I had been admitted to hospital because I could not walk.
I was so bad I wasn't able to bathe myself and I needed
a wheelchair. My daughter often came to visit me even
though she was working and had my granddaughter to
look after, but she would make the effort to come,
nevertheless. My ex-boyfriend would have made the
effort to come and see me, but he lived so far away. But
he is a good man.
I remember the doctor telling me I had nearly died,
and if it hadn't been for my daughter calling for an
ambulance, then it might have been too late. I had been
staying at my daughter's house when I had collapsed,
and the next thing I remember was lying on a hospital
bed. I couldn't even remember being taken into the
ambulance. I felt no pain, but I was sweating, and I
wanted to move, but the surgeon insisted I stay in bed.
To make matters worse, this had occurred during the
early hours of the morning, so my daughter had to return
home so she could get ready for work.
My daughter had not been allowed to come into the
hospital when I had been admitted, but she returned the
following day and came into the ICU to see me.
"Mom, what have they done to you?" she said.
There was still blood on the sheets, and there were
needles lying in the drains.
I could see my daughter's face that she was hurting
for me, and I felt for her, too. I felt numb and sick. After
the operation I was taken to a side room where I was put
into bed and given intramuscular pain killers. The pain
could be severe at times, and the doctors and nurses
would come to see me regularly although I was only
allowed visitors when I was feeling up to it.
I was put in an intensive care unit and therefore I
was only allowed minimal visitors, and I wondered if I had been like any of the nurses who were taking care of
me. Even people from church came to see me. I could
not move for a while, confined to my bed and a
wheelchair, it took a long time for my brain to engage
with my feet.
My ex-boyfriend did not come to visit me for
months, which was sad considering I had initially been
fighting for my life. He could be helpful at times, but he
was not there, and I missed him dearly. I knew I had to
get better and therefore I had to help myself if I was
going to get out of here. I tried to walk as often as I could
or would be allowed to. I didn't want to be confined to
hospital any longer, but I was still unwell and not ready
to be discharged.