Worry, that's what I usually
do when I'm ill. Then again, it's not so much what we worry about, but it's
what we do when we are ill and also what we do not do. What we do is minimise
the illness or try to wish it away. What we do not do is think of putting
ourselves first, we do not prioritise our emotional and physical health, rather we put it on the back burner just to keep going and wanting to give our best. We sometimes forget a happy mum will raise a happy child.
These were the thoughts that flooded my mind as
I logged off work, lunchtime on Thursday to get ready for the taxi I had booked to take me to the
hospital.
I do not have the data but I'm certain most
single parents (especially those as stubborn as I am) waste time in getting themselves to a doctor to be seen when they
are feeling poorly. With six million things to do in sixty minutes, we do not
have the luxury of taking time to get that nagging headache checked out or why
we have lost our appetite and not eating as well as we used to. It has to be
something more serious to get us to make an appointment or in my case, being
nagged by family or friends to go get checked out.
That was my story in the run-up to Christmas
2016 and all the awful memories came back as I settled into the back of the
taxi. I smiled at the driver and confirmed which hospital we were headed to. I
was on my way to visit a friend of mine who had been hospitalised with Covid
and who unfortunately also had other underlying health issues. She too, a single parent
who will pass off every symptom as nothing until almost hanging on to life by a
thread, nursed her illness until she had to be rushed to hospital. Thankfully,
she is getting much better with the fantastic care she's receiving.
I was taken to this same hospital in 2016, almost kicking and screaming if my body could have managed that, instead I begged the nurses and doctors working on me that I had made no
alternative plans for anyone else to pick my kids up from school and had to leave. My brother
was on the other side of town, I wasn't even sure he hadn't travelled for work
and I also happen to be the type to want to do it all on my own. I USED to
despise asking for help.
That, I will point out is a no-no for single
parents, yes be wary of accepting help but don't let pride stand in the way of
accepting it from trusted friends and family. You need it. We all need it.
I stopped acting silly about taking help when a
friend said if I was too proud to accept her help she'd stop asking me for
help. I changed then though in my defence my deep sense of distrust also comes from childhood
experiences.
During my illness, I had minimised the chest
pains I was experiencing for as long as I could and after not getting much sleep and unable to lie
down or breathe properly for a few days, I decided it was time to have it
checked out so I made a stop at the walk-in after dropping my little ones off
at school. Within minutes of being checked, I was told they'd need to ring for an
ambulance to get me straight to the hospital, I said I only needed painkillers
and probably antibiotics and I'd be fine as that wasn't something I was expecting at all. The nurse said no, that I was very unwell and I was tachycardic, that barely registered even though the
word sounded like something I would have heard on Holby City, I didn't
know what it meant and didn't really care. All I wanted to do was get out of there, my phone battery was almost out, I did not have my handbag and... my kids?!
I did not want to go to any hospital, I'd been
ill for weeks and it could only be a chest infection following the cold I had just recovered from or so I thought.
I remember the nurse holding my face in both her
hands, looking into my eyes and said "please, we need to get you to the
hospital as soon as possible".
It hurt to breathe in so I thought to myself, ok, maybe
just go, so I nodded.
The ambulance soon arrived and before I knew it,
I was being wheeled out of the walk-in into the ambulance.
Looking back, I honestly know it took a miracle for me to have survived those last few days at home before getting myself to that walk-in, the doctors said as much. I hate
being away from my kids, I don't care if they are with family or not, I just
don't like it so I carry on regardless of pain and just got on with everything else. I was
out of a job at this time so I was mostly stuck indoors which made it harder
for anyone else to know what was going on with me.
I remember crying all that night in the lonely
and quiet hospital room after speaking to my kids who had now been picked up from school and were safely with
family. I prayed and prayed to God to get me back home quickly as I got poked
with needles and got hooked to different tubes, I tried to summon strength to
make it look like they were fussing over me for nothing. I did not fool anyone. I was diagnosed with pericarditis and a heart valve anomaly that
wasn't life threatening but something to be aware of.
Luckily by late evening of the next day,
probably after annoying everyone that came into my hospital room by asking them
the same question of when I was able to leave, one of the consultants almost
reluctantly discharged me. He said he'd let me go if I'd agree to follow all the
(strict) advice on what to do and how to use my medication. If I didn't, I'd
end up back with them and they'd keep me in for longer. I nodded, promising to do
everything he said.
I remained bedridden for the next one month,
recovering from not only pericarditis... but chickenpox. I had returned home
that night from hospital and found my daughter had contracted chickenpox. I
caught it the day after I finished my course of antibiotics, it was hell that
I'd not wish on anyone!
As I was directed to the room my friend was in
after donning protective gear, I felt only compassion, yes the worry of Covid
as well but she needed me and I was so glad I was able to be there for her. I wanted her to know her kids were doing ok and there wasn't anything she needed to worry about other than getting better.
Most of us feel too proud to be seen as imposing
on others or hate the idea of anyone thinking we are not up to the task of
raising our kids by ourselves and need help. The truth is sometimes we need
help and there is nothing wrong with asking. It will only make our lives and that of our kids easier.
I don't hold out on facing reality in making
plans for different scenarios especially when it comes to the children. Plans
have to be in place. Never leave anything to chance when it comes to your kids,
they are far too precious.
Make friends in your community, local church or
your own place of worship if you attend one.
Be visible in your kids school and befriending
their friends parents isn't such a bad idea, I made some great friends just
because our kids attended the same school and were friends and we bonded at the kids birthday parties,
school events or community events.
Be accessible to other parents needing help and
support as well. Give as much as you know you can ask of others.
Above all remember anxiety and worry does nothing,
they only become an extra load you'll need to carry.
Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares
for you.
1 Peter 5:7 NIV
I'll leave a link to a charity below for single parent families where you
can find useful resources, advice and practical support for you and your family. Regardless of where you are on the map, there will be something you will find useful on there.
https://www.gingerbread.org.uk/
Love always
Ige
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