This morning felt a bit dark, or perhaps bleak is a better word.
For those of you who have spent time on a children’s ward, I suspect you already know that time passes under different laws here. An hour feels like a day, and a day feels like a week.
After a night spent sleeping on my recycled park bench, after an evening spent tweezing my eyebrow hairs for fun, my back and energy levels were fried.
Let’s face it, if I felt shocking, my poor daughter, 48 hours post op on thirty minute checks from the team, must have felt pretty shitty too.
The day we were entering into felt hard. Every time I tried to help mobilise my little (big) girl, I felt like I was making the pain worse, and for the first time in a week I saw her crumble a little.
(Side note: how much of a flipping warrior do you have to be to make it to two days after a full Hip replacement to have a little cry. I’ve cried on schedule every 3-4 hours, she held out till full days had passed.)
After an emotive getting dressed for the day session, I walked to the parents lounge for my third complimentary tea of the day, and attempted to have a word with myself.
“You have been here before Pettit, she will keep amazing you, she has got this, do not let miserable in.”
Imagine the sight – a 48 year old woman in glasses that I am told would suit Elton John better, and kitted head to toe in Highland Cow lounge wear, muttering aggressive positive affirmations to herself.
It worked tho, or the extra sugar I plopped in my tea gave me the boost I needed to not be a grump, and to crack on.
Since then, the day has gone from strength to strength.
We have got in and out of bed three times, been for a shuffle with a walking aid. Had a whizz round the hospital corridors in a wheelchair, had a mildly terrifying moment when we tried to navigate a door frame with a wheelchair and a walker – but were saved by a kindly fella. Plus I am up to seven cups of free tea, and two bowls of Co-Co pops.
And I make no apologies for it.
This morning, even moving in bed took effort for her. This afternoon, we were told a therapy dog was downstairs, and she manoeuvred out of bed, walked to her wheelchair and made it down to meet Rio, a black lab as old as the one we have at home.
As said at the start, the hours feel like days, but in the days that have made up today – it feels like we have achieved incredible feats.
When I say we, I mean her. I’m simply a bit part in this movie.
Tomorrow there is a chance we may make it home……
Bring on some more miracles.