After Surgery

After Surgery

With much trepidation and reluctance, Mum signed the consent form for surgery on her ankle,

Things then  moved quickly; the operation was scheduled for the next day.  As Mum was convinced she wouldn't survive, we all rallied round to cheer her up and give her some positive thoughts.  Great grandson Al was very good news; more than anyone, he kept her happy, and managed to distract her for much of the time.

It is a horribly anxious time when someone you love is taken to theatre for an operation; Mum might not have been facing major heart surgery, but even so.......

After she had been wheeled off to the theatre, we sat by Mum's bed on the ward, and waited. After an hour or more, I asked a nurse if we could find out how things were going; she told me I could go down to the theatre reception area, and they would update me.

Happily, the news was good.  They said Mum was doing just fine; the epidural had been effective, and she had been awake during the procedure. It would still be a little while before she was back on the ward, but at least she was on her way.

After that, it seemed time passed more quickly, and soon Mum was back in bed on the ward - complaining volubly about the freezing spray she had had to endure on her back, before the operation began. The doctor who accompanied her back to the ward squeezed her hand and said, "I know how cold it is....but it really was necessary, and you coped very well!"

It was clear Mum just needed to rest, and sleep. She was safely tucked up in bed, and that gave the rest of the family the chance to get home and relax, and catch up on some sleep as well.  Being nervous, anxious, worried .....  it is an exhausting state to be in.

Early the next morning, I was back at the hospital;  Mum was awake and quite chipper. The nursing staff said she had had a good night, and had had a bed bath, so I was able to help Mum to wash her face and clean her teeth, and get her started on eating her cornflakes.

During the course of the morning, the surgeon arrived on his rounds. After being so against letting him operate, now Mum was all smiles and extremely flirty! and thanked him profusely for taking such good care of her.

Out of Mum's earshot, he explained the full extent of what they had been able to do.  He had inserted a metal plate and half a dozen screws on one side of Mum's left ankle, to hold everything together - looking at the X-rays, I saw a distinct resemblance to a bit of Meccano kit!

He said that although everything had gone well, Mum's bones were like cheese, and very crumbly, and she would need a lot of physiotherapy to help get her up and about again.

Even if Mum's ability to walk was going to be restricted in the future, at least I felt we were making some progress, and I knew we would all encourage her to follow a physiotherapy programme.

Mum stayed in hospital for a few more days; one of us continued to go twice a day, continuing the routine of an early morning visit, to make sure she ate her breakfast and took her medication, and a second visit in the early evening, to bring her dinner.  There was certainly nothing wrong with Mum's appetite!

One evening, after I had got back from the hospital, and had just begun to think it was time I got to bed, there was a phone call from the Sister on the ward.  Mum was fine, but they were moving her to another hospital, five miles further away.

"We'll do everything for Phyllis," the woman said, "you don't need to worry about anything."

By now it was about 11.30 at night.

"Just a minute," I said. "My Mum is 92 - it's very late at night, it's November, and it's very cold. Of course I shall go round and make sure she is alright, and settled on the new ward."

After another exchange or two, when I was told it was completely unnecessary for me to go, I finally managed to end the call - and end the idea of getting a good night's sleep, after a long day!

It was really hard to get ready to go out again, but it proved to be just as well that I did go to the new hospital.

When I arrived, I had to find out which ward Mum had been sent to; I was determined to check on her, and I would not take "no" for answer.  I said I just wanted to reassure Mum that all was well;  that she knew that I knew where she was; and that I would be back, first thing in the morning.

With much humming and ha-ing, I was finally allowed on the ward to see Mum.  She was sitting in bed, wide awake, very upset, and shivering with cold. She also did not know if her personal items had come with her.

I was mightily unimpressed.  I told one of the nurses, "My Mum has lived abroad for most of her life, in hot countries.  She is not used to being moved out of doors in the middle of the night, when it is so cold, here in England. She needs extra blankets, and, whilst you're at it, have you got a hot water bottle for her?"

I didn't care if I ruffled feathers; my main concern was Mum, and she was so pleased to see me, and hear me asking for help and extra bedding.  Presently, more blankets were provided, and I got Mum well wrapped up, snug and warm, and settled her down for the night. She was very happy when I found her personal bits and pieces in the locker by her bed.  I promised her I would be back in the morning, as usual.

Then, at last, I could go home and get some rest.