Well then, my Mum is now the proud owner of a new hip! Having arrived at the hotel (sorry, cute little hospital) rather hungry having not eaten since the previous evening, she was given the news that she was now at the end of the operating list for the day and not near the start (having said that there were only four people on the list). She settled down with her new book and had ploughed through most of it before surgery. Now I know she looks younger than her 80 years but they appeared to have got her confused with someone of childbearing years as she was given an epidural for the cut and shut – a new experience for someone with many previous surgical outings. Two hours after the surgery was completed she was eating toast and chatting, no drowsiness, no pain or other adverse reactions. The hospital was packed out.............only two patients over the whole weekend on her wing.
As you regular readers will recall, I have had previous experience of the French surgeon involved and was a little concerned at his command (or lack of) English. He drew on her leg to ensure he had the correct one and wrote zeees one for zeeee chop just for good measure. Actually I am making that bit up. Just as well he wasn’t Italian or there would have been concerns about a lightning strike being called midway through surgery. His follow up visits over the weekend and on leaving day were interesting................he wandered in (and was mistaken for the janitor), asked if Mum was feeling okay, shook her hand and left. No examination of the repair whatsoever!
On the plus side, the day after her operation Mum was pottering around with a zimmer frame, by the second day she had progressed to using two sticks and on day three we brought her home. She has ended up with mega bruising on the leg and in fact does resemble a bottle of Ribena, but is doing her exercises regularly and hopes to walk a little further each day. Just as well really as I have entered her for the marathon. I visited her after her first night at home and was met by the sight of a bruise on one of her knuckles. No, she hadn’t fallen over..............she is currently sleeping in a different room to my Dad as the bed is lower and firmer and she needed to attract his attention in the night as she couldn’t reach the light switch. After half an hour of knocking on the bedside cabinet and shouting his name he turned over and heard her. He had been sleeping with his deaf ear uppermost............... life is never dull.
Next on the list is the dismantling and rebuilding of the conservatory...........everything happens at once here. It should be an entertaining couple of weeks with my Dad asking lots of questions, staring into the hole and passing on his views of everything from politics to the number of people entering the UK to work. Let us hope the builders are not from Eastern Europe, although I can teach him some Slovenian for ease of communication. Actually the only word I know is kompir which means potato, but this could be useful if he wishes to offer them a snack for lunch. Mum has stocked the larder full of biscuits for the workers (I am banking on them all being wheat intolerant so I can steal the packets for my own cupboards) and is already (five days on from surgery) pottering around the house with one stick, so she should be able to make some cups of tea for the chaps. I have once again offered my services in this area but not surprisingly have been met with a very loud “NO” from anyone who has ever tried my hot beverages. In my experience, so long as the drink is wet and warm then the builders won’t mind (although the large brownish puddle by the flower beds left last time I had building works done might explain how they apparently drank their tea so quickly.........).
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