Thursday, December 03, 2009

Breaking News

Back we went to the hospital, my Mum and me, this morning. Off to the Fracture Clinic for another X-ray.

The taxi driver arrived five minutes early and this made Mum rush rather, leaving the house - she wouldn't want to keep the taxi waiting!

He was one of those taxi drivers who starts revving the engine as soon as you open the door and I didn't want him driving off until Mum's seat belt was fastened so I fastened hers before I got in the car and then he set off and hurtled down the road like Jensen Button. So he didn't get a tip. My rule on taxi drivers is - - set off before I've got my seat belt on = no tip!

Then he deposited us nicely at the wrong part of the hospital even though I'd told him the right part - -- but I didn't want to stay in his taxi any longer and I do know my way round the hospital pretty well, so I got Mum in a wheelchair and set off down the very, very long corridors.

Mum didn't like this as she thought she should walk, and she thought I'd be too heavy for her to push, all seven stone something of her. So when she saw a porter she nearly jumped out in the hope that he'd take over pushing. I screeched to a halt and came round to the front of the wheelchair and pointed out, rather forcibly, that pushing her was no problem but her trying to jump out most definitely was.

At the Fracture Clinic they know her now and had kindly got her a little dark room to wait in, away from the strip lights that give her migraine.

We waited for an hour and twenty minutes. This Morning was showing on two televisions, with Ricky Tomlinson and Katherine Jenkins as the guests. I haven't the foggiest what was said though as the sound was turned down. I found myself thinking - - well, either have a television that can be heard, or don't have one at all!

So I went through the notes for the session for medical students that I'm helping to run tomorrow. Finally Bright Young Doctor came out. He looked at Mum's arm where the shoulder was operated on and it's healing fine.

"But would you still like her to have another X-ray?" he asked me.

Now then. Doctors are taught always to speak to the patient, not to their accompanying relative. This one didn't entirely follow this rule - - but actually, if he'd asked the same question of Mum she would have said "Oh, no, thank you," and gone home. So there was a time to speak to the daughter instead, and this was it.

I explained that Mum had been complaining that, since she'd fallen onto the settee a couple of days ago, her neck hurts. He looked at her neck and couldn't fine too much wrong. Her ribs hurt too, and she can't cough. He prodded about a bit.

"I think you've cracked a rib," he said. "No point in an X-ray for that though as we can't do anything about it anyway - it will heal on its own."

So off we went for the shoulder X-ray. They know her there too and speeded her through.

Back we came to Bright Young Doctor who put the latest exciting Shoulder Picture up on the screen.

We all looked with interest at the crack that had been mended and which is less obvious than it was.

And then we all looked with interest at the bright new crack a little way down the arm.

Damn. Bright Young Doctor went into the next cubicle to fetch Smoothly Handsome Consultant.

Smoothly Handsome Consultant had met my mother before. He looked into her eyes and put his arm round her.

"So what have you been doing to yourself this time?" he said in "Hello, Little Lady, I will Protect You" tones.

Now my mother's always considered herself to be a bit of a feminist and she did the only possible thing. Which seemed to be to flutter her eyelashes, look coy, take his hand and flirt like mad.

"The new break doesn't need an operation. We'll put on a different kind of sling that will keep the arm a bit straighter. And then come back and see me in three weeks."

He made it sound like a Hot Date. My mother looked at him adoringly. She likes Hungarians. Of course, my grandfather was Hungarian so perhaps it was the Hungarian connection that drew her to The Communist.

We got a taxi home.

Of course, we still don't know why my mother keeps falling over, so I'm going to take her to the GP next week and we'll take it from there. I'm just relieved that we got through this morning without too much stress. I was pretty sure, yesterday, that there was something further wrong with her, and at least the new break goes some way to explaining why she was so under-the-weather yesterday.

Thank you all for your helpful comments on yesterday's post - - I have taken them all on board!


Blogger Silverback said...

I sense new torment in your mum's mind now.

"I hate hospitals. They're like jails. I'll never get out. But this one has Handsome Hungarian McDreamy and he was.....dreamy. I really do need regular dates.....I mean checkups. I guess I don't mind hospitals."

If she starts calling you Dave and seems to be speaking slower and slower, watch out.

8:22 pm  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Some of these consultants can be right charmers when required. I'm glad you didn't have the tormented day you were envisaging. Let's hope your mother's arm mends as quickly as her shoulder seems to be doing... and the GP takes a real interest in all her symptoms. Have you written everything down, with dates, so you can give a clear picture?

9:53 pm  
Blogger Yorkshire Pudding said...

Well I hope your mum gets through these trials and tribulations successfully. Thank heavens she has you there to look out for her to partly counter her stubborn, independent sparkle.

3:12 pm  
Anonymous Oliver said...

Considering that you've raised such an introvert, bear in mind that if you were as toe-curlingly embarrassing as your mother in all public situations, we wouldn't take you places when you're old and any bits of you that were broken would probably stay that way...

Oh all right, we probably would. And the above may seem harsh to anyone who hasn't been in a room with her while she flirts.

I have only ever met one person who is as bad a flirt as my grandmother. And said woman, last week, caused a friend of mine to run, really run, away from *his own house*, over a mile and a half through the middle of York, at 2am, desperately clasping his dressing gown around his naked form.

When my grandmother is around, one ought to... well... refrain from being male. Or Hungarian.

5:49 pm  

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