In the Meantime.....

Life carried on.  Simple as that, the turmoil that was going on in my head and everything that was happening; work still needed to be done, I had a full time job that I really couldn’t afford to lose – that in itself was a worry as it wasn’t common practice to pay sick leave, however, my employers decided to pay me full salary for two months from the date of the operation.  It was a starting point and one less thing to worry about when going into hospital. 

Home life too was complicated and problematic.  The fact that my husband was not keen on my new found friendship with Mark and the realisation that I had feelings for him was a major problem.  I would like to say we argued it out and cleared the air but we didnt, he simply didnt argue or fight for anything and because by the point of the health issues he realised it was Mark I wanted to be with and to have with me throughout everything.  Without going into too much detail as it is irrelevant to the health issue at hand; it was something that had to be dealt with. 

On the brighter side of things, I still wanted to carry on and enjoy life, after all, I didn’t know where I would be in six months down the line and the phrase, “life’s too short” certainly took on another meaning at that point. 

My daughter finished high school and had her Prom, to which I was thrilled to be their official photographer.  A hectic night but was such a buzz and I never feel more alive than when I am able to take photographs.  She looked amazing, her dress was stunning and I loved being part of her evening.  I stayed out of the way for most of it as I didnt want to be in her way, it was her evening.  She had such a fantastic time and was so happy at the end of the evening as I took her home, squashed into my little Ford Puma (barely able to drive for dress and net everywhere!) She applied for college and on her exam results got into the college doing the courses she wanted so everything was on course for her.   She was keen to pursue photography like me, although as a career she wasnt sure what context, English, Media and Sociaology, a good mix of subjects that she should excel at. 

Although Mark and I had known each other some 7 years previously, we were still relatively new in our relationship and wanted to be together as much as possible.  We wanted to go out, we took the camera every where we went and took silly pictures, the type that usually end up on Facebook!  We had been invited to a wedding at the end of August and were almost too afraid to plan that far ahead incase I had a call with an appointment, but I went out and bought three dresses just in case!  The disappointing thing being that I had just lost almost three stone and was feeling good about myself, but whilst waiting for surgery, I was put on steroids to bring the swelling down on the spinal cord – frustrating, but as my surgeon said to me when I moaned, “Caroline, I am saving your legs, a few pounds wont matter” – ok, perspective achieved. 

We went on numerous picnics, went to open air concerts and country fairs, we watched movies, walked, talked, laughed, and cried, had people over and had barbecues with enough food to feed an army, even when it rained this didn’t stop us!  I have never filled my days with so much and was determined that when I got out of hospital, we would carry on this life. 

Then the letter came for the 5^th September.  A stay of 5-10 days in hospital and then home – how difficult could it be?  I would be up and about in no time J

I then started planning the practical things; things you don't really want to think about but know you have to.  I wrote letters to people, organised my finances, made sure my “house” was in order and paperwork accessible, and in the worst case scenario, I left details for my funeral.  Even now thinking about that gives me goosebumps.  I wasn’t naïve enough to think that there wouldn’t be complications, when they are working inside your body and moving things about as they would be, there would always be the possibility of problems, either coming out of the surgery and having issues, or not coming through surgery. 

The weekend before the surgery, my daughter went to her dad’s. 
Mark and I went into Lincoln for a meal out, I had a choice of anything but it had to be an Indian.  We ate so much we had to walk up and down Lincoln just to feel ok!  We then drove home, almost in silence because we knew that it would be some time before we could do those things again.

The day I was admitted was a grey and dull, dreary day and should have reflected how I should have been feeling, but in all the time, at the back of my mind I wasn’t worried.  I was convinced I would be ok and this was the start of my recovery.  I cleaned the house (which was already clean) and made sure the washing and ironing were done, in my mind, I wanted everything sorted and done, silly really. 

Mark took me to Sheffield and we unpacked and settled to my new bed.  I was initially on ward N2 where the staff were lovely, relaxed yet reassuring.  I wasn’t over keen on being in hospital, but it was only for a short time.  When he left me, he took my Blackberry with him, you know, that was almost like losing a lifeline!  I had no-one to text, or Facebook or even e-mail – good grief! What a sad nation of people we have become when we need constant interaction via a gadget!!!

The night before I had a visit from the head anaesthetist who went through what was going to happen the following day, it was straightforward; I was going to go down awake and have an epidural in my spine to numb any feeling, I was then going to be anaesthetised in various ways as it was a serious operation.  I knew what was going to happen so had no questions for him, and then he asked me to sign the papers to say that I understood the implications of the operation, the possible outcome of paralysis and also the event of death.  I laughed when I signed it, after all, there was no choice in this really and it had to be done. Ironic really.

Anthems in the Park