As you can tell, I (or at least my body is) am prepared to go to great lengths to get attention. But after DH left I curled up around my pain, with a cold cloth on my forehead and thought. Then I prayed. Then I thought some more and decided, that if I could have anything I wanted right then it would be a warm bath, a back rub and clean PJ"s. God's quick response was to send in every mother's dream of a daughter. 20-something young Nurse Steph, had the no-nonsense air of a good nurse who will not allow anyone on her watch to suffer anymore than absolutely necessary. I told her my wish. She had just come on shift, and I think had not mentally got into nurse mode yet, but I watched resolve take over her expression and she rushed out saying she'd be back soon. Dr Alison walked in, about to go off shift. She explained that Mr D had been consulted and he would be in to see me asap. I thanked her (and silently God) for her decision to do the scan - it would have been so easy for her to just diagnose me with reaction to chemo, and we would never have known there was a lump in my head. ( Or is it, the 'breast in my brain"?)
Back in comes young Steph, with bowls of water, towels and flannels. She removes the press studs and wires, and my top. "Wow! great scar! will you have breast reconstruction?" No I started to say, but she hammered on - you should! now's your chance to have great big boobies (accompanied by hand gestures) and run off to Hugh Heffner!" She started to cover me with the warm soapy towel, and rub my arms. "Just think - I'll see you with your big chest on TV in Hugh's mansion, and I'll be able to say 'I knew her when she was pretending to be a family woman!" Peals of laughter from both of us - silence now from the booth next door where an elderly man was in with a suspected heart attack.
A thorough and invigorating rub of my back and on to my lower half. "Why you don't look your age at all! You're like a newborn babe!" More laughter indeed I do look so these days. A great foot rub, clean underwear from a hastily packed bag by DH and into a hospital gown. I felt much better, and told that sweet girl she was an excellent nurse. Off she went with her head up high.
A short while later Steph and the other kindly nurse came to tell me I was to be taken to the emergency ward to wait for the surgeon. The plan was that I would be removed to the Royal H Hospital for brain surgery , and then brought back to C (private Catholic hospital) for recovery. They wheeled me across the narrow passage and into the ward. They would still be my nurses until I was moved. The ward was very clean and pretty, and they made up a bed for me with lighthearted banter. They settled me into the bed and covered me up. I could watch TV and call them for anything! I lay there and cried, and cried. I listened to another patient gossiping and another complaining about the cost of the privilege of being in this caring, beautiful environment. A man came in and asked me to sign a form. He must have told Steph I was crying because back she came, and spoke kindly to me. "Wouldn't it be great if we could have a spare body that's in pefect working order?' She spoke about how we could make it and keep it hanging in the cupboard. We discussed stem cells and their potential... then I said that actually we do have a perfect "spare body" in heaven. She looked at me seriously for a bit, and then said that anyway we could still design it and go into business together. Knowing that I would have to give up work (for a while at least) it was good to know I had a career option. "We'll call it "The Body" she said, as she left my cubicle.
Mr D arrived shortly after. Another change of plan. The tumour, against all odds, does not look like cancer to his expert eyes, so instead of brain surgery that minute, I would be admitted to C Neurological ward, and tomorrow morning have another, but full body, CT scan and an MRI of my brain. He would then see me in the afternoon, to tell me the treatment plan. He reached out and gently raised the edge of my soft cap. "Yes, my head's all ready for you" I said. With slightly twitching lips, he left.
Then I had another visitor. With my permission, Steph had called the pastoral care counsellor, and a lovely grandmotherly lady turned up and proceeded to comfort me. Although this is a Catholic hopsital (or perhaps because it is?) the PC service includes 'meditation and relaxation techniques' as well as prayer, so I thought it wise to ask a few pertinent questions. When two or more are gatherered in Jesus name for prayer, He is there. I wanted someone to pray with me, but only if they actually believe that Jesus is the son of God, and our saviour. Her eyes lit up at my question, and we had a lovely time of prayer and discussion. She fell in love with my description of my beautiful Boys and prayed for my worried and shocked eldest, and all my family.
As we spoke a different nurse came to wheel me up to the Neuro ward. The PC grandmother came with and held my hand the whole way even when she had to be squished in the narrow passages. I waved and blew a kiss of thanks to the kind nurse, and asked them to please thank Steph (who was busy with a new emergency) for me. Up in the ward I was given a lovely room right at the end of the corridor, and yet another kind nurse offered to make me REAL Hot milk Milo!. The PC stayed with me and we chatted more, about her family this time. Then she offered to read Psalm 23 to me, but from a pamphlet and not a Bible, so I asked to see it. It was a different version, and lacked oomph so I stirred up my memory cells and attempted to recite the beautiful KJV. Yea though I walk through the valley of death I will fear no evil. Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me... surely goodness and mercy shall follow me and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord for ever. With a promise to keep in touch and pray for me, that gift from God left for her home.
I was awake for the rest of the night, with hot flushes and pain continuous, but inspired by my recitation of Psalm 23, I began to practice singing it. Aha - see what I can do when I'm all by myself in the room at the end of the corridor! I segued into Christmas carols, old favourite hymns, lullabies I used to sing to my kids and a few favourite pop songs. My favourite Sara Groves was sung a few times, and The Lord and I had a great time together.
Sara wrote this about my life with Jesus:
I have been talking to you since I was a little girl
So many sweet memories of giving you my world
You are wonderful - a friend to the weary
You have been so faithful - your goodness follows me
You are beautiful your love is neverending
I was just wondering today how over all these years
You've carried so many cares
Calmed so many fears
You are wonderful - a friend to the weary
You have been so faithful - your goodness follows me
You are beautiful your love is neverending
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