So, this blog is really a quick update from today's appointment at the hospital, where we met Megs most efficient and welcoming Congenital Heart Consultant.
We are as yet, still waiting to see the CSF Specialist Neurosurgeon at the Q.E., yes, I know, it has only been a year and probably 20 phone calls directly to his secretary to chase this (one of which was when she was in University Hospital with shunt issues, and no-one wanted to 'step on his toes!') I normally wouldn't mind, but seriously. How is it possible to step on someones toes if they haven't done anything in the first place? Anyway, I have written a very polite, but persistent letter to the Neurosurgeon, and copied in P.A.L.S - I wonder how long it will take for a reply......
The Heart Consultant will also write to the Neuro Surgeon, (and also the Private Heart Consultant we paid for earlier in the year) with the promise of 'some' relief regarding her tachycardia, down to a new drug that has been seen to improve symptoms, and wishes to see her again in four weeks to check everything is in place to make Meg's life a bit more comfortable.
We cannot wish for miracles, and every little bit helps!
In the waiting room, we were, as usual, privy to some very colourful characters, and both Meg and I discussed both the humorous and tragic situations that walked past us. From Purple Patsy, who was head-to-toe in every shade, pattern and fabric possible in purple, complete with carpet bag, to the 60 year old (at least) in a very short mini skirt, spotty high heeled shoes and mac (which was just skimming the 'hem' of her skirt), making the elderly gentleman I was sitting next to comment in good spirit -"...... no full length mirror in that house!"
We witnessed nurses, going about their shifts like busy bees, and a smattering of Hospital Management, usually in navy suits looking very important with killer heels and matching clip boards.
We had an obligatory hot chocolate, before she went to have her blood taken from the latest Buffy impersonator.
I usually reflect on the journey over to the hospital, but todays reflection came on the journey home. When I think back to the first horrendous throws of hospital life with a poorly child, I don't quite know how I did it. The stress and hysteria that escalates internally, can only be described as a blow torch igniting a nylon nightie, toxic and suffocating. You cannot bear to open up to anybody for fear of losing control of your emotions, which have to be suppressed like a magic flannel. It's a bit like trying to put a super-king size duvet in a tiny beaded purse, your grief is the duvet, the purse your brain and sanity. I realise only now, that as a mother I have DEFINATELY earned my title, and am very aware that although Meg will probably need my support for a while, I am no longer teetering on the edge of madness. The fog has cleared, and the view albeit patchy in places, is clearer than it has been for years. Things are fine. They aren't great, and they are absolutely not going to change but...
I am truly thankful to the support of my darling husband, Daisy, my gorgeous sister, my very best friends and extended Turner family, without whom I wouldn't be in the privileged and knowledgeable position that I found myself in today. Today I am going to change my ways.....I will no longer be looking after everybody else. It is a very practical and profound valuation that I am very EASY to ask, and one would like to think that if you really knew what a tight ship we have to dance on, you wouldn't. Therefore, it is with a brave heart and definite strength - I announce that unfortunately for everybody else, my girls and Craig and I, are going to come first.
*sighs and sits back from the Macbook*
It's about bloody time we booked to see the Northern Lights, the sky's clear enough to appreciate them now.
Thank you.
No comments:
Post a Comment