The journey to Seville hospital that September afternoon felt like forever. I did manage to add to the anxiety by nearly losing my friend’s dog out the car window! That was a rush I didn’t need!
Good old Google and sat nav got us there in a fairly smooth transaction though.
I found the information desk at traumatology and two things occurred to me: I never expected to one day be asking a hospital where my husband was and yet I was pleased those Spanish classes had paid off so that language wasn’t an issue!
Inevitably we were asked to wait in the waiting room where time stood still.
Before too long a doctor called us out and explained that it had been quite a bad accident and that they were just putting Lee under to further explore the extent of his injuries. They mentioned that blood supply to the lower leg was already a problem as two of the three main arteries that run down the back of the leg had been severed.
They told us to come back in a couple of hours as there would be no news in the meantime.
Anyone who has ever been to Seville will know that the tapas there are superb. However, these were not the circumstances in which I wanted to explore the culinary delights of the city!
The hospital is on the outskirts of the centre in what feels like quite a poor area. There were plenty of bars around though and the tapas were just as good as you would find in the more attractive city centre bars – and probably half the price. But that afternoon I couldn’t tell you what I ate as by then the worry had well and truly set in.
We headed back to the hospital and managed to speak to the same doctor. He explained that Lee was in theatre with a vascular surgeon who was trying to create a bypass from thigh to lower leg in order to maintain the blood supply and save the lower leg. They told me there was currently no pulse in the foot and that there was no guarantee the surgery would work but that the next 72 hours would be critical. The doctor left the room and just as I was processing the information he burst back into the room and said: “oh yes, you need to understand that if the operation is unsuccessful, we’ll have to amputate.”
The words came crashing into my head but didn’t stick as, ever the optimist, I believed I would not need to prepare myself for that eventuality.
Something else I wasn’t prepared for was seeing Lee in intensive care. The unit is called UCI (Unidad de Cuidado Intensivo) and after a lot more waiting I was finally allowed to see him. You know when you see people on TV dramas going in to the room where their loved one is wired up to machines? It’s just like that, but worse, because it’s real. It’s really happening – right before your eyes.
Visiting hours were 08:30 & 18:00 for only 45 minutes. The doctors then gave an update to the families at 13:00 every day. That night I could do nothing more than try and get some sleep at a neighbouring hotel. I had to think about trying to do the best thing for my ever-expanding belly too.
The friends who had brought me up to Seville also stayed the night and we even managed to smuggle their little dog into the hotel via the underground parking and my overnight bag!