After spending about four hours in A & E, my mother was admitted to the Acute Stroke Unit, where she was hooked up to a gamut of Sci-Fi looking gadgets. She didn’t want me to leave, but I sensed that the staff would prefer it if I did. So I said my goodbyes, not really knowing whether she was going to make it through the night, but I strongly suspected that she would.
I went in search of a coffee machine, to find it out of use. I was then given the directions to another one, two floors up, which I also found to be lacking. Always the way when you are desperate. Then I remembered there was something more interesting in the fridge at home. So went outside, struggling to remember where I had left the car, but I needn’t have worried, it was about the only one left in the car park. As the cold air hit my face it started to snow quite heavily, so I drove home very slowly.
I got back at about 2.00.a.m and headed straight for the fridge, breathing a sigh of relief when my fingers touched the neck of the well chilled bottle of Pinot Grigio.
I felt completely disoriented. I hadn’t eaten all day and I wasn’t hungry. It was too late, or rather too early, to ring anybody. So, whilst sitting in the dark at the kitchen table, I drank the whole bottle of wine without realising it whilst Googling everything I could find about strokes. I was so incensed that three GP’s had failed to make the diagnosis. After my third glass of wine, I was going to sue the entire medical profession having read that for stroke treatment to be most effective, it should be started a.s.a.p. A week had passed before my mother started receiving any treatment. I was raging!
Having drained the bottle of wine, I went in search of another one, which was highly unlikely given that my mother didn’t drink, but it was worth a try. There wasn’t one, which was just as well, because I felt like shit the following morning anyway.
Next … Onwards and Upwards