Community Ladies coffee morning, only a few ladies, summer has the community working hard and we only catch up now and again, but we could sit outside!
Five young men having breakfast on the beach, kayaks drawn up on the sand, plates of scones and banana loaf, lattes and cappuccinos fill the table.
A reporter from the local paper looking for a story, catching M and I as we bustle past with coffee and pots of tea, some quick pictures, then we’re off again.
Customers in and out, quick sales - a book here, some wine glasses there – good weather means good business.
A lovely busy morning…
As we wave goodbye to the last departing guest and settle into the lull over lunchtime, M says he’s just going to sit down for a few minutes. The man has been going all morning, we both have but he has done double duty so that I could grab a quick cup with the ladies before they left. I’m making us a lunch snack when I hear him on the phone and something makes me stop what I’m doing and go through to the office…my husband is sitting there, his normal healthy colour now a grey shade of putty and he’s wet, sweat sticking to his brow and dark patches on his shirt!
He’s already called the doctor and taken the spray kept for such emergencies. I race to close the shop – no time to bring in chairs and tables, plants and tools, just the signs and lock the door…. a “gone to the doctor” sign for afternoon customers hurriedly taped to the glass. Into the car and we’re off – in this remote part of Scotland, it can take an ambulance two hours to reach you, better to get to the surgery half an hour away and wait for the paramedics there!
The pain is getting worse, he can’t talk, just concentrating on every bend of this road we now know so well, thirty minutes might as well be three hundred minutes, who knew the road was so long, but we make it. At the surgery, oxygen mask on, drugs are given, needles put in, and ECG read, the ambulance comes, more drugs and finally the pain is down enough to move him – the paramedics strap him in, I climb in beside him and we’re off on the long, winding, single track road to the nearest town to what our paramedics call a cottage hospital. When did this road get so long, so bumpy? The paramedic is great, making sure M’s stable and quietly (calmly) chatting to us both about everyday things all the while keeping an eagle eye on the machines monitoring blood pressure and heart rate, but the oxygen and the drugs are doing the work and the pain is manageable now. Into Emergency at the hospital but they won’t keep him; another ambulance is summoned and we’re off to the ferry across the Clyde to the big hospital. Four hours after the first phone call, my precious husband is finally admitted to the intensive cardiac care unit…
Hours later I’m in a taxi racing to catch the last ferry back. M is in a small ward with professionals at beck and call, resting and mercifully stable. Three hours later, (12.35am) when I finally get home and call the ward, he’s sleeping…
Lives are changed; turned around, lost in a heartbeat…I’m so grateful mine remains much the same. Oh, there will be changes to be sure…but nothing we can’t handle because we’ll be changing together…
So much to be grateful for...
