Worrying news

Dad rings first thing and I know that means something is wrong.

His phone call yesterday afternoon and my subsequent conversation with mum, forewarned me that she’d gone majorly downhill since I left, but today things have taken a serious turn for the worse. Almost complete shutdown.

Dad and I are both in tears and I take on the job of trying to hold it together enough to ring my brother.

The doctor calls mid-afternoon and Mum, unable to speak, move or even really open her eyes for long, is admitted to hospital.

This is bad.

But there is also much to be grateful for. Mum’s GP was on leave, so we were expecting someone else from the practice. However, her doc happened to pop into the surgery, heard about Mum and took over the home visit on her day off. Accordingly Mum is seen by someone who knows the history and shows concern and care for both Mum and Dad above and beyond the call of duty. Not many GPs would I guess have given Dad their home phone number and insisted he rang later to let her know what happened.

A cracking letter from her and some judicious making of phone calls and we even manage to get Mum a bed and consultant in a small private hospital (we’ll worry about the cost later) rather than the big local monstrosity that would truly freak Mum out right now. I know I morally disagree with private health care, but when it comes to my mother I’ll happily confess to being a complete hypocrite.

She also got what is supposed to be the very best consultant at this stage and his early diagnosis is that what is going on is an acute episode of existing problems and nothing new and whilst we’re looking at a long road to recovery, it should be treatable and there is a road back.

It’s an emotional roller-coaster right now.

With my mind elsewhere I fear my hostess skills are left somewhat lacking.