They live near to Plymouth so had quite a trek to get to the hospital and didn't have the advantage of flashing lights and sirens.
The phone call came in just as Rob and I were going to bed. I had been holding a Christmas play meeting in the house and Rob had been to guitar club. As soon as the Phone went and I knew it was Jenni, I knew immediately what it was. We both knew that we were in no fit state to drive as it was past midnight so we decided to go to bed for an hour or so, we woke bleary eyed and packed a bag each, to tide us over for a couple of days, I don't think either of us thought that it would go ahead after the last aborted mission to London just a few weeks earlier. We knew that Jenni had arrived at the hospital but had been reassured that nothing would happen for a few hours so we stopped for a coffee on the way to wake us up and have a leg stretch. We reached Hampstead at I think, about 7.30 we had contacted our son Paul in America who had spoken to Jenni to send his love and best wishes and Caius Jenni’s boyfriend has been keeping us up-to-date with what was happening. We had just arrived in Hampstead, literally less than a mile to the hospital but it was rush-hour and the traffic was at a standstill. Caius had told us that Jenni would be going down to theatre and that she was being prepared, at this point I started to panic because I was frightened that I wasn't going to get there before she went down. I spoke to her on the phone and told her I loved her and we will be there as soon as we could. Rob dropped me outside the hospital and I ran to the ward but she had gone. I then had to find the theatre. I rushed to the desk and then saw Caius, so I knew I had missed her and that she had already gone down. The tears started and wouldn't stop. It was sheer grief and sorrow at not being able to hold my daughter’s hand. I wanted to tell her how much I loved her and how fantastic this opportunity was going to be for her future. I wanted to tell her not to be frightened and to be reassured that she would see all of our smiling faces when she came to later that day. I wanted to hold her hand and touch her face for that moment in time when despite all the confidence I had in the team looking after her I was still afraid that I might lose her. I was so glad that Caius had been with her so she wasn’t alone. The nurse came out of the anaesthetic room and told me that Jenni wasn't asleep yet, so I was able to get a message to her and took some comfort in knowing that she knew we were there ready to welcome her back to us.
We waited for 10 hours, pacing, drinking coffee, nodding off, trying to read . We had regular bulletins telling us that the old liver was out… New liver was in…. She was doing brilliantly … She was in recovery … She was in intensive care where we could go and see her.
And there she was, a radiant smile on her face, looking tiny in amongst all the drips, lines, drains and monitors, but that smile, I will never forget. She said ‘I love you mummy, so much and I was so worried that you would be upset that you didn't see me, but I know you love me and Caius was with and I'd spoken to Paul, I was Ok”
We couldn't believe how awake and lucid she was .
It was clear though that she was under the influence of drugs, namely fentanyl, because she was singing songs and reciting poems the most memorable being “I wish I was a glow worm, a glow worm’s never glum, 'cos how can you be grumpy when the sun shines out your bum”!
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