Ma modelling her splint |
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 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
Glad she's ok and also glad you're normal :)
All best wishes to your poor mum, and a toast to you, for your clear scan result! Cheers!
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
Wishing you lots of boring quiet in the coming days.
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 am so glad to read the news about your scan. The relief one feels at 'normal' is such a shock, isn't it?