Atrial Myxoma
Is what they found out my mum has when they finally did the scans. It's a benign tumour in her heart, and it probably caused the clot which caused the stroke which made her permanently blind in one eye, in the house that Jack built.
We went in for this evening's visit in a bit of a hurry - my dad called when we were about to leave and told us about the tumour and that she was being moved immediately. Obviously as soon as the NHS did the echo thing test today (four days after admission) and found this tumour, they jumped into gear. She was ensconced in a new hospital, one with an excellent cardio-thorassic department, within four hours of them finding the tumour. We got to the hospital before my mum and dad left, and I went in the ambulance with her. We were a small convoy with Mr W and my dad following all of the way.
My dad finally agreed to stay over in the hospital which is a relief because he's insisting he's fine. He's coping fantastically but is clearly in a bit of a state just below the surface; unsurprisingly. Both my parents are completely calm about the whole thing so the other one doesn't get worried. My mum said, in the ambulance, that she can't get upset because it will worry my dad. Admirable sentiment - when I had three stitches in my arm, *everyone* knew I was in pain! And my mum is going for open heart surgery and is still being quite calm. To be honest, I don't think much of it is a front and I do think she's calm about the whole thing. Or drugged, of course. I'll ask her later in the week.
So tomorrow morning we're going to go to the hospital to see her before her operation, and then depending on what my dad thinks or needs or wants we'll either stay until she's safe in the ICU or come home and wait for the jungle drums from my dad, who is obviously staying as close as possible for the duation. She probably won't come around until late tomorrow and we'll know more then.
As I started the day with a mission to get the hospital to do the damn scans my mum needed, I'm happy that they have finally been done. But as the saying goes, beware of what you wish for.
And another saying - be grateful for small mercies. My brother lives up in Manchester, and can't get down as quickly and easily as we can. I think that must be worse - at least we can drive over. It only takes 30 minutes or so. So I'll call him in the morning (my dad has kept him up to speed this evening) and discuss. He's great for googling things. Before we knew what her condition was, my sister-in-law had already worked out open heart surgery took about 5 hours in the US (when the article was written which was last March).
On a lighter note, Mr W won a caption competition in the Telegraph. I'm not sure when it will refresh, but as the prize was a signed copy of the original you can always come over and see it!
We went in for this evening's visit in a bit of a hurry - my dad called when we were about to leave and told us about the tumour and that she was being moved immediately. Obviously as soon as the NHS did the echo thing test today (four days after admission) and found this tumour, they jumped into gear. She was ensconced in a new hospital, one with an excellent cardio-thorassic department, within four hours of them finding the tumour. We got to the hospital before my mum and dad left, and I went in the ambulance with her. We were a small convoy with Mr W and my dad following all of the way.
My dad finally agreed to stay over in the hospital which is a relief because he's insisting he's fine. He's coping fantastically but is clearly in a bit of a state just below the surface; unsurprisingly. Both my parents are completely calm about the whole thing so the other one doesn't get worried. My mum said, in the ambulance, that she can't get upset because it will worry my dad. Admirable sentiment - when I had three stitches in my arm, *everyone* knew I was in pain! And my mum is going for open heart surgery and is still being quite calm. To be honest, I don't think much of it is a front and I do think she's calm about the whole thing. Or drugged, of course. I'll ask her later in the week.
So tomorrow morning we're going to go to the hospital to see her before her operation, and then depending on what my dad thinks or needs or wants we'll either stay until she's safe in the ICU or come home and wait for the jungle drums from my dad, who is obviously staying as close as possible for the duation. She probably won't come around until late tomorrow and we'll know more then.
As I started the day with a mission to get the hospital to do the damn scans my mum needed, I'm happy that they have finally been done. But as the saying goes, beware of what you wish for.
And another saying - be grateful for small mercies. My brother lives up in Manchester, and can't get down as quickly and easily as we can. I think that must be worse - at least we can drive over. It only takes 30 minutes or so. So I'll call him in the morning (my dad has kept him up to speed this evening) and discuss. He's great for googling things. Before we knew what her condition was, my sister-in-law had already worked out open heart surgery took about 5 hours in the US (when the article was written which was last March).
On a lighter note, Mr W won a caption competition in the Telegraph. I'm not sure when it will refresh, but as the prize was a signed copy of the original you can always come over and see it!
posted by Chaya at 11:33 pm
1 Comments:
Congratulations to Mr W and am sending positive health giving coping strategy type vibes down the interweb.
Becks x x x
Post a Comment
<< Home