mention earlier that there was a little basket in the corner of the room, next to the door. Honestly it was a bread basket, but they had put a little blanket inside, turning the bread basket into a dolls bed. I knew, from the moment I saw that little dolls bed, what it was going to be used for. So I wasn't surprised when I came around the curtain and saw the dolls bed was occupied. They had placed our little baby into the basket, having cleaned him off a bit. It was a shock to see him. It was totally evident that he wouldn't have lived had he been born full term. His wee body (no more than 2 inches long) was terribly broken and deformed. They gave me a minute with him. I can't remember if I said anything or did anything except stare. It was quiet and peaceful, and I knew beyond any doubt we had done the right thing. Bringing that boy into the world full term would have been horrifically cruel, to him and us. The nurses confirmed that we wanted an autopsy performed and that we wouldn't get his body back afterwards as there just isn't enough of it after the autopsy. That was all expected and we agreed. They took a photo of him before taking him away and that's the last ever I saw of him.

I'd like to say that was the end of the whole process, that we were able to go home and be with our lovely Carys, that the ordeal was over and we lived happily ever after. Unfortunately not. Once again the system was there, ready to fuck us over. Or rather fuck up my wife. We expecting some waiting around, and sure enough we had to wait several hours before Sher was released; a sensible precaution considering she had just gone through child birth. Before being released the doctor saw us, and prescribed some pain meds for Sher, told her to expect further bleeding and that she might, possibly, pass some of her placenta in the next few days as they couldn't confirm she had already passed it all. This led Sher, quite logically, to ask if she needed antibiotics. The doctor said no. She said no. I repeat that because it's stupid, and because it would come back as a serious problem. If I told you there was tissue that was slowly dying inside of you, wouldn't you expect some form of treatment to avoid say....an infection? As a doctor wouldn't it be best practice to limit your patient's exposure to post procedure infection? This doctor didn't seem to think so. So we walked out trusting this woman's opinion. Within about 2 days we were back in our doctor's office because Sher was SURPRISE! experiencing serious abdominal pain and bleeding. The doctor was very surprised Sher wasn't on antibiotics, so we walked away with a bag full which had to be topped up later on.

We got back to normal quite quickly, but what Sher and I realise now is that we were just ignoring how we felt. Neither of us were alright, we were both incredibly sad. There's a lot of guilt wrapped up in terminating a pregnancy, not to mention finding out your baby has genetic defects. You immediately begin to question everything you did before you knew the pregnancy even existed. You wonder if it's something you did, physically or spiritually, that made this happen. You blame yourself. None of that stops after the termination. It went on and on for me in the months afterwards, I just wasn't fully conscious of it. I could rationalise arguments absolving Sher and I of any blame, but it didn't matter. There's nothing rational about losing a baby. It would take many months for us to realise this and deal with it. The whole experience was heart wrenching and anger inducing for the multiple examples of callous ineptitude. I wouldn't wish it on anyone, and I'm so grateful to the people in my life who were so supportive and kind. That's all anyone can ever be, and that's all I ever wanted. Thank you so much for your friendship. It means the world to me and to Sher.

I'd like to say we're both past it, that's it's over and we've moved on but, personally speaking there's a part of me that's always going to be stuck in that time and place. It will always be a part of who I am. I sometimes think about Devon and it makes me incredibly sad, I miss him. The difference is now I'm not sad all the time, I don't think about it all the time, it's a part of my story.

There is one other huge difference and his name is Benedict who arrived 1 year later. He's an incredibly cute, chubby baby boy. He isn't a replacement, he was a surprise, and he is happiness incarnate. Sometimes you get just what you need, and we really needed a wee baby boy in our lives. I love him to the moon and I'm so grateful to have him in my life.

Hurry Up & Wait (The REDUX)

Yesterday was supposed to be the end for our second pregnancy. We were supposed to be in hospital for the day, with Sher receiving medication at regular intervals to prompt what is essentially an induced miscarriage. Instead we spent 7 and a half hours waiting for a doctor to see Sher. 

Yesterday was a good day up until hour 7, at which point both Sher and I had a sense of humour failure. We cracked jokes most of the day (the nurses and doctors all use the word poo-poo instead of stool, or any other derivative. Makes you feel like you're in kindie again.), played Words With Friends  (which is a battery hog!) and generally made the best of an ugly situation. The nursing staff here at Queen Mary are lovely. They are attentive and sensitive, well aware of why we are here. When they changed shifts the new nurse responsible for Sher's section of the ward came out to find Sher and make sure she was "safe". Truly lovely. I have very few complaints because Sher was with me pretty much the whole day!

