Hospital 1980

I think nearly everyone has a serious illness in their life. After 50 years of the usual illnesses (childhood infections, measles, mumps, chicken pox, boils abscesses, TB when young, trouble with wisdom teeth, double pneumonia (really quite ill with this one), the usual discomforts associated with childbearing, bronchitis, asthma, arthritis – it’s quite frightening when one writes these things down) my really awful illness became my lot in January 1980.

January the second I had a hysterectomy. I was quite scared as I wasn’t looking forward to the anaesthetic. I can remember shaking uncontrollably when they put me on the trolley. I remember arriving at the anteroom to the theatre, where they gave me an injection. The staff were very reassuring. Then I think I must have gone to sleep because I remember no more until the following morning, when the ward got a wake-up call to get up and shake a leg.

My memory is very hazy after that. I only know I collapsed. I was told, a long time later, that I practically died on the spot. They revived me and I was rushed to the special care unit. The family and my husband were all contacted as I was not given any hope of recovery. But the doctors and nurses really worked on me, although I was out of this world for nearly three weeks. When I did regain some semblance of life I gradually became aware that I couldn’t see, could very barely hear, and was paralysed from the neck down. They took me back to the ward, but I don’t remember the transition.

My very first clear memory happened during the Doctor’s rounds. I very clearly saw him at my bedside surrounded by students, and hearing him say "This poor woman had a massive embolism, she will never walk again." I thought "Oh, won’t she", and from that minute I started to fight.

My sight and my hearing gradually returned (except that I am still deaf in one ear). My memory also very gradually returned. At first I didn’t know anyone or anything. It was quite a milestone when I began to sit up. After several days I was able to pull myself up by the pulleys they provided.

Then they decided to take me down to the Physio room – quite an experience. There I learned a lot of things. It was all very hard work, I had to teach myself again to look, to count, to manipulate, to think, to talk, and to eventually walk again. The exercises, the manipulations, the massages were sheer heaven.

Back in the ward I practiced writing. I have included my very first attempt.

The only thing that remained perfectly normal was my ability to pray, and Heaven was really bombarded with my thoughts and prayers. Funny how God remained such a constant thought in my life.

I gradually got better. February 21^st was my birthday, and the ward sister very kindly let my children arrange a birthday tea for me. I was allowed one Babycham. In the middle of the festivities the double doors opened and Sister announced "It’s a boy". My Grandson had been born in the Mothers and Babies Nursing Home at Charlton. My eldest daughter, Nicola, had given birth, so it was a double celebration.

In March I went to a convalescent home for two weeks, then I came home to my houseful of children and my very caring husband. It took me a while to get back in my stride, but with hard work I did it. God had given me a second life and I vowed not to waste a minute of it.