One Split Second (19 page)
Authors: Gillian Crook
It was very strange today, because I managed to move one of my legs by myself—I mean move in the sense that I touched it to pull onto the bed because it was falling out, (not that I felt it fall out, I just saw it hanging); so without thinking I pulled it in and it felt really weird, so I left it a while, then I wanted to feel it properly. It was almost like I had been in denial that any part of my body was paralysed, so, I had not touched any part of my numb body; I bent down and felt my legs and they just seemed in my mind, like ‘dead weights,’ and that this is what it feels like to have ‘lumps of meat and bones’ on my body, that are absolutely of no use to me!! It’s really quite horrific… if the skin started to flake off and show raw, bare flesh, it wouldn’t surprise me, and I obviously wouldn’t feel it. Also, it reminds me of when I used to watch my dad in his butcher shop, cutting through fresh meat, and with a sharp knife, slicing it ‘gracefully’ along the bone, until it ‘peeled’ off with such precision, preparing it to sell, like the grand finale… yikes, that gives me nervous yucky goose bumps, this is MY flesh and bones, I’m talking about, eeh! Actually, if I can lose weight and try to get myself feeling good and looking good, I should be able to touch the lower part of my body with confidence, and maybe when I get used to the feel and touch, I may want to ‘share’ that part of my body with the rest again!! Oh God, I miss my CLOTHES, my SEXY UNDERWEAR AND SHOES! I was only just starting to feel happy in ‘my’ skin, wearing my sexy underwear, nighties and negliges, and all my beautiful leather trousers, jackets and lovely tops and dresses, loads of shoes, and hats for every occasion. I was even starting to use a long mirror, and I’d never been able to do that. Who knows, I may well have the opportunity to get it all back one day, but it certainly won’t be in my immediate future. I have managed to get hold of make-up. It’s crazy, but even though I wasn’t sure of the extent of my injuries (and I’m still not), I got panicky, looking for my make-up, and insisting I had to know where it was. I could have nearly died, and I was worried about my friggin make-up! Incidentally, it was my friend Ashley that I met in Derry who had the ‘contruction’ of steel rungs, nuts and bolts, on his head, (he was so funny), who went to the Body Shop in the hospital and bought me some make-up. What a guy! Oh God, I WANT TO BE NORMAL!!
Anyway, on a happier note, Casey phoned and we were talking for ages; she was telling me all about her friends and school and even telling me about various guys that she thinks are showing an interest in her, and a party she might be going to at the weekend, but doesn’t think dad will let her. I told her not to worry and that I would sweet talk him round, even though he ‘sees me coming’. So, Barry came on the phone and he was moaning about how long ‘we’, me and Casey, had been talking and ‘what do we find to talk about for that long’? Bloody men. I told him it was ‘girly things’, and he left us alone for a while. Then he butted in and said he needed to talk to me. Actually, even he stayed on for quite a while, talking to me about baby Jamie (him and Shonah’s baby) and he was telling me that he was 5 months today, so that makes his birthday, 15
th
of May. Oh, really, it took me all my time to curb my enthusiasm! Did he expect me to get excited about that? But, then HE was talking to me about how the baby was sitting up, how well he was developing and blah, baby, blah, bottles, blah, nappies, blah, sleepless nights, blah, teething trouble, blah (get this gist), HE went on for ages, and his enthusiasm was commendable, but why did he feel the need to tell me? In the end it was lovely to talk to them both for so long, and they definitely brightened up my day, but I must admit, Barry talking about the baby for so long, and how he was growing, it did pull at my ‘heartstrings’ a bit, and brought back really happy memories of when Casey and Mitch were that age, and me and Barry were as happy as ‘pigs in nappy shit’! I said my goodnights and then the phone was taken away and then virtually immediately brought back to me, and it was mum. We talked about the day and I told her about my grumpy morning and how the day got better and then about Barry and Casey. Mum said she had sent me a card so I said I would phone her when I got it. Oh, I love them all and it’s a nice way to end the day by speaking to them all and saying goodnight, AND guess what? . . . we never ONCE mentioned my ‘disability’, yee ha!
On a final note… I’m not surprised really, but the docs never came back to let me know the full extent of my paralysis… oh well, nothing new there then, but I’m not bothered tonight. Goodnight to EVERYONE I know and love (and like) . . . nite nite, bon nuit!