But the doctor. Oh the doctor. After 7 and a half hours you'd think she'd approach us with a bit more caution. She didn't introduce herself, instead she launched into an apology for not coming earlier because she had an emergency C-section, and she wasn't aware of Sher's case. This neither of us can understand. Emergency C-section no problem, I understand, though how it took 7 hours I can't fathom. But that she wasn't aware of Sher's case when there are only a handful of patients on the ward, 5 nurses to inform her, a massive file full of information - that's no excuse, that's either a systemic failure or carelessness. What the hell was she doing for all that time?! She made a bad situation worse by calling the procedure an abortion. I know this may seem nitpicky, but that's not what we're here for. To me, an abortion is something you have when you don't want a baby because you want to focus on your career, you made a mistake or you just plain don't want a baby (these are just examples, it's not for me to judge people's reasons here). We are here to prevent the suffering of our baby and ourselves. This isn't an abortion. The lack of tact or emotional intelligence on the part of the doctor was really quite staggering. At this point Sher yelled at the doctor. Literally yelled at her. The doctor was pretty shocked. This isn't how people react in Hong Kong, normally they will accept things quietly without comment. Sher demanded the doctor go and get me, which she did but only because Sher stopped talking to her. Well played love.

I heard all this secondhand as I was obviously outside the ward when it happened, as is the norm in Hong Kong. Husbands are unwelcome on the maternity ward because, you know we'd all run around checking out the pregnant ladies bewbs as they breast fed. Being born and raised in HK I understand  and accept quite a lot about the local Chinese culture. Many things that perplex or annoy many westerners here don't phase me, they are things I just accept as being part of HK life. But there are some elements of the culture which I just don't understand and can't accept. The treatment of pregnant women is one of them. I see so many local ladies behaving as if they are broken. They shuffle around, never picking up their feet, leaning heavily on their husbands. They wear insanely thick jackets to stay warm, despite it being stifling inside. They lie in bed with their baby screaming next to them and don't even try to move or help it, instead they wait...and wait for the nurse. They speak in whiny, pleading little voices even when they aren't in labor. And their husbands aren't allowed near them for most of their stay in the hospital because they don't want other, strange men around them. This isn't a security issue as it may be in other countries, it's over sensitivity. I just don't understand it. This isn't me saying I don't get what all the fuss is about labor or childbirth, I fully recognise it's incredibly painful - more than I could ever take. I just can't stand, really can't stand the pathetic almost girlish behaviour of so many of the women here. They have every right to show pain, to want or need help, but they aren't helpless they are grown women with jobs, responsibilities and language skills, yet the act as though they are 5. They don't ask for help, they use limp body language to show it, which just adds to the overall sense of helpless childishness. I can't stand it because it's behaviour I would never want to see in my daughter or any other woman. It puts them in a position of weakness, when they are in a position of absolute power. They are in the process of, or have had a baby. They get whatever they want. They just have to ask for it, or even yell for it. Instead so many of these women behave as though they are half dead and incapable of anything, let alone making decisions. It's your pregnancy, your labor, your child - you decide! I have been surrounded by strong, successful and independent women my whole life. No surprise that I married one too.  This has instilled in me an unfailing respect for the strength, intelligence and power of women. But just because a woman is strong, independent, or successful doesn't mean they aren't sensitive and vulnerable too, the difference is they can communicate it in a mature (though it's not always clear if you're a man) way. I have such respect for women, and high expectations of them, I feel terribly disappointed and annoyed when I see them falling into the role of a 50s housewife, or helpless princess. This ward is filled with princesses.

Anyway, I digress. The doctor was clearly still shell shocked when she began to speak with me. Sher had packed her bags by the time I got to her bed, we knew we were leaving. The doctor told us it was too late to administer the drug, if they did Sher would be in labor all night which would be too exhausting. She asked us to come back the next day and we would do the procedure then. She tried asking us a few more questions, - did we want to see the baby after the termination, did we want an autopsy performed, would it be alright if the government incinerated (yes she used that word) body, because if they did there wouldn't be any ashes left over. While I'm sure part of this was down to a language barrier, there's another dimension - she should know how to communicate with patients, she should know what language to use. You don't tell someone you're going to incinerate their baby. We were done. We just wanted to get home and see our baby. So that's how the day ended. We both had a nice drink on the ferry on the way home, smooched Carys when we got home and had great sleep in our own bed. It was a good day yesterday, it had just worn thin by the end of it. We went in expecting a rough day ending in something really quite terrible. The fact that it didn't happen was both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand we want this to be over so we can begin to mourn and move on, on the other hand if that happens it means the pregnancy is really over which is just horrible. Damned if we do, damned if we don't.

So we're back at QM again today. I'm writing this from the waiting area outside the ward. Happily nurse Stephanie is still on duty this morning and is being lovely to Sher. They administered the medication within half an hour of us arriving and Sher is already starting to feel stirrings. Incidentally, the medication they use here in HK is called Misoprostol. It is actually an ulcer preventative, at least that's what it was developed and marketed as. Outside the U.S. it's used to induce labor, abortions and terminations. Unfortunately it has lots of side effects which aren't fun. Still, we're both happy that we're on our way now but we're both scared too. Fingers crossed this will be over soon and Sher has a quick recovery.