Creamy cajun prawn pasta

No posts for the past couple of days, I’m sorry. As Facebook friends know, it’s been a difficult couple of days.

In the early hours of Thursday morning, mum woke me, sobbing and nearly incoherent with pain. I gave her some painkillers and after a while the pain eased off and we both went back to sleep. A few hours later it happened again, so I called 111 (the UK non-emergency medical advice line), and they sent paramedics to check mum out.

When they arrived it was still dark and I had just downed a shot of extra-strong instant coffee with sugar (which I would never usually put in coffee, but I needed the energy) to counteract having been woken at quarter to five. The paramedics checked mum over and, as the pain had once again subsided, they decided mum would be OK until a GP could phone. Mum went back to sleep. I didn’t.

A few hours later mum’s pain increased again so I called 111 back, and this time spoke to a slightly snotty doctor who told me to take mum to A&E (with a strongly implied “why haven’t you done so already, you fool?”). Four and a half hours later we had confirmation that mum had a UTI and that that was what was causing the pain. They gave mum some intravenous antibiotics, then sent us home.

Having been out two days in a row, I slept until nearly lunchtime, and woke to find mum still in bed and in pain. As the afternoon went on, the pain increased until my question “should I call a doctor?” got the response “I don’t know – maybe?” rather than a vehement “no”, which told me that a doctor was indeed needed.

So back to the hospital we went. This time we waited for over five hours – so long that the catering team brought round tea and biscuits. We only needed foil blankets to complete the air of a post-disaster shelter, with much the same level of camaraderie developing in our corner, where another older lady and her carer daughter and a younger bloke with a broken arm and a severe case of the munchies (I’m implying nothing, or maybe I am) formed a cheerful group while we waited.

The doctor, when we saw him, enquired a little frostily whether I was asking them to do all the tests from the previous day again to see if they had missed something. He defrosted somewhat when I assured him I was perfectly satisfied with the diagnosis but mum needed some more effective pain relief, then melted most of the rest of the way when he discovered that the previous day’s medical team had sent mum home with no pain relief at all.

One blood test later, we saw the doctor again for a prescription of Oramorph for severe pain, nausea tablets to reduce the side effects of the cocodamol mum’s taking for her headaches, and some stronger antibiotics. Mum gave the doctor a grateful kiss on his bald head on the way out, which melted any remaining frost completely.

We got home at 10.30pm, which to mum was very late indeed. By the time I’d done mum’s meds, my meds, got mum to eat at least a piece of fruit, and drunk a cup of decaff coffee, it was nearly midnight, which is a little late even for me. 🥱

Today mum is back to complaining about everything, which was at first a relief, after her recent silence, but quickly went back to being a frustration. A friend popped round to see how mum was getting on and I mentioned (perhaps a touch tearfully) how disappointed I was – and how hurt mum was, when she remembered – that not one other member of mum’s church had bothered to contact mum in the past year. The friend agreed, and headed off to a church event to “kick some bums”, as she put it.

Then we went out to plant some bulbs, taking advantage of the holes dug in the garden by a wandering badger¹ and hoping that our resident rat² won’t eat them before they have a chance to grow. Mum sat outside with me while I planted, then very kindly vacuumed up the soil I trod through the house as I was more concerned with not falling than with wiping my feet like a decently civilised person. 😳

The triage nurse at the hospital yesterday told mum very firmly that she needs to eat more, so I abandoned my plan to cook jambalaya, which mum tolerates occasionally because she knows how much I like it, and instead did pasta with some of the flavours of jambalaya: chorizo fried until it released its fat, then green beans and prawns direct from the freezer, then a bit of cajun seasoning and a splash of cream once the prawns were defrosted and starting to change colour. Stir through hot pasta and serve.

Mum ate a decent sized portion, which is a real relief as she hasn’t eaten much at all over the past few days. She didn’t even object to the presence of chorizo, which she despises in principle (i.e. if I tell her it’s there) but quite likes in practice (i.e. if I don’t tell her it’s there).

Now mum’s feeling better enough that she reacted with genuine surprise when I mentioned her problem with headaches. (“I don’t get headaches. Do I?”) She’s watching Strictly quite happily while I polish off a generous half of a chocolate brownie intended for four, and occasionally sneak a glimpse out of the back door at a nearby fireworks display, until mum complains about the noise and I slink back inside. Until next time. 🎆

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1. I know the culprit as our neighbour got some photos of it doing the same in their garden. ↩︎
2. Which I should really try to deter with some repellent, but won’t because mum and I agree it’s just so cute. 😍 ↩︎