I had intended to post the next exciting instalment in the 'How It's Made' series over the weekend but I was rather overtaken by events.
Saturday was a really lovely day, sunny and warm, so we headed off down to the seafront with Small Dog for a walk along the promenade. That done, we set off for home and en route I had a sudden awful feeling of foreboding as if something bad was about to happen.
No sooner had I shaken it off and tried to dismiss it as nonsense, than my phone rang. It was my daughter, ringing from hospital, where she had been admitted for emergency surgery for a badly inflamed appendix. She was in the Emergency Assessment Unit, and having been assessed, was 'nil by mouth' and prepped for surgery, which she was assured would be done early evening.
However, a serious road traffic accident then took priority, so she was put on hold, pumped full of morphine and antibiotics and kept in EAU till midday yesterday, when she was finally taken to theatre to have her appendix removed.
I am well acquainted with the concept of triage, and prioritising limited resources on the basis of clinical need, and the mothers of the RTA victims must have been even more stressed and worried than I was, but when your child is sick and in pain, it's very hard to maintain a balanced, reasonable viewpoint.
Thankfully her surgery went well, the offending organ was removed and she will be discharged from hospital later today to rest and recuperate.
I could do with some rest and recuperation too after a stressful weekend, unable to be with her, and relying on telephone updates from her partner throughout. Worrying and wishing there were something, anything, I could do to help. You never, ever stop worrying about your children.
So my odd feeling of foreboding was borne out. I won't be so quick to dismiss them in future...