The First (and hopefully last) Emergency Back Home (Part One)

In February I encountered a situation that I wished I never would, neither in Iceland nor the UK. I finished work, got home, put some rice on the stove and sat down while the rice was cooking. Then I noticed a missed call from my aunt and a text which read 'Lol call urgently!' (Lol being the nickname my family use for me). I tried to remain calm thinking it must be something to do with a distant relative or a family pet or a small crisis everyday which is easily amended. I called back to hear my aunt crying, the first words out of her mouth were 'Lol it's really bad, your mom's been run over and it doesn't look good. She's in a coma and you need to come home.'

It took a few moments for her words to set in. My mom is fine, she's always fine. I'd been in the UK 6 days before and she'd waved us off at the airport. She's a very strong woman and it's impossible that she's in a coma. There'd been a mistake and somehow my family had been made to believe it was true. I put the phone down and called my boyfriend. 'I know, Lauren, I know. I'm on my way.' were the words that I was greeted with. When my aunt hadn't been able to reach me she'd called him to let him know. It was starting to feel real. In tears I walked to my room mate who immediately wrapped her arms around me as she asked what was wrong. She reassured me that everything would be fine and made me a drink. I grabbed my phone to contact my boss, panicking that returning home would mean that I would lose the job I'd only worked in for one month.

My aunt called again. She told me that her and my uncle would pay for flights if I couldn't afford it. I couldn't. It was a relief not to worry about that.

I loaded up my laptop to look for flights, none of them left that night. The cheapest flights left in the afternoon the next day, I worried that I might not get to her in time. My uncle called and told me that it doesn't matter how much it costs, just to take the one that would get me there the fastest. I found one to Manchester, unable to get a direct flight home, and I would get the train from the airport.

My boyfriend arrived and my flat mate very kindly went out to bring us chocolate. We started booking a flight, only to get stuck at the payment page. We had all of my uncle's card details, just not the security password. My aunt and uncle's phones had both lost signal and I couldn't contact them. Frustrated and worried that the flight will sell out, I contacted my cousin to ask if he knew the password. He didn't but immediately send his card details to me, he's a student so this was a major act of kindness that was very appreciated, fortunately I managed to contact his parents before resorting to his card. The flights were booked.

We went back to my boyfriend's house to collect some things and decided to stay the night, his brother would drive us to the airport in the morning. That night was agony; waiting for phone calls, checking my phone for updates and sleep never came. The morning finally arrived and the weather outside was awful, I prayed that the road wasn't closed. The drive was terrifying, every so often the car would hit a puddle that covered the windscreen with a huge wave; blocking out all visibility for a few moments. We eventually arrived at the airport and I burst into tears - I didn't feel strong enough to make this journey home.

The 2 hour journey felt like the longest flight I'd ever been on; every minute I worried that I would receive a call saying that I was too late. We got to Manchester and I got held up at passport control; I looked suspicious with tears falling down my face and struggling to catch my breath so the guard didn't know whether to let me through. Another guard behind him asked if I was okay and I shouted in her face 'No I'm not f*cking okay there's a family emergency and I need to go now!' She nervously giggled and told me that everything will be alright and I responded that it wasn't at the moment. The guard who was holding my passport froze in shock and without saying a word I ripped my passport from his hands and stormed through the barriers. We jogged to the train station to catch the train, I was worried that we'd miss it due to being held up at passport control. The ticket machines weren't working properly and we had to join the long line to get tickets. We missed our train by 1 minute. The next one wasn't for an hour. I cried for most of that hour and most of the train journey, constantly worried that each minute could be my mom's final moment.

Finally we arrived to Birmingham New Street where my uncle picked me up. He prepared me to see my mom and explained that everything looked scary but all of the tubes and machines were there to help her.

I finally got to the ward after and exhausting journey. My mom had just been sent for another scan and I couldn't see her for another 2 hours...

The last photo of mom before the accident, she's seeing us off at the airport

I'm trying to raise money to frequently visit my mom during her long recovery, I would really appreciate any donations and please share the crowdfunder if you can.
Loppy x

You can donate here...

Read part two here...

Read part three here...

Read part four here...

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