067 - Chapter 67

Chapter 67: Mr Figueiredo

(Illustration: Macular degeneration)

Following on from that last chapter, there are many people in our world that do care about others!

One doctor, for example, Consultant Ophthalmologist, Professor Francisco Figueiredo at the Newcastle Eye Centre, Royal Victoria Infirmary, was my mam’s ‘saviour’ and miracle worker, (i.e. alongside Jesus of course).

Many years before, when she was in her forties, one of mam’s eyes was severely damaged following an eye operation, by an allergic reaction to atropine, and from that time on, the cornea of her eye was covered by a white membrane of scar tissue. This made her feel self-conscious and embarrassed, and in many of our family photos, you can see her looking away rather than look ‘full on’ at a camera, which was a shame as she was a very attractive lady. At one time, she’d been told that the scar tissue damage was so severe that nothing could be done about it, but now after years of medical research and new technologies, she was being told by her consultant, Mr Figueiredo, that in her early eighties, her sight could be restored! 

Of course there was a risk, but after a family discussion, she decided to go through with the double whammy of a corneal graft and a cataract operation. Had it gone wrong, her eye would have been replaced with a false one.

Bob and I were at Sarah’s in Maidenhead when we heard that a cornea had become available which was a perfect match for her. Which thoughtful person had made sure that someone else would be able to see when they had passed away and no longer needed it? 

We left straight away, having just heard Sarah’s baby’s heartbeat with special sonic apparatus that Sarah had brought home from her surgery.

Mam’s operation was the very next day, she was to be the third patient in, and it was all stations go to get the house ready for her return to our home. I stayed with her until she was taken to the operating theatre and then waited nervously at home for news, praying like mad for her, until she was brought back from the theatre. The operation was said to have been a success, but we wouldn’t know for sure until the next day.

That next morning her bandages were due to come off, and I remember running along the hospital corridor at 8.30 a.m. to be with her, and there, by her bed, stood Mr Figueiredo grinning like a Cheshire cat. He had mam’s bandages in his hands, as they had only just been removed.

With joy on her face she whispered to me, “Sheila I can see!” The wonder of it all!

Wow, it was like a story right out of the Bible, but this time it was modern medical procedures that had brought about her healing, (I’m sure prayer helped too.) In fact medicine and prayer match very well together if truth were told.

But what a joy, to be there at that very moment!

Bob and I brought mam home, to see to her after care, her many drops and ointments, and also the many incoming telephone calls enquiring after her. We then took her away for a while to the caravan with us. All this had occurred unexpectedly slap bang in the middle of Joan's retirement from her position as priest in charge at St Basil and St James in Fenham; and she and Alan had already booked a well-deserved ‘retirement’ holiday abroad . 

When theygot back from their tour, they took over, and then we shared mam’s care between us.

Family visited of course, and when Luke and Katie were dropped off, they helped look after her. Katie at the age of two helped by taking her hand and getting her to lie down for her afternoon nap. Our grandchildren were both so gentle with her, and mam loved that. She enjoyed watching their ‘school play’ with me, their jigsaw puzzles and listening to the stories they were being told.

Mam adored Mr Figueiredo. She had to see him regularly to have her stitches examined every few months after her operation. It was a lengthy process, and patients waited for hours on end to be seen to, and the relief was palpable when a patient’s name was called out. But when it was mam’s turn to go in and sit on the ophthalmic chair facing Mr Figueiredo, I would look on hoping that she wouldn’t pucker up her lips for a kiss, as he leaned in to examine her eye! She was like that with everyone who came up close to her. She was always wanting hugs and kisses.

Years later, following her much improved vision, she developed macular degeneration and had to have injections directly into both eyes, then later just one eye when the other was no longer fit for purpose. At the age of 94, when she was sitting in her wheelchair beside Joan waiting for her injection at the RVI, Mr Figueiredo entered and recognised her. He came over immediately to ask after her health, he knelt down in front of her, and of course she got a big hug from him. It made her day. He was so wonderful with her.

Thank God for doctors like him, and for all of our NHS staff and fellow workers, who are so much respected and appreciated today.