I forgot, to mention before, that I have started to acknowledge other patients. Before, I didn’t really want to befriend anyone, because I wasn’t ready to make this my ‘normality’ and I just didn’t feel very sociable, but, it’s hard to keep up an isolated existence in such an ‘open’ and at times ‘riotous’ and ‘too noisy’ environment. So, I was actually speaking to the lady whose bed is opposite mine, which of course, is now my new bedspace by the window, (just in case I failed to mention that before, mmh?); and she and her family seemed really nice; I met her daughter and her son, and they were lovely (I can’t remember their names), but oh my God, they spoil their mum something rotten! Well, I say rotten, but just because I’m jealous that I don’t get lavished with the wonderful, finer cuisine, bought from Marks & Spencer’s! (I love markie’s food hall)! In fact, she hardly ever eats the hospital food, because they bring her in meals and just heat them in the microwave or they have a little ‘hospital picnic’ with dips and crudites, in fact it wouldn’t surprise me if they hadn’t sneaked in little bottles of wine as well (why the hell not, if I had the chance I would!), nah, maybe not!. I’m lucky with my crummy family if I get a sandwhich that even has todays’ date on it. In fact, I’m sure they probably wait and buy the food for me at the ‘reduced to clear’ shelf! Ouch, that’s probably a bit below the belt, but remember the food Tony and Margie brought in, with the eclairs which were already open and half eaten, and from Tescos Economy!! Then, the time that Amy had ‘just picked up’ some chocolate from the service station, because she KNEW how much I like chocolate… problem was, she didn’t realise that I didn’t like BLACK! How very thoughtful Amy, you could only have gone 1 out of 2 ways, and I’m afraid you failed on that count, but 10 out of 10 for finding the right hospital! Mmh, maybe that was a bit harsh! Not! Anyway, back to the patient opposite me. She told me her name is Annette and that she works in one of the Insurance Departments of Legal & General in Edinburgh. Her accident happened in Glen Nevis where she had been enjoying a hill walking weekend with her Rambling Society friends. They were out walking, when Annette slipped and tumbled down what amounted to be a 200 ft gradient. She had to get airlifted to Glasgow, and so far, all she knows is that from her neck down, she hasn’t got the use of her arms or legs! . . . oh my God, I was able to `empathise` immediately. I was talking to her for a long time, and not once did she whinge about her injuries, accident or the hospital; and she went on to explain to me that because she can’t use her hands that, that’s why her children were having to feed her. What an amazing woman. I was looking forward to getting to know her better. With that, I left her so that she could have time with her children before they had to get the train back to Edinburgh.
Well, I’m really bemused and annoyed, because, the first person I actually start talking to properly and actually looking forward to getting to know better as a ward neighbour, is being moved today into the next ward up. I think the further up the ward you go is a reflection on how well you are progressing, and is closer to you getting out… or could it be that it is nearer to the pearly gates?? (how morbid)! It’s definitely not the latter, because—Annette looks far too healthy, and also, she is rather inspiring. I’m going to make time to get to know her, because I think she is here for the long haul, the same as me!
So, now that I’m in my corner, and next to the large window, I can now look outside at the scenery and nonchalantly watch the day go by; lets see, I say ‘scenery’, very loosely; all I can see is a busy dual carriageway, large motorway signs, a row of prefab grey houses and a Lidl!! Good lord, thank you, how picturesque!
Anyway, I have to get over these moods in the morning, and stop being so tetchy and looking for excuses to be miserable. You see, before my accident, most mornings would be miserable, because I would have a sodden miserable hangover, so to get rid of the hangover, and ‘keep my spirits up’ (s’cuse the pun), I would have a ‘hair of the dog’, which would soon turn into a full blown ‘pack of wolves’, which after a time just made things ultimately 1000% worse. So the drill went; take a drink, try drinks, in however many plurals it takes… to black-out, wake up with a hangover… feel like crap… have a drink… (if I had any in, or I would go out and buy enough to keep me going for the day and the next morning). Deluding yourself that taking another drink, makes you feel better and gets rid of a hangover! And such is the start of the downward spiral to hell. All in all, I was in a permanent state of ‘hangover’ and that was my ‘life’!
I am not long out of a rehab, but I had ‘relapsed’, and my drinking before the accident was more of a few days ‘binging’, and then stopping for however long it took to recover. Inevitably, I know it would have led to 7 days non-stop drinking! Who knows, I still might! Please God, don’t let me ever get that bad again!! My goal, at the moment is to repair my, bruised, beaten, neglected… (I’m gonna stop for a mo, I feel like I want to cry), I’m back; ok now; and half paralysed body. Christ, by rights, I hope I still DO have enough ‘body’ parts in good condition, even with the numb ribs and legs, to turn this beaten up old motor into a fine ‘vintage car’—dream on—well at least ‘roadworthy’!
