Last night at about 10:30pm, my mum called me from upstairs to say she wasn't feeling well. I came upstairs to find her slumped on the bathroom floor, incoherent from extreme nausea and fighting to keep conscious- I've never seen her so ill, and I was without doubt that I needed emergency help. I made sure she was in a safe position, dashed to the phone and dialled 999 for an ambulance, brought up some water, tissues, a cushion and a blanket, and made mum as comfortable as I could on the floor in the recovery position once I'd checked her out as best as I could- then I phoned my dad to bring him home from his night shift, changed out of my pyjamas into proper clothes, and packed my mum's phone, glasses and a bottle of water into my bag for a possible trip to A&E.
Mum had a sore throat a couple of days ago, but we assumed it'd just turn into a cold like usual. She used to have issues with high blood pressure, and according to Dad she'd had episodes like this before when she got ill, and had been taken into hospital once before, years ago. They found nothing wrong at the time, but I wasn't taking any chances.
Dad came home long before the paramedics came- I waited an hour and a half. By the time they came, mum had recovered herself just enough for us to move her to an upright sitting position on her own bed. I went with Mum into the back of the ambulance while she was checked over, and there was nothing to report. I advised mum to get proper checks anyway, but she refused since she was feeling better. We all thanked the lovely paramedics, and they set off on another call.
Sure enough, an hour later and Mum was barely conscious again, almost on the verge of being sick and passing out. Despite her protests, I called an ambulance again and insisted she go to get proper checks. This time an ambulance came within about ten minutes, I think because the services knew about the situation. With a lot more effort this time, we got mum into the back of the ambulance, I accompanied her to the hospital and Dad followed in his car. By now it was 2am.
Once the various tests were done and ready and a doctor was able to see us (about 6am), there was just nothing to report. Blood pressure fine, blood sugar levels fine, everything medically fine. Nothing to explain how a highly intelligent, sharp woman like my mum could be transformed into a limp mass of incoherent discomfort. The best the doctor could guess was that mum's cough cold and other factors were signs that she had both a bacterial and a viral infection. Thankfully after four hours of quiet waiting (or as quiet as you can get in busy A&E), Mum was just about well enough for us to drive her home. We propped her up in Dad's comfy reclining chair, made her a honey and lemon tea, and tucked her in, where thankfully Mum fell asleep and got some proper rest. I went up and managed to snatch a couple of hours on my flat bed (I had forgotten that I'd use my pillows to prop Mum up earlier and couldn't remember where I'd put them).
This morning Mum's like a different person. She still has a sore throat and nasty cold, but she's not in the same way as she was yesterday. In any case she seems to be out of the danger zone, but I've taken the day off work to keep an eye on her, make chicken soup, provide tea and water etc. I'm not feeling great on two hours of sleep and several hours of quiet panic, either.
I've often wondered if I'd be any good in a situation like this- I always worried that I'd become a useless blob of panic. I didn't even know that I still remembered basic first aid, which I learned about ten years ago at school. When I dialled 999 and spoke to emergency services, I remember hearing my calm voice giving out meticulous details about the situation, and wondering where that steady voice was coming from when inside I was like jelly. I guess I'm just good a faking being calm.
Whilst we were waiting in the hopsital during stupid 'o clock this morning, I joked with Mum and Dad that I could have gone into medicine, if only I didn't dislike people so much.
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