Tomorrow is probably going to be difficult. I am going back to Oxford, to meet the surgeon who operated on Geoff, (whom I have never met) to ask the questions burning holes in my brain, and to hopefully get some answers. It is 3 months since he died, and I am no nearer getting the explanations I need. I put away all the papers and medical notes after I met the consultant here, and concentrated on living, but tonight I have been going through them all again, to familiarise myself with the medical terms, and make sure I know what I am going to ask about. I haven't been back to the John Radcliffe Hosptial since I walked out the door that night, to tell my children that their father had died. My friend, Liz, is coming with me, and she will take notes so I am free to ask the questions.
Between the 2 hospitals, I have been sent about 800 pages of medical notes. What I didn't understand, I have looked up and learnt. Ask me about culture negative endocarditis, or pulmonary oedema, or an aortic valve abscess, or dyspnea, or stenosis, or cardiac failure, or trans oesophageal echocardiagrams. I can give you an answer. I had no desire to know anything about any of these, I can assure you. But now I do. Doctors say one thing, the notes say another, and I saw something totally different. Nothing adds up. Who is right? I have no idea. But I have to find out. And the inquest could take years. They say months, but the ones being heard at Oxford now are from 3-5 years ago. I am not going to even think about that.
Diana is right. Nothing will bring him back. But that doesn't take away the need to know why and what happened, and I owe it to him to find out. It cannot and will not become an obsession, but I understand why most people just walk away. It is emotionally exhausting, not to mention mentally and physically. I am weary just thinking about tomorrow. All I pray for is grace and patience, and a clear mind. And answers that make sense.