So... My mum broke her ankle Wednesday. Broke it almost as bad as she could have. Both bones snapped. She had to have an operation yesterday (Thurs) to put pins and rods in... It was bad, in every sense of the word.
I've never seen my mother so scared. It really hit something, and i've been feeling... hollow? since it happened.
She clutched my hand when the doctors had to reset the ankle and put the temporary plaster on... He face was screwed up, her gaze widly scanned the room, trying to decipher what they were gonna do next. I felt helpless... I didn't know what to do. All i could do was hold her hand.
I left her that night (Wednesday) and my sister and i returned the next day after lunch.. We'd been told that mum's op was going to happen approx 7-8am, which meant she'd be out by then. We got there and reception informed us she had just gone in, and we had a 2-3 hour wait ahead of us. We left and came back after she came out... She looked scared, old and in a lot of pain. I almost freaked out. I had my sister with me though, so i got it together..
Mum told us about how scared she'd been, and i got the sense she was downplaying it, which frightened me a bit. She'd never censor herself, not when it was something like this. The nurse came in and asked her a few questions which caught mum out, though. She admitted she'd been "absolutely terrified" and had been freaking out herself. The thing that bugs me is: if we'd been told about the op time, my sister and I would have been there... Mum wouldn't have faced the surgery alone.. I hate that she did. I really do. At least they called to let us know she'd come out and was fine...
She's at home now, looking and seeming much better. She is off her feet for 2 weeks minimum and Erin's gonna have to do a lot more to help out around the house... Should be a wake up call for her. Mum's not there to pick up after her. We'll see what she's made of.
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