Four.
When they returned the next day, Christopher was inside an oxygen tent which they were told was nothing to worry about, a routine measure because he wouldn’t settle with the mask over his face.
From time to time Nurse Allitt popped in and out of Cubicle Two to check on Christopher who was being fed by tubes. When it was time to give him some medicine Creswen called in Nurse Allitt; she remembers the nurse telling her: ‘Why don’t you go for a drink, and a cigarette? He’s all right. He’s fast asleep. Don’t worry, I’ll look after him.’
Reassured, Creswen and Mick took a break. They were only gone ten minutes but, as they returned, Creswen saw the ‘crash team’ rushing to the ward. Instinctively, she knew it was Christopher. ‘Something clicked in my brain and I suddenly thought: “He’s dead.”’
The doctors and nurses were already beside Christopher’s bed when she looked inside Cubicle Two.
It was a horrifying sight, she said. ‘The oxygen tent had gone and he was laid on the bed, totally blue. His face was the colour of a nurse’s blue hat. They were trying to bring him back, but I thought he had gone. I knew what a dead baby looked like because I’d carried Michelle to the ambulance in my arms.’ The realisation of what was happening to her little boy was just too much for Creswen,who became hysterical, screaming to doctors: ‘Bring him back – don’t you dare let him die.’
It was Nurse Allitt who led Creswen from the room. Creswen remembers the nurse trying to comfort her. ‘She said, “Come on, he’s all right, they’re bringing him back. We’ll get you a cup of tea.” She took me to the tea room with her arm around me and she seemed ever so concerned.
‘They carried Christopher out, he was just limp, and they took him to the treatment room. Nurse Allitt came into the parents room where she told us: “Don’t worry, he’ll be all right. He’s in the best hands.”’
By mid-afternoon Christopher’s condition had stabilised and doctors said they were sure he was going to be all right. Creswen asked what had caused her son to stop breathing; she was told that sometimes children suffering from bronchiolitis had mild cardiac arrests. ‘We accepted what they told us.’
But then, suddenly at 8pm, it happened again. Christopher suffered another cardiac arrest and, this time, it was worse. The ‘crash team’ was doing its best, but Creswen feared it would not be enough. ‘We really thought we were losing him. The doctors and nurses mentioned we ought to get him christened, and we agreed.’
Creswen would never forget the scene. Hospital chaplain, the Rev. Shelton, was summoned again to the ward. A gentle man with a strong sense of faith, he had become a frequent visitor to the ward. The number of calls from the hospital had beenunusually high. In the space of a few months he had been summoned nine times to comfort parents on the ward, mostly in the middle of the night. Other ministers had answered two other calls.
He had tried to console Chris and Joanne Taylor after Liam’s death, and had conducted the funeral service at the crematorium on 1 March. He had also shared Peter and Sue Phillips’s grief and had buried Becky in his churchyard at Manthorpe on 10 April.
Now here he was, four days later, baptising little Christopher whose life was also threatened. It was all over in a matter of minutes. There was no time to choose godparents, only time to pray that Christopher had the strength to pull through. ‘Christopher was on the machines and there were tubes everywhere. We gave him the name Christopher William Stephen Peasgood.
‘The minister took two photographs of him just lying there. It was all so weird.’
It was decided that Christopher would have to be transferred to the Queen’s Medical Centre in Nottingham, but he was so ill that they were warned he might not survive the journey.
It was their decision but Creswen asked one of the nurses what she
When they returned the next day, Christopher was inside an oxygen tent which they were told was nothing to worry about, a routine measure because he wouldn’t settle with the mask over his face.
From time to time Nurse Allitt popped in and out of Cubicle Two to check on Christopher who was being fed by tubes. When it was time to give him some medicine Creswen called in Nurse Allitt; she remembers the nurse telling her: ‘Why don’t you go for a drink, and a cigarette? He’s all right. He’s fast asleep. Don’t worry, I’ll look after him.’
Reassured, Creswen and Mick took a break. They were only gone ten minutes but, as they returned, Creswen saw the ‘crash team’ rushing to the ward. Instinctively, she knew it was Christopher. ‘Something clicked in my brain and I suddenly thought: “He’s dead.”’
The doctors and nurses were already beside Christopher’s bed when she looked inside Cubicle Two.
It was a horrifying sight, she said. ‘The oxygen tent had gone and he was laid on the bed, totally blue. His face was the colour of a nurse’s blue hat. They were trying to bring him back, but I thought he had gone. I knew what a dead baby looked like because I’d carried Michelle to the ambulance in my arms.’ The realisation of what was happening to her little boy was just too much for Creswen,who became hysterical, screaming to doctors: ‘Bring him back – don’t you dare let him die.’
It was Nurse Allitt who led Creswen from the room. Creswen remembers the nurse trying to comfort her. ‘She said, “Come on, he’s all right, they’re bringing him back. We’ll get you a cup of tea.” She took me to the tea room with her arm around me and she seemed ever so concerned.
‘They carried Christopher out, he was just limp, and they took him to the treatment room. Nurse Allitt came into the parents room where she told us: “Don’t worry, he’ll be all right. He’s in the best hands.”’
By mid-afternoon Christopher’s condition had stabilised and doctors said they were sure he was going to be all right. Creswen asked what had caused her son to stop breathing; she was told that sometimes children suffering from bronchiolitis had mild cardiac arrests. ‘We accepted what they told us.’
But then, suddenly at 8pm, it happened again. Christopher suffered another cardiac arrest and, this time, it was worse. The ‘crash team’ was doing its best, but Creswen feared it would not be enough. ‘We really thought we were losing him. The doctors and nurses mentioned we ought to get him christened, and we agreed.’
Creswen would never forget the scene. Hospital chaplain, the Rev. Shelton, was summoned again to the ward. A gentle man with a strong sense of faith, he had become a frequent visitor to the ward. The number of calls from the hospital had beenunusually high. In the space of a few months he had been summoned nine times to comfort parents on the ward, mostly in the middle of the night. Other ministers had answered two other calls.
He had tried to console Chris and Joanne Taylor after Liam’s death, and had conducted the funeral service at the crematorium on 1 March. He had also shared Peter and Sue Phillips’s grief and had buried Becky in his churchyard at Manthorpe on 10 April.
Now here he was, four days later, baptising little Christopher whose life was also threatened. It was all over in a matter of minutes. There was no time to choose godparents, only time to pray that Christopher had the strength to pull through. ‘Christopher was on the machines and there were tubes everywhere. We gave him the name Christopher William Stephen Peasgood.
‘The minister took two photographs of him just lying there. It was all so weird.’
It was decided that Christopher would have to be transferred to the Queen’s Medical Centre in Nottingham, but he was so ill that they were warned he might not survive the journey.
It was their decision but Creswen asked one of the nurses what she
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