Anita’s son and I found ourselves sitting in the car in the hospital car park after dropping Anita off at the A&E department again early yesterday morning.
We hope it isn’t anything to do with the virus or her heart this time, but the terrible pain Anita has been suffering for the last few days must mean something is wrong. When she couldn’t keep the pain meds down, we knew it was time to bring her back to the hospital, whether she liked it or not.
I have been meaning to post an update on Anita’s health, as she is far from being out of the woods. I have been waiting to see where we were heading, but she has been getting progressively weaker these past few weeks and so breathless. I have tried suggesting
nagging that she get checked out several times, only to get my head chewed off.
While we await the verdict (we are still not allowed to go into the hospital), and to stop myself from screaming in frustration, I have been people-watching.
It is seven o clock in the morning, so not many people about, but of the few I have seen, most are in pyjamas.
I haven’t people watched for a long time, something I loved to do when I was younger. I have to try and imagine what their story is. I haven’t done it in a hospital car park before, so probably not the best place to do it.
Like the young couple that have just appeared, the woman clearly in pain with her hand pressed to her lower spine. Her husband, brother or boyfriend helps her to the door but like us, he must stay outside, and I watch his distress at being unable to be with her.
A short, chubby woman diverts my attention in bright pink pyjamas, and pom-pom slippers, clearly agitated about something. It turned out she wanted someone to take a packet of tobacco into the hospital. Failing to find anyone willing to do this, she stomped back to her car and drove away. Words fail me!
Sometimes it is hard to differentiate between staff and patients, as they all have the same worried look on their faces.
An elderly jogger has just run past us. Five minutes later, there was another, looking remarkably similar. It was only after the third appearance that we realised it was the same man. Couldn’t he find a more cheerful place?
An hour has passed. Surely the doctors should have something to report by now?
Sitting here in the car, waiting for news, is a painful reminder of the last time we were here when we so very nearly lost Anita.
An anxious mother just arrived, clearly on a mission. She marched into the hospital, reappearing with an entourage of nurses pushing a stretcher to the car that had just driven up. When a young man crawled out of the taxi, it became evident from the agony on his face that he had hurt his spine. He didn’t look like a minor, but his mother determined to stay with him. I waited, expecting trouble if they stopped her, but for some reason, they didn’t.
Rubbing our noses in our annoyance at having to sit in the car and wait…
Two hours later, we presented ourselves at the door to the A&E department. I mean, if the mountain won’t come to us…
We were told that Anita had pneumonia (again) and had possibly another heart attack or a pulmonary embolism in her lung. Oxygen was being administered, along with intravenous antibiotics and pain relief. Every possible test was being done, so we should go home and wait…
The house seemed too quiet and very empty…