About two weeks ago, my grandmother (on my Dad’s side) was taken into hospital. This coincided with my parents going to Japan to visit my brother, and so I’ve had a week and a half of acting as an intermediary, trying to pass messages back and forth. She came out of hospital shortly afterwards, but went back in on Thursday; some internal bleeding, as a result of stomach ulcers from the medication she’s been taking. I kind of hit a wall on Thursday afternoon; my Dad was only contactable through my brother, who wasn’t with them at the time, and the time difference meant getting in touch was tricky when they were together. I was faced with potentially dealing with a very emotionally difficult situation on my own, and I really, really didn’t feel like I could. I spent a lot of time ringing the hospital, trying to find out what was happening and what her prognosis was. They didn’t seem to know much; she was very tired, but they’d stopped the bleeding.

On Saturday, I borrowed Naomi’s car (I wasn’t confident mine would make it), and drove to Nottingham to see my Gran in hospital. She was awake, but clearly very tired and unwell. I gave her some flowers and a card, and we chatted a while. I met Lindsey, her cleaner/gardener/general home help, in the hospital; it was she who’d found my Gran and called the ambulance; she probably saved my Gran’s life. It’s very hard to know what to say to a stranger in a situation like that. A thank-you card seems so trite and such a token effort.

My Gran asked after Dad, and I tried to avoid telling her I hadn’t been able to speak to him; he was landing that afternoon, though, and I was hoping I’d be able to get in touch before I left the hospital. She wanted to talk about what would happen if she died – she promised me I could have her telescope and encyclopedia collection – but I tried to steer the subject away from that – had she heard about the probe they sent up to Saturn, and how they found out that Titan was smooth and not mountainous like they’d thought? Eventually, she fell asleep, so I went outside to see if my parents had landed; they had, and so I explained things to them. My Dad decided to drive straight up to Nottingham from Heathrow; I went back inside. My gran was still asleep; her legs kept fidgeting and she was breathing irregularly, but the movement was, in a strange way, comforting. I left a note explaining my Dad would be in to see her tomorrow, and I’d try and come back too.

I drove down to London; Cathy finished her PhD thesis a few weeks ago and was having a belated party to celebrate. I’ve known Cathy for nine years – since high school – and she’s off to America to do post-doc study soon, so this would probably be the last chance I got to see her before she left. At the party, I was in the minority on two counts – I didn’t have (and wasn’t studying for) a PhD, and I was English – everyone else seemed to be a frighteningly intelligent Scandinavian or Asian of some description. It was a good party, though; I met a lot of interesting people – we discussed Finnish arthouse cinema, argued whether Stevie Ray Vaughan was a better guitarist than Mark Knopfler, and I spent a lot of time explaining that writing computer games isn’t as cool or exciting as it sounds. I took a few photos that didn’t come out terribly well; they’re here, as usual.

I crashed overnight on Cathy’s floor, and after helping tidy up the detritus from the night before, set off back to Nottingham again. My gran had started bleeding again, so was going back to theatre for further investigations. When I arrived, she was still in theatre, so I met up with my parents in the centre of town. Japan was fantastic, apparently – I was surprised, given how much my Dad dislikes Wagamama’s and anime – and they couldn’t wait to go back. They offloaded a few thousand yen, some guidebooks and loads of advice about where to go, what to see and do and eat: I should probably buy some new socks, apparently, as you have to take your shoes off to go in the temples, and all my socks have holes in.

We went back to see my gran in hospital; she was out of theatre, but was still asleep from the anaesthetic. We hung around for a few minutes, but the Doctor didn’t think she’d wake up any time soon, so we left. My dad took my mum back home to Norfolk, and I set off back to Manchester. Apparently my Gran came round a while later, but still seemed to be bleeding; Dad has gone up to see her again today – the doctors think they might have to operate if the bleeding doesn’t stop soon.

It’s been a long weekend; I’m still worn out from it all, I think. I really have no idea what my Gran’s prognosis is, but I feel better knowing that my Dad is able to be with her now. I hope things work out.

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