Bugger it, I’ve not blogged for two whole months! You must have missed me terribly darlings. (Please just humour me and nod…) February and March have passed me by in a haze of near death experiences, concussions and surprises through the post (more to come on that soon...ooh I'm a tease! :p), so I have lacked on the blog front. It does mean, however, that I have a tasty chunk of brain fodder for you to sink your teeth into.
Yum:
So, near death experiences. Momma has spent the last 10 weeks in absolute agony with her back. She has three bulging discs that are pressing on her spinal cord. The nerve that controls leg movement and bladder control has been severely compromised so she’s struggling to keep on her feet at all. Next time I find her on the floor in a puddle of her own piss at least there’s a medical term for it… Due the intense amount of pain she was in, mum babes was prescribed some weird and wonderful pills to take the edge off. Unfortunately the tablets not only reduced her pain, but also her responsiveness and reactions. She’d taken her second dose of the day, gone upstairs for a nap and when I went to check on her an hour later, she was unconscious.
She was probably dreaming about this:
Whilst I was feeling like this:
Now, I can’t speak for everyone who has found themselves in this situation but I’ll say that, for me, it was fucking terrifying. There’s a split second where everything is blank. You know in the movies when it all goes into slow motion? Your own voice sounds like Darth Vader’s, you’re as sober as a judge but you feel like you’ve swallowed a ton of something illegal? All I could think was “Shit, shit. What am I supposed to do? Who’s coming to tell me what to do?” And as soon as the feeling comes, it’s gone again; your sensible subconscious gives you a kick up the arse and cool, calm and collected ‘you’ reigns.
I called an ambulance, obviously, and she was rushed to hospital with blue lights flashing and sirens wailing. God that woman knows how to make an entrance. I sorted out care for Katie, jumped into a taxi and raced to the hospital. I actually said to the driver: “Step on it!” Told you it was like a movie…
When I arrived I was ushered into the ‘Relative’s Room’ by a nurse who told me that the doctor would need to speak to me. Now, I’ve been in that situation once before when momma didn’t come round from an anaesthetic. There are no words to describe that empty ache in your stomach, like your whole world is about to fall from under you and all you have to console you in that dark little room is a Chaplaincy leaflet and a battered bible that has been leafed through more times than Hugh Hefner’s copy of the Karma Sutra. I’m not at all religious but it is in these situations that I find myself beginning to bargain with ‘God’. “Please don’t take my mummy away from me, I’ll do anything. Anything!” I get a little delirious and begin to make bizarre offers of exchange: “Make all of my hair fall out!” “Turn me into a toad!” “Make me grow a beard!” I kid you not; sometimes you just can’t control the shit that gushes out of your mouth in times of duress.
The doctor finally came into me to say that momma had suffered a severe allergic reaction to her painkiller and had two incredibly close calls, nearly losing her life both in the ambulance and again in resus. She was barely stable and the next 12 hours were crucial. It was then that I thought the Relative’s Room could really benefit from a mini bar… I’d have raided the whole thing and still have needed more.
She made it through the night and I didn’t grow a beard, nor did any part of my body gain amphibian qualities. (Have I pulled the wool over God’s eyes?!) It was a tense week that followed but she was incredibly well looked after by the intensive care unit at George Eliot Hospital. She’s awaiting spinal surgery and we’ve made sure that those demon tablets don’t come anyway near her again so it’s just a matter of keeping her comfortable until she gets sorted out.
You’d think that was the end of the drama for two months but no. I swear we go through absolute shite just so I can write about it for your entertainment! You’d all better be bloody grateful. ;) I suffered two concussions. Yeah you heard, two! I am a ridiculous klutz. The first one was due to me tripping over my own feet and falling head first into a wall and the second was caused by a suitcase. I don’t even know how it happened and I’m not going to attempt to explain. So that was two A&E visits for lil old me!
Concussion #1 - Rocking the neck brace, no?!
Then just last week I was admitted into hospital as I had a pretty bad issue with my heart. I had surgery when I was 11 to correct an abnormality and I’ve suffered with it ever since. C’mon, get your violins going…that’s it! I happened to pick up that nasty norovirus that’s doing the rounds too. (That’s the ‘winter virus’. The one where awful stuff comes out of your two main orifices…) I don’t know, you go into hospital with something relatively simple and come out dead! Ah, I know I’m overreacting ever so slightly but it’s hard to stay realistic when the whole world is falling out of your arse… Ugh!
Anyway, we all seem to be as well as can be at the moment but no doubt something’s going to go tits up soon and I’ll be blogging about a hilarious incident involving a blob of shit and some sort of vodka induced sickness…
Happy Easter by the way..!
Love,
Amy x
