“You’ll never guess where I am!”


Indeed, I didn’t. It’s been a hectic couple of days which resulted in my sleeping on my own last night because Hannah was in hospital.

Yesterday was the day of the eye operation to laser the pesky retinal veins that have occurred as a combination of Hannah’s diabetes and pregnancy growth hormones. This operation is the one that had caused ructions between anaesthetists and the ophthalmologist who was doing the surgery; and it continued yesterday. Apparently the ophthalmologist was most unhappy to find Hannah ready for a pre-med (a little something to make her relaxed) and said he would never have agreed to such a thing and wouldn’t undertake the operation if she had a pre-med. To me he sounds like a bit of a drama queen, but on previous visits to the eye clinic with Hannah he seemed quite normal. That lot got sorted, and Hannah was off to surgery.

I was at home during all this, having dropped her off at day surgery at 7:30am and left her with Barbara. The first I heard of all this was just after lunch with the opening statement I’ve used in the title, which I’ll come to later.

From Hannah’s account the surgery was no fun. Her tale includes the words hook and spring and eyelid so I don’t think I need to go into anymore detail to suggest horror. During this her BP went skyrocketing and went through something/100+. Also she had very bad oedema (swelling) of her ankles and face. This caused some alarm bells and they called in a midwife to check on the baby. She wasn’t too happy so once the eye surgery was over Hannah was taken over to the maternity ward. There they did some trace (I’m not sure what) which I think measures foetal movement and/or heart rate. These results didn’t cheer the clinical staff, so they decided to keep Hannah in for observation, including 24 hour tests and plenty of blood samples. The vital measure from the bloods in this case was the urate level.

So I got the phone call at around this stage. Well, before then actually, and then a slightly later one from Barbara to tell me she had been admitted, though Hannah didn’t know it yet because she was asleep (well needed rest, plus pain relief). I was stuck at home with work, with a meeting to phone in to with my second line manager, so I couldn’t go for a couple of hours, and it all sounded well in hand with no immediate worries and Barbara was there. Once I was done, I packed up a bag for Hannah and went off to the hospital. I met Barbara in the car park in order to exchange some donations for her charity shop.

Then I had to get into the maternity ward. This is tricky for first timers because it is behind a locked door. You have to spot the correct sign, amongst many others, that gives instructions to use the phone and the right number to call. While trying to work this out, a queue of people also trying to get into maternity built up until someone pointed out the sign. I called and got let in (each other person in the queue had to request to be let in separately). One of the midwives showed me to Hannah’s room (she had a single room to herself) where she was asleep, something the midwife remarked on. By now, Hannah seemed mostly fine, and the BP measurements taken since arriving in maternity had come back down to normal levels. We spent some time chatting and stuff, and Hannah paid up for the Patientline TV service. I spent the evening there, apart from a trip to Sainsbury’s to get provisions. A blood sugar low was all the excitement of the evening, along with another foetal heart check, which was fine. The midwife we spoke to at that point said that what had been seen on the trace earlier was not that unexpected for a 31 week baby. Really all they were keeping Hannah in for by then was to complete the 24 hour tests and in case anything dodgy came back in the blood screen.

So despite the drama of the operation, which included the BP cuff popping off Hannah’s arm and shooting across the room, the day ended with only routine analysis to be done.

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