Happy Birthday Mumsie!
Getting to the Big 8-0 was not without drama, however. On August 3, eleven days after my dad died, Mumsie felt a terrible searing pain, called 911, and went by ambulance to the local hospital who correctly diagnosed a dissected ascending aorta -- a tear, basically, in the part of her aorta closest to her heart. L&M Hospital called Lifestar and Mumsie got air-lifted by helicopter to Yale-New Haven Hospital.
Mumsie is very dramatic.
Billy, Kelly and I drove down, and Mumsie was in surgery. Six hours later she was out, but "not out of the woods" yet, which are not exactly the comforting words we were looking for. The surgeon was great, though, and the staff was fantastic, and for the next 2 weeks and 2 days -- 12 of which Mumsie spent in Cardio Thoracic Intensive Care -- one or two or three of us made the trip down to Yale every day, and watched Mumsie slowly recover.
Last Thursday -- August 19 -- Mumsie got sprung and checked into a rehab place right here in New London -- where she was also the last 2 weeks in July, rehabbing her brand knew right knee.
Very dramatic, our Mumsie.
But make it to 80 Mumsie did, and we celebrated in high style yesterday, with cake and candles and champagne and presents that Mumsie specifically asked us not to bring.
We're a defiant group.
We unloaded coolers and baked ziti and salads and dishes and silverware and glasses at Beechwood -- Kelly and Sue had decorated earlier.
Charlotte -- Mumsie's great-great-niece, over with her family from England -- was a fabulous helper.
Mumsie felt the best she had, she said, since July 15, the day before her knee replacement surgery.
And Kelly, over there on the right? Worked her fingers to the bone for this bash.
Plus, I told Mumsie if 2 of our parents had died within 11 days of eachother, I would have killed her.