Bet you cannot tell what these are?
Seven years ago, when I had my heart attack, I was rushed to hospital in the middle of the night. The ambulance crew ran the tests on the way, and when I arrived at the hospital, I was taken straight to the Cath Lab, where a stent was fitted in the failing artery.
I went home the following day, as right as ninepence…
I know most of the family were expecting something similar when Anita collapsed and was diagnosed with heart failure last week.
Unfortunately, she was not so lucky.
This past week has been upsetting, confusing and frustrated us all to hell and back. Due mainly to the restricted access to information because of Covid 19. We couldn’t visit Anita, and the doctors are so busy, nailing one of them down for a detailed explanation was well nigh impossible. We had to gradually piece together all the scraps of information until we had a clearer picture, but the result of our detective work was heart breaking. Ours that is…
Not only did Anita have a nasty chest infection, and a build up of fluid on her lungs, but her heart was so severely damaged that any treatment apart from medication would probably have killed her.
So we, and the doctors played a waiting game for most of the week, adjusting her medication repeatedly until she began to respond. Anita didn’t become stable (don’t you just love that expression?) until late on Thursday.
And this is where the confusion started again in earnest. They began talking about Anita coming home over the weekend. But how could she come home without any treatment for her damaged ticker?
It wasn’t until we became first class pests that we learned of their plan.
Because of Covid 19 and the incredible workload at the hospital, and taking into account Anita’s increasing cabin fever, it was decided to allow her to come home to continue to recover until she was well enough for an MRI to assess the extent of the damage to her heart. Only then would they know how to treat it.
So, as of late Saturday afternoon, we collected Anita and became official carers. Armed with a pharmacy of pills, a strict regime, and orders to make sure she rested, we knew it was down to us to keep her going…
But I am sure that all your good wishes, hugs and healing prayers played a huge part in getting Anita this far, and we (the whole Dawes family) thank you all from the bottom of our hearts!
These are virtual flowers for Anita
Yesterday was a very bad day for all the family.
We received a worrying update from the hospital that literally ripped us all to pieces. We all cried as the enormity of the doctors words slowly sank in. Anita’s heart was so seriouly damaged that the only thing they could safely do for her at the moment, was to continue all the medications and hope she could rally under her own steam.
This morning I was determined to try and speak to Anita, as they did say it might be possible and that was good enough for me. The hospital phone line was busy for the longest time but when they finally answered me and I was put through to the ward, I was told there was a phone in her room and if I hung for a minute, she would get me the number.
Minutes later, I heard Anita’s voice…
I expected to hear a frail old lady, for that was how she looked the last time I saw her. Imagine my surprise, when the voice I knew so well, greeted me with all the bounce and enthusism I knew of old. She sounded well, strong and as cheerful as always. Of course, I gently quizzed her for details and everything she spoke of sounded hopeful and encouraging. They were really impressed with her progress and even mentioned being able to go home at the weekend!
We talked for ages, passing the phone back and forth with her son Stephen, and when we finally signed off as they had come to check on something, it was two very relieved people who hung up the phone. We passed the phone number on to the rest of the family, as they were desperate to hear her voice too.
Tomorrow we hope to hear when they will be taking Anita to the Cath Lab for an angiogram to assess the damage and the necessary treatment…
We are so grateful for all the prayers and good wishes coming in from all over the world, and I’m sure they all had a part in her amazing progress!
( This is the closest to heaven I am likely to get for a while… )
The lockdown and isolation has entered the Den of Doom (my office) with a vengeance this week.
We have tried desperately to maintain an optimistic attitude about everything, including all those annoying PC malfunctions. I seem to spend more and more time trying to catch up, meaning I never manage to get around to anything creative anymore.
So much so, our respective muses have been AWOL for days!
Undaunted, I had been looking forward to working on the new bonsai shelves. The wood has arrived and so did the freezing weather. I don’t do freezing to death as my old bones refuse to function below a certain temperature.
So, the waiting will continue…
Shame, for I was looking forward to spending hours away from the computer.
In the middle of the week, I started what I thought was a bad cold, streaming nose and sneezing. Of course, I immediately thought I was dying, but relieved to discover that sneezing is not a symptom of the Covid19 virus.
When the tickly cough arrived, I slipped into denial in a hurry.
The experts say that most people will only get mild symptoms and recover quickly, but not people over 75 who also have serious medical problems like heart conditions, asthma and hypertension, also like me.
Denial is a wonderful coping mechanism and I’m pretty sure I’m not dying. In the past I have beaten some usually fatal conditions, so not expecting to lose this battle either if it turns out that I do have it.
The good news is my temperature is normal and I feel fine…
I have been escaping to the garden more and more lately. The weather has been slowly improving, so I should be able to start working on that very long list of jobs that need to be done.
The need to escape, even to the garden, has been gradually building as the news of this evil virus gets worse.
Everyone is getting edgy, wondering how bad it might get. I have always been an optimist, but I can feel it straining to assert itself.
The shops are empty, and the worry swings between getting sick or starving to death. Some choice, eh?
But… (changing the subject, as I’d rather not dwell on things I can’t do much about)
My bonsai are waking up and this never fails to cheer me up, although this year it seems to be just a little subdued.
I have been busy making sure I have everything I need for the repotting marathon, and the wood for the new shelving should be delivered soon.
The rain-sodden grass has been trying to dry out and although I didn’t feel like cutting it, I thought I had better get to it. Just as well I did, for it poured with rain the following day.
The rest of the garden is waking up too and did my heart good to see my favourites have survived for another year.
Back indoors I try to come to terms with the virus situation. I can forget everything when I’m in the garden, but it waits for me the minute I come back in.
So many things are likely to change and to be honest, I’m terrified. The situation gets worse every day, yet no one seems to know how bad it will get.
Every time I wash my hands, I think about the people who have already died and pray there won’t be many more.
That a miracle will arrive and save us all…
©Jaye Marie 2020
I read this inspirational post this morning from Susanne Lakin @livewritethrive.com and had to share it here…