Super Gran

by Patsy Collins
^{(creative writers at http://www.morewriting.co.uk)}

When I first discovered I was going to be a grandmother, I ran around telling everyone. Yes, I do mean ‘ran’ and ‘everyone’. If I spotted a neighbour in the street, or a colleague in the corridor, I’d rush after them and tell them my news.

Of course, I did know they weren’t quite as excited about the idea as I was, so I tried to ensure I only showed the same scan to the same person a maximum of three times.

No, honestly, I wasn’t really that bad! All my friends knew how happy I was though and there was plenty of teasing.

“All right, Grandma?” the office junior would ask. “Need any help with the stairs?”

E-mails offering Zimmer frames and stair lifts were regularly forwarded to me.

“Hiya, granny-to-be,” my best friend would say when she called me. “Fancy coming out for a glass of stout and a couple of Sanatogen?”

Listening to them, you’d have thought I was seventy-five, not (just) fifty-seven. I still don’t know who put me on the mailing lists, but my junk mail started to include far more adverts for mobility scooters, denture fixatives and Saga holidays than it ever used to. None of that worried me. I just knew I was going to be a fantastic grandparent.

The children (I was none too secretly hoping there would be several) wouldn’t be dumped in front of the TV. Oh no! I’d take them over the park, play football with them, teach them to fly kites and ride bikes. We’d build sandcastles and go for walks. Maybe we could learn skateboarding together? That wouldn’t be for a year or two; first I’d be there for my daughter, Sara, during her pregnancy and in those first few exhausting weeks after the birth. I remembered from my own experience just how tiring it can be getting used to a new baby. To be honest it’s even worse once they’re toddlers. It certainly was for me. It didn’t help that that’s when my thyroid problem started. Absolutely wiped out I was. That’s all sorted now, thanks to daily thyroxine tablets and a yearly blood test. No trouble.

Where was I? Oh yes; my plans for taking care of Sara and the baby. Full of excitement and energy, I rang up and asked, almost pleaded really, what I could do to help.

“If you’re really determined to help, there’s plenty of decorating to do,” Sara said. “You could help with painting the nursery.”

I booked a week off work, packed and drove up to her place. I insisted she put her feet up as much as possible. Looking back, I see I rather took over. I did all the cooking and cleaning for Sara and Mike. They didn’t seem to mind.

“Any chance of a proper roast with Yorkshire puddings, Mum? A lemon meringue pie would be good too,” Mike suggested.

Whilst they were at work, I stripped the wallpaper from the room that was to be the baby’s. I sanded down woodwork, filled small holes, fitted window locks and painted on the primer. When I wasn’t decorating, I was out shopping for organic vegetables and baby clothes. Several evenings I took myself out, to give them both a bit of space. It was a busy time; tiring but fun too.

“You’ve been brilliant, Mum; a real help. Would you like to come and stay when I have the baby?”

“I’d love to, if you want me?”

“We do. We’ve talked about it and it’d be great to have you here,” Mike said.

By the time I’d driven myself home, read my mail and watered my house plants, I was ready for bed – and it was only just after nine! It was almost as though I’d stopped taking my thyroxine; I felt so lethargic. Thinking it was due to nothing more than returning to an empty house and the promise of a full in-tray at work to look forward too, I headed for bed. At the top of the stairs, I felt breathless.

A good night’s sleep didn’t help much. I was still feeling sluggish the following morning.

“You OK, Grandma?” the junior asked. “You look a bit pale.”

“Fine, thanks, Sandy. Just had a busy week, at my daughter’s. I’ve been helping decorate the new nursery.”

“I should have guessed it would be something baby related!” she said, laughing.

Over the next week, my energy levels didn’t improve. Everything seemed such an effort that after work I just slumped in front of the TV. Maybe I had a bug, I thought. If so, I’d soon get better. It wasn’t a bug and I gradually got more and more tired. Walking up stairs left me out of breath and on a few occasions, I thought I might faint. Two weeks later, I realised whatever was wrong wasn’t going to clear up on its own and I made an appointment to see my doctor. Actually, I only put it off that long, because I was a bit worried he might just say it was my age. For the first time, I started to feel like a grey haired, walking-stick-wielding grandmother.

The doctor was sympathetic. “It could be a worsening of your thyroid condition, but I don’t think so. We’ll take a blood test to make sure and test for other things at the same time.”

He asked about my lifestyle, eating habits and general health.

“Do you have any chest pains or palpitations?”

“No, nothing like that. I get breathless, but it’s not painful. Mostly I’m just tired and don’t feel like making any effort. People have said I look pale.”

“You do a bit.”

He asked me to stick out my tongue, looked in my eyes and took my blood pressure.

“I think you may be anaemic.”

“I don’t see how. I eat a good diet, not just some red meat, but plenty of green vegetables, fruit and all that.”

