So with what is now becoming something of a mantra of a caveat, "Unless we hear otherwise..." I determine to try my best to get back into my normal routine for a while, at least until the next crisis strikes, whilst my sister plans her imminent return to her home far away now that the "immediate danger" seems to have passed, although she now risks a small crisis of her own as the stimulating "adrenaline rush" of these worrying times begins to wear off.
Meanwhile, of course, there is also the possibility that the knowledge of my sister's imminent departure will trigger an anxiety attack in my mother and set off another "episode" and the whole wretched cycle will start all over again. In the spring my sister ended up heading home only to return 24 hours later and it because of this scenario, and the great distances she would have to cover despite not being well herself, that our "little chats" in the car park have become necessary.
I, of course, just plod on, starting the day with an explanatory email to my colleagues as I attempt another return to "normality" of my own:
Just to keep you in the loop (because I know it can feel "awkward" to ask), despite telephone calls from the hospital on both Wednesday and Friday from doctors who were certain that "the end" was near, and despite holding her hand for much of the past weekend thinking that she might be slipping away at any moment, mum continues to rally and seems (at least as of this morning) to be as "stable" as can be expected and so, with the usual proviso of "unless we hear otherwise" I'd like to attempt an ordinary working day, albeit one based at home for today at least.
My sister will be covering visiting duties in the daytime at least, so that's one weight lifted.
So email and contact me as you usually would, and we'll see how far we get this time…
Many thanks for being so understanding...You do, of course, worry that you're going to "jinx" things by writing messages like that, but these things have to be done, and I'm really not superstitious enough to believe that one can affect the other. The problem is, of course, that you can really start to believe thhat you are living in days of miracle and wonder which means that, as the hope builds, the crash when it fails to be delivered upon is that much harder to bear.
Nevertheless, in a world where things dear to me thought long-lost can miraculously reappear, and doctors can be mistaken on several occasions, you do begin to wonder about the times we live in, even if my own, smaller, more personal ambitions still fail to be delivered.
But the really troubling thing is that when you're focussing on other things it is almost possible to forget for a few moments what's actually going on so that, when you do remember, and the images deluge back into your brain again, somehow it's far, far worse. Equally, it's possible to persuade yourself that, at least for the time being, everything's going to be all right again, and, even though you know that one day it really isn't going to be, you think that it isn't at least going to be any time soon... but then you have to remind yourself that it might be... In fact it might even be today...
Such is the emotional roller-coaster that we are currently riding.
Still, these days, any day that doesn't have an emergency telephone call summoning me to the hospital is a bit of a bonus, to be honest with you, and I found myself sauntering onto the ward slightly earlier than the normal scheduled time because of a train delay shifting the whereabouts of where I had to be and when, which was, as things turned out, just as well.
Since five o'clock, mum had been shouting at nurses and telling them to call me, because I'd said that I was visiting during the evening and, despite thousands of years of history, she'd decided that that meant "right now"and not at the rate the planet continued to turn. This meant that the staff were very grateful to see me, even though I wasn't allowed straight in because an EEG (or perhaps an ECG) was in the process of being done after a troubling blood pressure blip during the afternoon.
My sister was running late, and mum seemed very weary but claimed not to be sleepy, although the racking cough sounded rather chesty to me and I had to check that it was still being treated which, quite naturally, it was. My sister turned up and, after half an hour or so of muted conversation, I left them to have a mother/daughter moment whilst I went for a bit of a walk. This was because a few sombre farewells needed to be done with my sister heading back home the next day, and I returned to discover that mum was now claiming to have lots of visitors during the afternoon, the nurses currently on duty claiming to have been told that I rarely come to see her, and that I hadn't been to visit at all over the weekend.
It's so nice when all your efforts are so very much appreciated...
Afterwards, my sister and I bid our own fond farewells in the car park and so the torch was passed again and, it seemed, another immediate crisis had been survived, if I'm not speaking too soon or tempting fate...
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