Not a very Happy Happy Joy Joy Eastern Sunday for me. I had gone to my parents for Eastern, with S. staying home, her son having come over for the bank holiday. Everything seemed to go alright, until I was called by him just before Sunday lunch — S. had collapsed on the toilet and needed to be taken to hospital. It’s at times likes these that you get to know your family: my parents drove me back to Amsterdam, in the borrowed car of my sister’s boyfriend. We left at noon and arrived at the hospital at two. S. was in intensive care, hooked up to an i.v. while the doctors ran various tests. For a time it seemed she might need to be put on a breathing aparatus, but fortunately this turned out not to be necessary. Quick action and experience soon stabilised her physically, the infection that once again seemed to be the root of the problem responding well to antibiotics, butI was more worried about how she would get through all this mentally. Barely responsive on Sunday, she seemed to only improve slowly this Monday and Tuesday, until today.
Once again we seem to have dodged a bullet; after having had a sobering conversation with the main doctor treating her yesterday, who explained that they had no idea if and how long it would take for S. to “wake up”, today when I called the hospital they said that she was awake and answering questions. I’ve never felt more relieved, nor did the rest of the family, not the least her son of course….
What remains is the fear this will happen again. This was the third time she had gotten home from the hospital only to have to return there in less then a week and this time it happened so quickly: alright on Friday, tired on Saturday, collapsed the day after. How the hell are we going to avoid yet another relapse so soon? Suggestions, on a postcard, to…