The Dawning
Last Thursday, I laid in bed for a while and reminisced over the last week, especially since last Saturday 28th June 2014, after I had been to the Spiritual Fair at Buxton, Derbyshire. That day was such a spiritual day and amazing things happened on our way home – see my Shrine Time blog, which I wrote Sunday 29th June 2013.
What a week this was of terrible happenings! My dog Lilly being stuck halfway down a steep ravine and my friend phoning with some worrying news.
Then I got in the house the Thursday before last at 21:30 hours and to say my eyes were plaiting was an understatement – I was literally zombified. I attempted a few tweets to keep the momenta going with regards to my poetry book ‘My Metamorphism by Lesley Chappelle’, but alas I had to give into the fervent request of rest. I slid into sleep within seconds on the sofa and visited NodOff Land. I don’t think I can even remember reclining the sofa.
Temporarily I awoke at 23:00 hours and still in lost slumber, I dragged myself upstairs and fell into bed. Once again, unaware that I had even got there. That Thursday was just exhausting.
So while I laid there recollecting, certain conclusive thoughts began to dawn on me, of just how awesome Thursday 3rd July 2014 was. Why? Because I had saved a life – my stepmother’s life to be exact. As I rationalised the situation, the realisation gave me goose pimples, as I realised just how close, my stepmother had come, to shake hands with death.
The Morning
The morning of 3rd July 2014, my son and I got up early because we both thought he was going to have a minor operation to move a menacing mole on his back. However, on arrival at The Children’s Hospital, it became apparent that it was just another consultation. The relief on my son’s face was apparent and we endeavoured to discuss the operation in more detail.
Two consultants now have advised removal.
When we left the hospital around 13:20 hours, we took our normal route home. Thus we were passing my dad’s old home, where my stepmother, who I always address as Aunt Bea, resides.
For some unknown reason or should I just say my sixth sense now, I said to my son, “Shall we drop in on Aunt Bea for half an hour while we’re passing?” He didn’t answer at first, so I drove on and as I was approaching near to where we turn off for her house, I once again asked my son the same question.
He didn’t respond again so I pulled over and got my mobile contacts list up. I searched for her home telephone number to call her.
“Strange,”
I said inquiringly, “I am sure I had her number in my contacts list.”
However, further searches proved unproductive, so I decided to call in anyway just to show my face, so to speak.
As we arrived, a lady was walking towards us with two fluffy balls of cute fur – they were, what looked like two Lhasa Apso’s breed, like my dogs. I said hello to her and went up to stroke the dogs. We spoke endlessly about dogs and they happened to be rescue dogs and were brothers. They were also crossed bred between Lhasa Apso and Shiatsu – very cute and very cuddly.
We continued to my stepmother’s house and rang the doorbell. Quite quickly the door was answered, which was surprising, as we know Aunt Bea has difficulty walking and is practically blind. However, it was the domestic/home help who answered the door. Surprised at first, we greeted each other and went downstairs to the living room and kitchen, discussing Aunt Bea.
Max, my stepmother’s Miniature Schnauzer dog, was yapping away as he always does and so I greeted and patted him for a few seconds. I went through to the living room and Aunt Bea was bent over forward in the chair. I called out,
“Hello Aunt Bea! How are you?” and then my smiling face dramatically changed to a shocked expression, as I looked at death.
“MY GOD!” I shouted out in shock, “WHAT THE HELL IS UP WITH YOU, YOU LOOK LIKE DEATH?” She was just lent forward and looked up briefly, to which I saw her deathly shadows around her sunken eye sockets. Her skin was greyish and unbeknown to me at the time, her body was shutting down. In hindsight I should have just dialled 999, but I aired on the side of caution.
I must listen to my instincts!
I must listen to my instincts!
I must listen to my instincts!
The domestic, who didn’t know Aunt Bea, as it was her first time there, remarked that she was coughing a lot and kept dropping off to sleep.
Hmm… I thought, I have been dropping off a lot just a lately. Maybe she has got a virus or something?
Well I knelt in front of her and spoke to her to see if she could hear me. She did respond saying it was just a bad day, but I still wasn’t convinced.
The domestic had made her a light lunch, which was two tomatoes, a mini pork pie and a slice of walnut loaf. Aunt Bea had, had a couple of nibbles at it, but not much. As I was speaking to the domestic, I asked for some notes as she said the district nurse had been yesterday I think, and I wanted to know what the situation was.
Briefly I read through the home helps notes, which she had just written and then went to some other folders. I was too much in shock, by how terrible Aunt Bea looked to concentrate on searching for information – every page and section I turned to seemed blank. In between Aunt Bea’s groaning and coughing, she squealed out in pain.
I immediately ran to her and asked,
“What’s a matter? Are you Okay?”
“Yes, but I need a PEE!” She snapped in a curt manner.
As I thought she went upstairs to the toilet, I asked her if she wanted me to help her. She sharply expressed, “No I can’t get up there.” Puzzled I said,
“You can’t get upstairs, well how do you go to bed and come down in the morning?”
She said she did get up eventually, but she used a plastic container on the sink drainer to go to the toilet in the daytime.
I went to get the container, concerned at her daily procedures and asked if she could manage. She said she could, so I asked my son to go outside and I shut the curtains for privacy. I went in the kitchen and did us a cup of tea, while she was busy.
