12th March, 2005 - 10:15 p.m.

"Childrens' Emergency, Lara speaking", I answered the advice line with a roll of the eyes. Bugger - I'd been the last to look busy when it began to ring. Having been there for over 18 months, I knew the rules - it was my turn to listen to the woes of the collective shallow gene pool of Brisbane.

(insert Inala accent, slightly slurred, for a full 5 minutes without a breath)

"Yeah, you're not the person I was talking to before; she was an old lady. She said she couldn't tell me any advice over the phone, but anyway, you're not her. Look, I have a boy; he's about 2 or 3, and you know monkey bars? Yeah, well he was on them today, and he, like, swung upwards. He didn't, like, fall off or anything - he kind of swung to 90 degrees and you know the part between your nose and your eyebrow? Yeah, he hit that. He didn't fall off, so I think he's okay, and since then he's been fine. He was like, "lets go walk the dog" and so we went for a walk around the neighbourhood. And, like, I've been telling him about some friends of mine who've hit their heads and died (laughs), and now he's being a sook and won't go to bed. He's like, afraid of dying while he's asleep. I think he's fine, you know, but I dont' know what else to do. I guess we'll just end up there anyway, if I he keeps whingeing. But like, I've had a few drinks so I can't drive there. I don't want to get done for drink-driving again, so, like, I'll have to call an ambulance. I've been trying to call my Mum, but my brother - he's got lots of problems, see, so he's in the P.A emergency at the moment. Mum's with him, 'cause of all his problems - he's in the PA emergency, so I can't get her to pick my boy up. I think he's okay, he's like, playing with the dog now. We went for a walk around the neighbourhood before. (interrupts - "Hey! What are you doing? Get the hell out of the house!") So, like, I've checked his eyes for 'reactivity-ness' and, like, they're all good, so he's okay. I've just told him all these stories of friends who've died from being hit on the head and he won't stop whingeing now. He's like, okay. He doesn't seem sick or anything. He only ate a bit of dinner, but that's, like, what he usually does. I don't know why he doesn't want to eat - I get him McDonalds and there's no worries but then I go and make him something proper and he doesn't eat it - how do you get a kid to eat? So, like, he hasn't chucked or anything, and like, I checked his eyes and I've asked him lots of questions and he seems fine. I haven't given him any panadol 'cause I don't want to mask the symptoms or whatever, and then I spoke to someone and she said something about not letting him go to sleep, so it's a couple of hours after his bedtime and I've kept him awake and he's pretty whingey but then he doesn't want to go to sleep anyway, so I guess we'll just end up in there anyway. His mum's in jail for the fourth time so I can't call her, so I guess I'll just have to call an ambulance. That's if he keeps whingeing at me. If he shuts up I guess he's fine and I won't worry but if he doesn't I guess I'll just come on up, so yeah...see ya."

And he hung up. It's the first time I've picked up that phone and not had to give the spiel about not being able to give advice over the phone - I didn't get to say one single word in the space of the entire phone 'conversation' - a term used lightly given there was no reciprocal words exchanged.

Ah, the joys of paediatric emergency!

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