“Tina James?” a nurse called, and Olivia rose with relief.
“That’s us, Mum.” She helped Tina up, taking her good arm, and they walked towards the doors that led to the A&E ward while Simon stayed in the waiting room.
A few seconds later they were settled in a small, curtained cubicle with a brisk-seeming nurse sitting across from Tina.
“You burned yourself, did you? How did it happen?”
“Oh, it was nothing, it’s so silly,” Tina said, trying her best to sound dismissive. “I was ironing and I touched the hot plate…”
Shock jolted through Olivia at this admission. “Mum,” she said as gently as she could, trying to keep the alarm from her voice, “you burned it on the mulled wine—didn’t you?” She exchanged a questioning glance with the nurse and gave a little shake of her head. What was going on?
“Oh yes…” Tina bit her lip and then nodded. “Yes, that’s what I meant.”
“Let me take a look at it, then.” Tina held out her arm and the nurse examined the angry red burn that had already blistered. “This does look painful,” she murmured with a sympathetic smile for Tina. “I just need to clean the affected area and then we’ll put a sterile dressing on it, all right?”
“I don’t want to cause any trouble…” Tina began and the nurse’s smile deepened.
“You aren’t, love, promise. That’s what we’re here for.” She turned Tina’s arm over and then paused. Olivia craned her head to see what she was looking at. “It looks like you’ve burned yourself before,” she remarked casually. “On your wrist?”
“Oh, that, yes. That was the iron.”
Olivia looked at the still-red mark, her stomach and mind both churning. When had her mother burned herself? And why hadn’t she told Olivia? Of course, her mum didn’t mention every little thing that happened, but the burn still looked painful and two burns in the course of a few days…
“Right, well, let’s get you cleaned up,” the nurse said briskly. Olivia watched, her mind still spinning, as the nurse cleaned and bandaged the burn. “Best if you see your GP in twenty-four hours to have it looked at and the dressing changed, all right, love?” She paused, her gaze moving to Olivia. “I’ll just have the consultant come in for a moment so you can have a chat.”
“We don’t need to chat,” Tina began in protest, but the nurse had already left the cubicle with a rattle of the curtain rings.
“It’s fine, Mum,” Olivia said, trying to sound upbeat. “The doctor most likely just wants to check you’re all right.”
“I know I’m all right,” Tina said irritably. “Honestly, such a fuss.” She half-rose from her chair. “Let’s just go home, Olivia. I really want to go home.”
“Mum.” As gently as she could, Olivia put her hand on her mother’s shoulder and steered her back into the chair. “Let’s just wait and see what he says, okay? You want the best care.”
Tina continued to fret, and Olivia’s own agitation grew as they waited another twenty minutes for the consultant on call to come in. Finally he did, looking far too young and cheerful.
“Hello, there.” He scanned Tina’s notes quickly before sitting in front of her with a kindly smile. “The nurse has suggested you be referred to your GP for a few tests.”
“Tests? I’ve burned myself,” Tina retorted, sounding far bolshier than Olivia had ever heard her sound before. “What kind of tests do I need?”
The doctor’s eyes were kind as he answered steadily, “The nurse suggested it might be advisable that you have a cognitive test. It’s a simple one, done at the GP’s, and it only takes five minutes.” He glanced at Olivia. “If you ring tomorrow, you might get an early appointment or a cancellation.”
“Tomorrow…” Olivia’s mind spun and spun. A cognitive test? What was the doctor saying? She glanced at her mother, whose irritation had vanished; she now seemed to be sinking into herself, her head and gaze both lowered.
“All right, then,” she said quietly, and panic seized Olivia, a visceral clawing of her insides. Her mother looked almost as if she’d given up, and Olivia wasn’t even sure what was going on.
She wanted to ask the doctor about the cognitive test and what it meant, but she was also afraid to. Finally she found the words. “What is this cognitive test?” she asked shakily. “What would it be testing for?”
“It’s an early assessment to check for memory loss and signs of dementia,” he answered and Olivia nearly staggered. Dementia…?
“But my mother burned herself, she didn’t…” She trailed off, remembering how Tina had mistaken the cause of the burn, and a dozen other details besides. How fretful she’d seemed. How she didn’t want to go out. How she’d lost interest in so many things she’d once loved—the shop, baking, bridge, even Christmas.
The doctor must have seen the dawning terror in her eyes for he said gently, “It’s just a test. A check. Your GP can take it from there and who knows, it may be nothing. But it’s important to rule things out.”
Or rule things in? Olivia murmured something in agreement, and then she was helping her mum into her coat and they were walking into the brightly lit waiting room, Simon rising expectantly as they approached him, but Olivia felt too dazed to say anything.
“Everything all right?” he asked brightly and it took her a few seconds to respond.
“Yes…the burn is bandaged. We need to go to the GP tomorrow to have the dressing checked.”
“I don’t—” Tina began, but Olivia shook her head firmly.
“No, Mum. You do.”
Simon was kind enough to drop Tina off at her flat, and then wait while Olivia saw her inside,
