PINS AND NEEDLES

Well, was up until 3am Tuesday night face-timing with anaesthetists and doctors and Terri and listening to Peg in her cubicle in the ER, doped up on morphine, talking all about cousin Turid in Norway, who sadly is no longer with us, and hasn't been for some time, but was all Peg wanted to talk about, how Turid would come to England all the time to "see her boyfriends", which I strongly doubt, as Cousin Turid, a passionate nature lover, came over as far as I know to do walking tours in Scotland and the Lake District. Anyhow I could get no sense out of Peg whatsoever so stopped trying.

The doctors said Peg had two choices: an operation on her broken hip immediately, or spend the rest of her life immobile in bed in a lot of pain. The op, however, was "very risky", as she might not survive the anaesthesia, her heart was only functioning at 10%. They did not technically NEED my permission they said, because my mother was still "very rational" and capable of making her own decision (yeah right, as long as it was about Turid coming to England to see men), but I said fine, if it were up to me, I'd go for the op. 

So they operated. And put 3 pins in her hip. That was on Wednesday, day before yesterday. The day I had chosen to take my first break in months and escape to London to see girlfriends, which I did, but it was all punctuated by email updates from Bonnie or face-time calls from Terri and me leaping up from a table in a restaurant to go stand on the street in traffic noise to find out what was happening in Pittsfield. 

And what was happening in Pittsfield seemed to be Peg in a hospital bed surrounded by a stream of admirers (9 at one count) all laughing and joking and having a whee of a time. (An audience! Finally!)  In any event, she would appear to be suffering no pain and no side effects and in fact, and I quote, is "rather enjoying it all!"

In fact enjoying it all so much that my birthday, once again, escaped her notice. She can remember fans' birthdays, incidentally, and fans' daughters' or sons' or third cousins' by marriage birthdays, but not mine. I mentioned this to her once. 

"I always remember what's important to me!" Peg snapped back. Which pretty much says it all.

Never mind. Physio came yesterday, got her up and walking, and the plan is they will send her home next week.

My favourite part of all this are all the messages of congrats pouring into me re: Peg's survival, saying "This must be the best birthday present ever!"