An inconvenient call

I don't know why it popped into my head, but this morning I recalled one of the most bizarre phone calls I've ever had.

It was late on the morning of Monday, January 4th, 1999.

How do I recall that so specifically? Because I was in the birthing suite at the hospital!!!

I would have taken the call on my very corporate Nokia - remember these??

I'd arrived at the hospital earlier that morning for what Geoff would later describe as 'the most boring day of my life'. My contractions, like the action in the cricket on the TV, were intermittent and separated by long periods of tedium. It's probably why I took the call.

For many workers, it was the first day back after the Christmas/New Year break - luckier ones had an additional week. I'd finished up work when the office had closed - about two weeks prior - and was planning to return in April, so I assumed it was family or a friend. In those days, your phone didn't tell you who was calling - you either recognised the number or took your chances by picking up.

It turned out to be the Executive Assistant to the Managing Director of a financial services client I looked after, and I was, needless to say, surprised she was calling. She'd previously struck me as a bit vague, but this time she excelled herself. Here's how the conversation went:

MMW: MWW speaking...
EA: Hi MWW and happy new year. Did you have a nice Christmas?
(Bit of small talk)
EA: The MD has asked me to ring you as he's hoping you'll be able to attend a workshop he's having on Thursday
MWW: Yeah, probably not - I actually started maternity leave before Christmas...
EA: Oh, really? I didn't realise it was so soon... I thought you still had a while to go (Said in a way that suggested maybe I'd got that wrong and she was, in fact, correct...)
MMW: Yes. I'm actually at the hospital now.
EA: Oh... right. So.... you won't be able to do the workshop on Thursday? (In a tone that suggested perhaps I could and should)

Seriously.

And when I did clearly state that no, I wasn't available, she sounded rather put out.

Oh, well.

Keep Calm

Good advise for those who panic. Unfortunately it appears I have moved to the other extreme. It's not that I don't care but I suspect I've had enough real drama in my life so far to appreciate that panic is just not a helpful state - but perhaps I could, on occasion, try to ramp up the concern.

A message I don't need!

I know that there are plenty of people in the world who've done it much harder than my family - I'm fortunate to have that perspective. But compared to the average first world family (whatever that means), we've had more than our fair share of medical 'incidents'. I have had to call the ambulance more times that I can remember, administer drugs as serious as morphine and Valium (not to me, although it was very tempting at times), I've been summoned by the hospital day and night as 'medical emergencies' have been called on my children, I've stood by as they were intubated and transferred to ICU, rapidly declined and bounced back. I've learned to drive a ventilator, an oxygen extractor and a respiratory suction machine, I've dressed wounds, witnessed countless seizures, resuscitated non-breathers and performed CPR. And of course, I've seen death.

So perhaps it's not all that surprising that, as one of Geoff's friends says of me, 'She's battle worn'.

But last week, I excelled myself. Geoff called me just before 9am.

I've got the worst chest pains, it feels like someone's squeezing my heart. I'm just letting you know I'm going to the GP.

Good idea. I said, nonchalantly. Let me know how you go.

Geoff's brother had a cardiac arrest (ie no pulse, no breathing) on the basketball court a couple of years ago and was thankfully revived. At the time, Geoff had some tests and they appeared to be, well, passable. So there was reasonable cause for concern.

An hour later, Geoff phoned again.

They've called the ambulance. I've had an ECG and it's normal but I'm still in pain. They need to do some tests.

Righty-ho. 

I figure if he could talk on the phone, how bad could it be? I had a  moment of guilt and called back:

Do you want me to come to the hospital? 

He knew I didn't really mean it and said no, he'd be fine.

Lunch time. I'm at Di Stassio (a very fancy-pants restaurant for peeps not from these parts) with my business partner and a colleague. 

How's Geoff? enquires my well meaning colleague.

Shit! That reminds me.....I sent a text: "Are you still alive??! x"

He was.

He'd been admitted for more tests and given morphine for the pain, so I swung by with Sass and took a few essentials as requested - PJs, phone charger, book, glasses. We arrived to discover an old friend was his nurse! Oh, we nattered away and had a jolly good catch up - then I remembered why we were there -  Geoff! Sorry - you okay?? That's right - this is supposed to be about you!

Anyway, he spent 3 nights in hospital, had multiple tests to discover he doesn't need a stent, his ticker is just dandy and that it's either muscular or heart burn. So see, no need to panic.

Update on the lethal bag: Customs have refused to let it in. It's gone back to my friend in Thailand. I'm a little bit sad about that...

A stranger - the other perspective

So my last post was about a stranger who was no help at all. But it got me thinking about other strangers who have been enormously touching.

While in Modesto, where George has been airlifted, I went to a T Mobile shop to buy more credit for the phone. The gorgeous girl in the shop - of JLo-like beauty - was fascinated by a tourist in her home town.
'How come you're in Modesto', she asked?
'Oh, we're just driving around in our RV, having a look', I deflected.
'How long are you here?' she asked, again amazed that anyone would be more than passing through. She was so lovely I decided to come clean.
'Actually, our son is in the hospital and we're not sure how long we'll be here', I admitted.
'How's he doing?' she asked, probably thinking broken limb.
'Not great. He's on life support.' Her shock was visible.
'Oh my god, I am so sorry', she offered with sincerity. 'Seriously, if you need anything - if you want to know where to eat or need a park or anything - come by the shop. This is Travis,' she said, introducing her colleague behind the counter, 'he'll be here tomorrow, but I'm here all next week. But if you need anything, please, just call.'

She handed me a card with her name - Angel.