If you’ve read Steve’s blog post of earlier this evening, you’ll know that my dad suffered a heart attack yesterday morning, but is making an excellent recovery in hospital. Lately I sometimes feel that I’m turning into a reclusive misanthrope, but over this weekend I have so many people to be thankful to and for. In roughly chronological order:
The paramedics who got to the caravan park (my parents were on holiday five miles from home?!) in five minutes, administered clot-busting drugs and got Dad to the hospital.
My colleague who immediately told me to go home (I’d foolishly volunteered to work yesterday, because the office needed to be supervised while work was carried out – a grand total of one workman actually appeared).
Our vicar, who also said ‘Don’t worry, I’ll sort those out’ when Spike phone and explained that he wouldn’t be there to do Intercessions, and I wouldn’t be there to do Sunday School, and has got Dad’s name on our prayer list.
Mum and Dad’s neighbours, on both sides, who’ve offered help and concern, and brought over a cup of milk as all the perishables were still at the caravan, while we were being terribly British and responding to stress and anxiety by brewing a pot of tea.
For the shipmates/bloggers who have offered their prayers, and sent us PMs (those of you reading this, thank you!).
Numerous people at my parents’ church this morning who’ve passed on good wishes, cards, prayers and offers of help. Not to diminish their loveliness in any way, but there is an element of ‘You Get What You Give’, as my dad ever since he retired has always been ready to help with practical tasks and ferry carless people to hospital appointments etc. But generally, I felt pretty well ‘love bombed’ when I got back from church this morning.
Last but not least, my husband, who unquestioningly dropped his plans for the weekend to drive up to Cambridge, pack up the caravan, drive my mum’s car back while she drove the huge 4wd beastie that pulls the caravan, accompany my mum back to the hospital to lug my dad’s overnight bag from the car park, and generally help get everything set up before visiting dad again and then driving us back to London. I’m going to gush now if I’m not careful, but thank you Spike.