“We’ll be allowed in, right?” I unbuckled my seatbelt. “Even though visitin’ hours haven’t started yet?”
“I was told she would still be in casualty for a few hours until a bed opened up on one of the upper wards. She’ll probably have her surgery before then, though.”
My heart stopped.
“Surgery?” My voice cracked. “She needs surgery? You never said anything about her having a bloody operation!”
“Her leg is badly fractured, Frankie.” Dr O’Rourke switched the engine off and pulled the handbrake up. “It won’t heal correctly on its own so she needs surgery.”
“What will they do to her?”
“They’ll likely insert pins, screws and a metal plate. That is standard for fractures that need surgical repair. I haven’t seen her X-rays, but the surgery is pretty straight forward.”
I tried to remain calm, I told myself my mum getting surgery was a good thing. It would fix her leg and give her a better chance at her bones healing correctly. I repeated this over and over in my head, but I felt panicky. I needed Risk; we had known each other since we were in reception class, but we only started dating three years ago. He had rapidly not only become the love of my life, but a rock for me too. He never made me feel like a burden with my asthma or anxiety, he helped me through every attack I had and held me afterwards.
He was my person and I needed him right now, to cope.
“Right,” I said to Dr O’Rourke. “I understand, but does she know she needs surgery?”
“Yes, she is aware.”
We got out of the car and hurried into the hospital’s entrance to get out of the rain and bitter cold. I followed Dr O’Rourke through casualty and I was so glad that no one stopped us or asked what we were doing. I needed to see my mum more than I wanted my next breath.
“Just through here,” Dr O’Rourke whispered.
We entered a room full of cubicles that had their curtains drawn. There wasn’t much activity, but I could see a couple of nurses chatting as they sat behind the nurse’s station on the far side of the room. Dr O’Rourke approached cubicle six and I was right on his heels. He dipped inside and I heard Mum say, “You’re back, hon.”
When I hustled inside and saw my mum for the first time, tears came fast and furious. She looked so small and weak in the bed before me. Her leg was in some sort of bandaged contraption. Her beautiful face was bruised and swollen all over and I saw she had gauzes on the back of her right hand along with one on her neck. I felt like someone was choking me.
“Mum.”
Her hazel, doe-eyes moved to me and instantly she lifted her arms and said, “I’m okay, honey. Come here.”
I moved around the empty side of her bed and leaned down into her embrace as I burst into a sob. She put her arms around me, kissed my face and held me, swaying me slightly. She moved her hand to my lower back and began to pat the spot. She was calming me to prevent me from having an attack.
This was a method we found that comforted me immensely when I was a child, and to this day it still relaxed me. Risk frequently did this whenever I was getting antsy or coming down from an attack. Sometimes I hated that I needed this kind of comfort because I wasn’t a child anymore, but I couldn’t help the fact that it was a source of solace for me.
No one seemed to mind it except me, though.
“Don’t be scared,” Mum said into my ear. “I’m okay.”
But she wasn’t okay.
Her leg being injured was just a minor black brush-stroke in a big picture of colour. My mind was revolving around the fact that my forty-six-year-old mother had Alzheimer’s disease. It was something I never even considered in a million years. I didn’t even know it was possible for someone so young to suffer from the disease. It was so far-fetched that it just didn’t feel real to me yet. That really bothered me. I was already terrified and the full weight of my mother’s health hadn’t even had time to settle and marinate in my mind.
I didn’t know what I would do when I had the time to process it.
“Are you really okay?” I whimpered. “Be h-honest with me.”
I leaned back and Mum used her thumbs to wipe away my tears.
“I was pretty sore,” she told me. “The doctors gave me some morphine so right now I feel a little loopy.”
I managed a little laugh as I tried to force myself to stop crying. Mum was going through enough, she didn’t need to see me so upset. I already knew she worried about me constantly, her biggest fear was me being alone when I had an attack.