Still not happy with the situation, I helped her to sit down at the kitchen table and head held in hands, she said I should go and she would be alright.
Well I strongly disagreed and then she wanted to pass urine again and winced in pain. I didn’t like what I was seeing and thought it could be a kidney or urine infection, so I said I was phoning the doctor – I did.
The doctor came very quickly and in the meantime, to relieve her breathing difficulties, I gave her 10 x Ventolin asthma sprays. My son, when he was younger had asthma attacks and so I was confident that this could help.
Well Aunt Bea was that weak she could barely hold her mouth around the volumniser, never mind suck any of the contents in. I encouraged her as much as I could and we managed to get a few little breaths in, thank goodness. I then gave her two puffs of my Qvar 50 steroid spray and after about 2 minutes, her eyes were less sunken and the dark circles started to disappear.
Fortunately her breathing got easier and she looked 200% better than she did. I breathed a sigh of relief and sat on the arm of the chair and held her, stroking and rubbing her upper back around her lungs. I knew I had healing gifts and sent these healing vibes into this area.
I think it is so amazing how an ounce of kindness, compassion and love, can heal a person. Just that tiny bit of attention and a cuddle, can make the decaying strangling hold of loneliness which knots in your solar plexus, totally disappear – we are such sociable mammals – hence we are tribal by instinctual nature.
Well death had left the building and she was more compos mentis. The doctor arrived quickly – I was alarmed by how quickly, as it was within twenty minutes. He said she had a chest infection and needed intravenous antibiotics, thus gently stressing that she needed to be admitted into hospital quite quickly.
Due to her stubbornness and lack of co-operation, I concluded to agree that I would take her into hospital, rather than get an ambulance. WHAT a palaver that was? In hindsight I know what I will do next time.
Even though Aunt Bea apparently only weighed 5st, due to her being so weak, she was a dead weight. My son and I struggled with great difficulty to get her up a flight of steps to the front door and I was yelping out in agony due to my bad arm.
At times I really thought I couldn’t do it, but I didn’t give up and we finally got her in the car. I kept holding her hand and stroking it, reassuring her that everything was going to be fine. The doctor had given me a letter to give to A & E and he said they would be waiting for me.
Hmm… that’s all I am saying on this subject, but I sincerely hope the A & E staff are not on when I have to be admitted in an emergency. Their complacency riled me so much, as they took my urgency with a pinch of salt.
Slowly but surely, eruptions of frustrating emotions belched out of my loud mouth, as I could not tolerate such inadequate behaviour. Bland emotionless faces looked gormlessly at me and I wanted to slap them. BUT DIDN’T!
Aunt Bea was eventually fetched by wheelchair from the car, as I hadn’t got the strength to lift her anymore. Then they sat us in the waiting room. “EH??” I said to Aunt Bea, “What the hell is going on? You need urgent attention. You haven’t got a bloody cut finger, for god’s sake.”
“They don’t care. They’re not bothered.” Aunt Bea moaned.
“Well they damn well will be, if they don’t come soon!” I chunted at the top of my breath.
By this time, people who were waiting in the A & E department, were starting to look at me, but I didn’t care, as I just wanted Aunt Bea looking at quickly.
“I know what’ll do next time Aunt Bea, I’ll ring 999 and let them take the stress, plus we will be taken seriously and seen quicker!”
The male nurse who had lapse-so-dazedly brought my stepmother in from the car, came out and called her name. His face was expressionless as he viewed me and probably cringed inside. I knew he was thinking “Oh that stroppy cow again.”
He wheeled Aunt Bea into the assessment room and I told him quickly what had happened and that I couldn’t stress the urgency enough, as I was seriously worried about her. I said her oxygen saturations were really low and I had given her Ventolin.
He put the Oxygen Sat monitor on her finger and took her blood pressure. The results weren’t good and then low and behold he starts to wake up to the fact that I AM RIGHT and this is critical.
He left the room much quicker than I had seen him move and then returned thus wheeling her through to a cubicle. Before I knew it she had a bed and was fitted up to an oxygen pipe in her nose.
M.A.U.1 Bay E Bed 3
Seeing that she was comfortable, I needed to check on my son and the three dogs in the car. I checked on them, taking the dogs a quick walk and moving the car from the emergency drop off point. Once I had given my son some money to get something to eat, I raced back to A & E.
When I got there, Aunt Bea was strapped to an ECG monitor and the nurse said there was movement in the results. She did her oxygen saturation levels while I was there and the results were still extremely low. They proceeded to move her into the Medical Assessment Ward M.A.U.1 and a lovely blonde haired nurse commented saying,
“I think you must have a sixth sense.” I glanced across to her and replied,
“I do.”
We was led down a short corridor and I followed behind Aunt Bea’s trolley bed and that was when I went into freak out mode.
OH GOD, NO! I thought shouted. Please God no…
My mind flew back 2.2 years ago, 20th April 2012 to be exact, as the trolley progressed down the ward.
Please don’t be that bay, please don’t be that bay. My thoughts screamed out in a panicked voice. I felt wide eyed as the trolley passed Bay A, B, C and I held my breath….phew thank goodness for that… The trolley bed turned into Bay D and her bed number was 5.
As they were making Aunt Bea comfortable and settling her into the chair, my mind calculated the bed number my mum was in.
It was M.A.U.1 Bay E Bed 3…