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Well good grief, this week has been something of an emotional rollercoaster. It still is, in fact. But now in the 'yay, Alton Towers' way rather than 'ohh, the tracks are broken' way.
1/?
1/?
On Monday I got the call. Mum, once again, had been rushed to hospital. Not breathing. Six paramedics, air ambulance, the lot. Straight to ITU. Shit.
1/?
1/?
It was... it was not good. I'm not going into details, but it was very not good. Sedated, ventilated, stats were less than encouraging. And all this mere months after a similar incident. Doctors gently advised me to prepare for the worst.
1/?
1/?
Tuesday, same.
Wednesday, same. Slight improvement, but still largely bad times.
Thursday, same. Slightly better O2 stats and stuff, but that was about it.
Friday, same.
I was, as you can imagine, preparing for 'the call'. It's been a hellish, awful week of worry.
3/?
Wednesday, same. Slight improvement, but still largely bad times.
Thursday, same. Slightly better O2 stats and stuff, but that was about it.
Friday, same.
I was, as you can imagine, preparing for 'the call'. It's been a hellish, awful week of worry.
3/?
Oh, I should point out that she was also tested for Covid and came back... positive. GREAT STUFF. As such, I have not been able to see her. Not that I would have been anyway because of lockdown.
As such, it's been stressful, numb, surreal time. It's not felt at all real.
4/?
As such, it's been stressful, numb, surreal time. It's not felt at all real.
4/?
ANYWAY. I call this morning, again, as I have been doing. Today, they say, they hope to extubate. This is HUGELY promising. HOWEVER. We still didn't know if there was any brain damage, or if she would even cope without the ventilator despite what the lungs were saying.
5/?
5/?
I leave them to it - nothing else I can do - and call back this afternoon. Still wracked with worry and the stress and upset of wondering if I'll ever see my Mum again, I ask to speak to the nurse looking after her.
"Would you like to speak to your Mum?" she says to me.
6/?
"Would you like to speak to your Mum?" she says to me.
6/?
I was stunned. And then I heard her little voice. And then I knew I still had a mum. And, well, it's all a bit much. I needed to write it down to help process it all, hence this thread.
But yeah, I spoke to her. She's 'fine' all things considered. Still very ill, of course.
7/?
But yeah, I spoke to her. She's 'fine' all things considered. Still very ill, of course.
7/?
There's still some way to go, of course. She's still in ITU after all. But she's awake, she's still there. The thought of never having this phone call come was starting to creep in. It was frightening. I couldn't compute the idea of losing her.
8/?
8/?
So there we are. That's been my week. It's been quite something. And there is still a way to go. Mum has a lot of getting better to do. I'm still DESPERATE to see her. But shit, at least I can talk to her now.
Parents, eh? Who'd have them?
FIN.
Parents, eh? Who'd have them?
FIN.
