Somehow it has already been a week since Lady M had her surgery, and I’m pleased to say she is generally recovering well. She still keeps wanting to dive back to work, which tells you everything you need to know about how unwell and uncomfortable she was that being immediately post major surgery she was feeling well enough in comparison to think all was okay.
A slow pace has been enforced, marked by cups of tea and sessions playing on the xbox. There has even been embroidering on a cosplay on one slow evening. The smile is back, the giggle is back, occasionally there is a wince.
Lady M is home, ensconced on the sofa with an xbox controller in hand, fed and watered, meds all taken, and a big smile on her face. On both of our faces to be fair.
I have made it very clear, with support from her boss, that she is to have a few days off to recover from what is categorically major surgeries rather than rely on her insanely high pain tolerances. There was a show of reluctance and then relief.
She looks and sounds healthy, and from reading the surgical notes is bouncing back from a complex and involved series of procedures with a velocity that would not be unexpected in a rubber ball.
Something continues to be going very wrong in the arranging of MRIs for Lady M, which now leaves us in the position of feeling like Shrodinger’s patients twice over in terms of when a scan will take place and what is being scanned. If it wasn’t so serious, you could write a great farce out of it all.
As things stand I’m going to work tomorrow as usual and Lady M may or may not get an Uber to one of two hospitals for either one, two, or no scans. If that doesn’t happen then there may be an as yet to be determined number of MRIs on Monday.
No wonder we’re exhausted.
I’ll be working with the public as a rest from all this tomorrow. At least it will be a good distraction, whatever the day brings.
I wasn’t expecting it but finally got the call from Lady M that she was going to be allowed home while they waited for an MRI slot to become available. That could take a couple of weeks. Then they can make an informed decision on how to proceed.
They’re talking surgery, but until the MRI shows them exactly what they’re dealing with they’re not leaping to conclusions – which given the range of possible diagnoses we’ve had this week as they tested and tested is a relief.
So she’s back, she’s sleeping, and I’ve been able to relax for the first time this week.
I’m currently waiting to hear from Lady M, who I last saw being helped into an ambulance after chest pains started in the early hours of this morning.
The good news is that the paramedics are reasonably sure from their tests that she hasn’t been having a heart attack but may have torn some of the muscles between her ribs.
That said, they want to be sure, obviously, and have taken her for a blood test and monitoring. Due to Covid restrictions I’m not allowed to accompany her, so I’ve put the thickest book I could find, and her phone charger in a bag to keep her from getting bored.
And so now its the waiting game. Its been a very rough night so I might catnap a bit.
So, the cub has a very strong sass-game, inherited from his mum, that combines with the natural sense of wonder at the world that a young lad has anyway to produce some amazing moments from time to time.
The backpack that he wears to school looks a bit like a cartoon monster. It’s a bright lime green, has big eyes and felt teeth along it’s fold down edge. At the beginning of term, Lady M taught him to treat it like The Monster Book of Monsters from Harry Potter. This involves gently stroking its spine (the top) before opening or closing the clasp. She even made the bag shuffle and roar while he wore it to emphasise that he needed to take care of it or it would fight back.
Fast forward to this morning and I get a message from Lady S that she has made a packed lunch for the cub, and try as she might she can’t get the bag to close. The cub walked up, took the bag off her, stroked it’s spine, and closed the bag without any problems.
He then looked her in the eye and said: “you don’t show this bag the love and respect it deserves.” He then added: “Jo knows how to treat my bag.”
To say that Lady S was a bit gobsmacked is an understatement. We have been teasing her on our group chat, saying we can’t imagine where he gets his sass from…
This has been a bit of stressful week, all told, as we’ve continued to try and work out what has been making Lady M so unwell. As journeys go, it has been a mixture of fear, worry and boredom in various ratios from day to day – largely because we’ve been navigating the bureaucracy of our local hospital.
After a combination of CT scans and lumbar punctures, and the insistence of a frankly amazing neurologist, we have at least determined that the recent pain and disorientation experienced by Lady M are not life-threatening. Considering that for a while we thought we were dealing with an aneurism, that’s a great relief.
We’re still not entirely sure what has been at the root of the problem. Our neurologist’s best suggestion has been a thunderclap headache with an unusually long lingering echo.
There are some issues with medication that still need to be reviewed for other issues, so there is a possibility that there was some toxicity and/or stress involved – but for now the joke that Lady M needed to be rebooted seems to have some currency.
So, a quiet weekend is planned. Well, quiet-ish anyway. As quiet as we ever manage to wrangle…
The last week has, frankly, been awful – which is why I’ve not been updating recently. Instead we’ve been mostly on the road and living on caffeine and bloody-mindedness.
Lady M’s father had been rushed into hospital after a fall, but we learned in the early hours of Wednesday morning that he was in critical condition and the hospital was advising us to come in. The hospital in question was in North Tees, and we live on the outskirts of London – so with very little sleep or time for preparation we threw stuff into a bag, wrote texts to assorted people who needed to know, and hit the road.
As of today, he is still in a critical condition with multiple system failures, on life support and non-stop dialysis, and we’ve had to make the heartrending decision to come home and try and carry on with life while the specialists try to work out if he has any chance of recovery. We’re expecting sooner rather than later to get a fresh call to return and say goodbye, but we also know how tough and stubborn he is so who knows how this will end? The specialists aren’t taking bets, so we’re not either.
I use humour to get through and past the trials of life, but between this, my own slightly precarious health and the problems of the people I love, that humour is pretty thinly stretched at the moment.