A sickie boy - update

On Wednesday night Rob and I went in to check on our sickie boy and discovered him lying in a pool of his own vomit. He was extremely pale and breathing funny, so we threw him in the car and drove over to the Royal Childrens Hospital.
Hanging out for hours in the emergency department of a childrens hospital is one of the more surreal experiences you can have.
Everyone in there is bleary-eyed and anxious. Children slump in their parents' arms while their pyjamed sisters and brothers play on the indoor playground.
While we tried to keep Ari calm (he threw up again at the reception desk, which prompted bustling scenes of mopping-up behind us), I tried to guess what was wrong with all the kids around me, all the while staring at the clock and hoping we wouldn't wait too long.
A boy next to us had something shoved up his nose. We listened to his squeals of pain as the nurses extracted it. Then he emerged looking as though nothing had happened. Kids are so resilient.
Everyone around you is tense, tired and worried. Rather wisely, the hospital has a nice lady who comes around to greet you and let you know how busy it is.
After a long wait, we were sent home again with our sick boy sucking on a gastrolyte icy pole. He has a bad case of gastro and has been weak and listless ever since. Between throwing up and diarrhoea, he's barely eaten anything in two days. We know he'll be alright, but at the moment Ari is a shadow of his usual self.