They kept me in for two days after the op. Not bad, it was only two days after the major hysterectomy when I felt very unwell and went home loaded with boxes of medication and syringes.
I quickly realised that I wouldn’t be able to take the paintings up to Piccadilly as planned. I would indeed be having a bed rest for some time. Alec, the handsome young editor of Private Banking Magazine who lives quite near, one of my few known neighbours, offered to collect the paintings on the Saturday lunch time and take them up to Piccadilly on his bike.
On Saturday 3rd September Alec didn’t get round to arriving until 3.15 pm. I had just realised that something was wrong; my abdomen had turned hard and looked bright red. I had a fiery pain, and then decided that none of this was happening. It must all be due to constipation. As I opened the door to Alec, I had to admit that I wasn’t feeling too good, it couldn’t really be denied. Then I felt blood running down my legs and saw large spots of it on the kitchen floor.
He went into Boy Scout mode – rang an ambulance, made hot sweet tea, for me as well as him, pressed a towel onto my middle. I had put on a loose summer dress I’d bought to go on my Cunard cruise to New York, for his magazine. It was the only thing to hand and I saw the blue pattern gradually turn dark red. The ambulance arrived within an hour. They were very nice, calming and efficient. By the time we set off it was too late for the paintings. Alec didn’t come with me in the ambulance but I didn’t mind as I was so glad to be going back to hospital where they would sort this out. Of course I didn’t realise that first I had to pass through the Hades that is A & E.