Don't DO That To Me Again!
So. Saturday night, 11 pm or so. I am (for once) blissfully asleep, enjoying the warm bed. Dad has been in hospital for a couple of weeks now, but I'd talked to him about 8 pm and he sounded fine on the phone, and as far as I knew he'd be coming out in a couple of days.
So far so good? Right.
Then the phone rings. It's Mum, and her voice is close to tears as she tells me that the hospital rang her and told her to come there now, because he might not make it.
Cue me sitting bolt upright in bed, shrieking "What do you MEAN, he might not make it?!"
And she goes on to say that there were blod clots in his lungs and his breathing was bad and it could go either way, but that they didn't sound hopeful. Then she said she had to go as Val was driving her there, and I was left fretting.
Ian, being the magnifcent boyfriend that he is, helped me up, made me a coffee and two big thick sandwiches to eat, and sat up with me until I was so tired I had to go back to sleep.
The next morning, I find out what Mum knows, which is that Dad is out of danger and "doing very very well". Yes. That's all the information either of us got. Later, we found out that the blood clots were actually from somewhere else, and had very fortunately lodged in the lungs instead of the heart or brain (both of which are Very Bad Things.) He is now back on Wafarin permanently, and is still in the hospital and sometimes on oxygen, but at least he's alive.
And I've quit smoking because of it. Enough of a fright, I think, to kick one into gear.
I hope everyone else had a calmer week than me!
So far so good? Right.
Then the phone rings. It's Mum, and her voice is close to tears as she tells me that the hospital rang her and told her to come there now, because he might not make it.
Cue me sitting bolt upright in bed, shrieking "What do you MEAN, he might not make it?!"
And she goes on to say that there were blod clots in his lungs and his breathing was bad and it could go either way, but that they didn't sound hopeful. Then she said she had to go as Val was driving her there, and I was left fretting.
Ian, being the magnifcent boyfriend that he is, helped me up, made me a coffee and two big thick sandwiches to eat, and sat up with me until I was so tired I had to go back to sleep.
The next morning, I find out what Mum knows, which is that Dad is out of danger and "doing very very well". Yes. That's all the information either of us got. Later, we found out that the blood clots were actually from somewhere else, and had very fortunately lodged in the lungs instead of the heart or brain (both of which are Very Bad Things.) He is now back on Wafarin permanently, and is still in the hospital and sometimes on oxygen, but at least he's alive.
And I've quit smoking because of it. Enough of a fright, I think, to kick one into gear.
I hope everyone else had a calmer week than me!