He nodded. “That’s good. We’ll know more once you’ve had the blood test. The nurse can do that for you now and we should have the results in a week. I’d like you to come back and see me then.”

Sure enough, the nurse took a few samples of blood. I made a provisional appointment, phoned to check the results were through and went back to my doctor.

“The good news is that I know what’s wrong and it’s easily treatable,” he said.

“That’s good. Do I take it there’s some bad news?”

“Some. Perhaps I should explain your condition?”

“Please.”

“As I thought, you have pernicious anaemia. All the other tests were fine. Your thyroid function is being well controlled and everything else was negative.”

“Good, so do I have to live on spinach and liver?”

He smiled. “No. You’re diet isn’t the problem. You are eating enough B12, but your body isn’t making use of it.”

“B12? I thought anaemia was lack of iron.”

“No, although that can cause anaemia. Anaemia is either a lack of red blood cells or less haemoglobin than normal in the blood cells. The haemoglobin and red blood cells are needed to carry oxygen around the body in the bloodstream.”

I knew I needed oxygen in my blood, but wasn’t sure why I didn’t have enough.

“So where does the B12 come in?”

“Along with iron and other vitamins, it’s needed to keep your bone marrow healthy.”

“Right. Bone marrow is where the red blood cells are made. So, I just need to get some B12 tablets and I’ll be OK?”

He shook his head.

“Not tablets, injections.”

“I’d rather have tablets doctor. I’m used to taking them already; one more wouldn’t make much difference.”

“Tablets won’t help.”

“Oh. That’s right, you said I was eating enough B12 anyway. If there’s enough of it, what’s going wrong?”

“Antibodies are being formed against your intrinsic factor, this stops it binding with the B12 and so the vitamin cannot be absorbed by your body. It’s due to an autoimmune disease.”

“Can you explain the science bit again – slowly?”

“Sorry. Normally when you eat foods containing B12, the vitamin combines in the stomach with a protein called intrinsic factor. That is made by your own body in your stomach and then it’s absorbed lower down in your gut. In your case, the antibodies that usually attack bacteria and viruses are attacking either the intrinsic factor or the cells that make it.”

That was starting to sound familiar. “Isn’t it something like that which is causing my thyroid problem? Is this connected?”

“That’s right. Your thyroid disease is another autoimmune disease. Pernicious anaemia is more common in those who already have another autoimmune disease.”

I thought I understood, but it was a bit complicated.

“So, the B12 is there, but because of this disease, it isn’t being absorbed in my gut. That means my bone marrow isn’t making enough red blood cells and that makes me anaemic?”

“Exactly.”

“So, the B12 injections mean I get the stuff direct, without having to absorb it?”

“Right again.”

“Will I need them every day?”

I didn’t fancy that at all. One of the girls at work is diabetic and has to inject herself. She says it’s OK once you’re used to it, but I’d rather not have to do it.

“No. You’ll need quite a few to start with. Six in fact and they’ll be just a couple of days apart. Once you’ve built up a good supply of B12, it will be stored in your liver and you will only need to have a top up every three months.”

“Oh, that’s not so bad. Is that it?”

“That will fix the anaemia and you’ll soon be back to your old self, but …”

“Here, less of the old. D’you know, I was wondering if this was all ‘just my age’?”

“It does usually start over the age of fifty, but I agree you’re not old and soon you won’t feel it either.”

“Thanks. You said, ‘but’.”

“Yes, there is some bad news. Having pernicious anaemia does make you more likely to develop stomach cancer. Because of that, it’s important that you don’t ignore regular stomach pains or persistent indigestion.”

“OK, I’ll make an appointment if anything seems wrong. How likely is the cancer?”

“There is about a four in a hundred chance of you developing it.”

I nodded whilst I took that in. My thoughts went to my daughter and the baby.

“Is this hereditary? The anaemia, I mean.”

“It does tend to run in families, but that doesn’t mean your family are certain to develop it. Women are most often affected and as I said, those who already have an autoimmune disease.”

Of course, I got the injections. I didn’t fancy the idea, but as it turned out, they weren’t really much different than the blood tests. Almost immediately, I started feeling better, it was amazing. I had another test to ensure everything was OK. It was. I’ll now need an annual blood test to keep an eye on things. That shouldn’t be a problem though, I can have it done at the same time as my thyroid test and one of the top ups for B12.

Anyway, I can’t stop to chat. Sara’s baby is due tomorrow and I’ve got a final bit of packing to do. Mike asked me to make a soufflé, so I’ll need my proper dish to cook it in. I need to find my rechargeable screwdriver to fix up the stairgate I’ve bought. My gardening things are already packed as I’ve offered to sort out the flower beds and make sure all the plants in crawling range are child friendly. Well, I don’t want to sit around in front of the TV the whole time I’m there!