An involuntary trip to the hospital. Apparently Europe’s
most advanced hospital. I woke up to a loud bang and “HELP! HELP! HELP!”
resonating from Mother’s bedroom; she had slipped and fallen in the shower –
her head creating a smashed dent in the tiles (which obviously provoked a wave
of nausea for me, delightful drama at 8am). Rushed to the hospital with the
helping hand of our neighbour, who seems to have been our guardian angel since
we arrived. Terrifying experience trying to suppress the panic within me whilst
communicating with the Spanish-English nurses but managed to get Mother seen
quickly. The health service in Spain is extremely efficient, making hospitals
in England a chaotic riot in comparison. The worry passed as I noted Mother’s
attempt to continue working from the waiting room, indicating that she was
still conscious and hadn’t yet gone completely loopy; “Oh god, I need to ring
that man from that company! Honey, get my phone will you? I must talk to him,
it’s 9:30am over there! They’ve started work already! For god’s sake I need to
work I don’t have time for this nonsense!”
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