The phrase “When life gives you lemons make lemonade” very much sums up where I am just now. As you know from last week’s blog, I was busy planning the publishing schedule for “Friday Night at Rosa’s” starting with “Wedding Belles at Rosa’s,” the prequel to the series. My post went up on Monday during the Mslexia write-in hour, then Mike and I had lunch and went shopping to M&S. Supper was mushroom risotto, a favourite of his, then he watched the football and I went to do more work on my list of things to do before publication day.
All these might seem very trivial details but, given what happened next, they have become a snapshot of what might be our last normal day together.
On Tuesday morning, without any warning, he woke in a state of utter confusion. Luckily he was due to have a blood test and when I explained how worried I was to the nurse, she instantly got him to see the GP, who sent him off to A&E.
By now Mike was determined he was not going to hospital and I was determined he was. How to get him there was the problem. We only live a ten minute drive away but parking is horrendous and he was in no fit state to walk any distance, nor could I drop him off to wait while a found a space, because I was sure he wouldn’t stay.
This is where friends Jan and Peter came to my rescue. Jan came with us and she and I managed to persuade Mike to get out of the car. Then she took him into the department and, when he turned to go home, told him in no uncertain terms that he was staying, while I parked the car, a five minute walk away and hurried back as fast as I could.
When I returned he was about to be transferred to the Acute Medical Unit and from there he was admitted into a ward and they began tests to find out exactly what is going on in his brain.
In the meantime, he’s obsessed with entering numbers on a computer only he can see, while I wait for the result of the scans.
Pretty sour lemons all round.
Now for the bitter sweet lemonade.
Throughout the whole of this horrible week, we have been met with the utmost kindness and care, from the receptionist at the GPs who changed Mike’s original blood test appointment, to Kirsty the nurse who dealt with his reluctance to see Dr Ganesh so gently but firmly, from the friends who helped me to get him to hospital and Heather who fed me supper and gave me hugs and tissues and Molly the dog who curled up at my side because she sensed I need comforting.
Family and friends further afield have been great too. They text and ring and offer support and I know they’ll be here when I need them.
In all this turmoil of emotion there has been so much that has been good. I’ve even had time and space to write this blog.
Misha Herwin 