A Visitor Falls

Ma modelling her splint
Time: A little after 3pm. I am slowly digesting the radiology report following my CT scan which has just been read to me over the phone. Normal. I don’t think a word has ever sounded so good to me. I still have the symptoms, but it isn’t caused by a growth lurking in my sinuses. Huge, tearful relief. 

It’s been a productive week at Hotel H, I’ve been balancing work – so tantalisingly close to the end of Book 3 – with trips out with Ma who’s been staying here. We’ve just been for lunch at a garden centre before I crack on with another 1000 words.

Ma, who’s been pottering in the garden, calls out from the back door.

‘Have you got a plaster?’

‘I’ll get you one,’ I say, getting up.

And at the back door I see what looks like the aftermath of a fight in a black pudding factory. I know a little blood goes a long way, but a lot of blood goes even further. Ma has fallen out of the greenhouse, gashing open a varicose vein on the frame and badly twisting her right thumb as she tries to save herself.

I sit her down, elevate the leg, apply pressure… and then shout for Tom.

The patient, of course, is muttering about making a mess and being a nuisance but is told pretty firmly that she is going to casualty whether she likes it or not.


Twenty-five miles later we sit in our nearest A&E while the Discovery Channel blares out over our heads. We unwittingly sit through a documentary about the road to Berlin, graphically illustrating man’s inhumanity to man, which is then followed by a programme about great train disasters. It’s not exactly cheerful stuff.

Ma is called not a minute too soon as her dressing is now saturated. ‘Nasty things, greenhouses,’ observes the doctor as he closes and dresses the wound before sending Ma for an x ray. Ma, to our great relief has no fractures – just as well as this is her ‘good’ arm since she did a proper job of mangling the other one falling in the snow.
Ma modelling her dressing.
Nevertheless her arthritic bones have not enjoyed their encounter with the ground and the bruising is something to behold.  She is given a splint to encourage everything to settle.
Despite her mauling, Ma’s as chipper as ever.  ‘I didn’t think I’d be falling out a greenhouse today,’ she says happily. Typically, she doesn’t complain once about how much pain she must feeling – she really is remarkably resilient.
Once again, my thanks to the staff at Glangwili hospital for their compassion, kindness and care… I am not, however, ‘missing you already’.
Ma trying to hide behind Tom
PS Tom has asked me to point out that the above picture is not our 'nasty' greenhouse but belongs to the National Botanic Garden of Wales... at least she managed not to fall out of that one.

Comments

Georgina Troy said…
What a nasty fright you must have had discovering your mum's injuries. I'm relieved she's okay. What a stoical lady.
Lane Mathias said…
Your Ma is made of true grit.

Glad she's ok and also glad you're normal :)
Margaret James said…
That generation, they're so feisty, well done, Ma!
Margaret James said…
That generation, they're so feisty, well done, Ma!
Morton S Gray said…
These mothers are a worry. My Mom is just recovering from breaking her hip and demolishing the glass cooker door with her head on the way down! Hope your mother mends quickly. M x
Jane Lovering said…
It's great that she's so on top of things (well, not great that she was on top of the greenhouse, but you see what I mean)that she can joke about it! And I'm very glad that it wasn't worse, as the doctor said, greenhouses are nasty things that seem to exist only to sever things on humans - not worth it for a couple of tomatoes and cactus collection.
All best wishes to your poor mum, and a toast to you, for your clear scan result! Cheers!
Frances said…
Chris, there's always some excitement round your place! I am so glad your scan results were good, and also that you are within "spitting distance" of finishing your latest novel.

Best wishes to your Ma for a steady recovery. Her Plaster Request once again shows her understated dry wit. Good that the hospital was not too far away.

I hope that the greenhouse will behave itself for the rest of the growing season. xo
Sarah Tranter said…
I love your mum! So strong. An incredbily traumatic time. I'd have been a blubbering wreck. So plesaed she's doing okay today. Hugs X
Liane Spicer said…
So glad your scan came up clear and your mom will be okay. Our moms are so tough!

Wishing you lots of boring quiet in the coming days.
Chanpreet said…
Wow Chris! What an eventful week for you. I'm so glad the scan came back clear. I had one done myself two years ago, but on my brain that came back clear. I was surprisingly calm and ready for anything, but my mom was a mess thinking about the worst case scenario.

I admire your mum. There is really something special about that generation. It really is "stay calm and carry on". And she never lost her sense of humor. That's just wonderful!

I'm glad to hear your getting some writing done on book 3. i'm really looking forward to heading back to Little Spitmarsh. I'm sending lots of happy thoughts your way!
I'm delighted about the scan. I was thinking about you yesterday. It's great when these tests rule out things, which i what they usually do, all going well.
Flowerpot said…
Great news about the scan Chris. And glad all worked out with your mum. And great news that Book 3 is nearly finished. What a lot of achievements!
Pondside said…
Nasty greenhouse - attacking an innocent woman. There is no doubt that your mum is one of the toughest women in the UK!
I am so glad to read the news about your scan. The relief one feels at 'normal' is such a shock, isn't it?
What pondside said! In fact I was just setting out to type something pretty identical when I made the mistake of reading her comment. Glad about the scan. Sorry about the attacking greenhouse. I have one of those mothers too it won't surprise you to know!

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