Roddy, the physio, came through to say that Hose, whom I now know and have been introduced to; is a ‘cheeky’ fun 17 yr old lad from Venezuela, who got caught in the crossfire between two rival gangs, and was shot in the back, and now he has the same injury as me. Apparently, he’s paralised from the ribs down, and that’s been confirmed, ain’t life a sodden bitch? Oh god, I’m now getting scared about when I will get confirmation! He was on the prone this morning, so it should be available this afternoon which is fine by me, I’m sore and uncomfortable at the moment anyway.
Gillian, the staff nurse today, has just told me that Mr Templar should be coming to see me shortly. Well, it’s now 2.30 and he just turned up. Good news… the wound is healing up superbly… Great!—Yeah? No! Mr Templar is away for a week, and he will see about the ‘operation’ when he gets back, but then I’m gonna have to go on a different bed called a Clinitron, for 2/3 weeks. Oh God, I will be in my bed for Xmas at this rate—not if I have anything to do with it! Oh, no, pissed off again!
Roddy came in and asked if I wanted to go on the prone trolley and I felt the need to ‘pull myself together’ and said ‘yes’. Through in the gym I met a guy called John, and he was really positive and said he had seen people walk, or at least with crutches, after being told because of their spinal injuries they wouldn’t be able to walk again. He even got me the priests’ number for me to phone if I wanted (I think I need the Pope actually—wonder if he can get the number for the Vatican?) . . . don’t ask me how we got on to religion, but we’re both Catholics. Wow, does that entitle us to some sort of ‘immunity’ from the dreaded ‘paralysis’ of our injuries—evidently not, he’s in a wheelchair? Sorry God, I’m not blaspheming, I’ve just got to stop being so cynical! He isn’t actually any longer a patient, but he lives in Glasgow and is allowed to use the gym occasionally and he also gets involved with one of the charities called Back-up, and said he would bring me in some info, next time he was in. What a nice guy, and he could go on his wheelchair without sides and half a back, (maybe he does have a few connections to the ‘big’ man?) . . . Maybe I will be able to do that when I’m in a wheelchair!
I have obviously got cream on the pages, because I can’t write properly and the pen keeps slipping.
Mum phoned tonight, and I can always tell when she’s ‘had a few’, bless, it’s quite funny, because even though mum talks, it’s not ‘mum’ talking… it’s obviously things that have been said, when the family are having one of their ‘boozy’ discussions in the big kitchen. She had been to Rosie’s for lunch and ‘had a WONDERFUL TIME’ and ‘everything’ she was saying, like, ‘EVERYONE IS COMING DOWN TO SEE YOU SOON AND THEY WERE ALL ASKING FOR YOU’, translates into ‘Windsor’ lingo as, ‘Tell her we hope she’s doing ok, and that will be down soon, even though we won’t be able to—but that’s what she wants to hear… oh and say hi’—sorry guys if that sounds cruel, but that’s true, Or is it just cause I’ve had a shit day, that’s how I’m seeing it? Well, whatever, my wonderful kids phoned and they were just wanting to say ‘goodnight’, so at least I went to bed with a smile on my face; and everything my kids, and Barry says, I know is meant sincerely.
I’m sorry for being such a wingy, whiney, boring, at times resentful… PAIN… in the ARSE? . . . I am not very good company, and I could easily kill at the moment, but then that isn’t so good because it makes me untouchable, and at the moment it feels like my temperament is right up there with FREDDY KRUGER, and I’ve had the NIGHTMARES ON Elm Streets WARD, to prove it!!!!!!!! (oh dear, that last bit of writing was really, really bbaadd!!)
Ok, I think I’ve had one hell of a day, and if I’m sleeping, surely I can’t be slagging anyone off or complaining (not unless I do it in my sleep too), heaven forbid! Please god look after all my family, they know I love them, and when I’m ever out of here, I won’t be shy in telling them that… you can never say it enough—you never know what’s around the corner?!!
Do you know, one day I wish I could wake up with something to get excited about… well, another day, ALIVE, surely that should be enough? Well, I need to ‘buck-up’ my ideas and get some ‘fun’ back in my life… actually, when I think back to my time in Plymund, it really wasn’t always bad, I had some really good times as well. In fact, given the chance, I may have stayed there if it hadn’t been for the accident, and, of course, if I could have ‘settled down’ (by myself, I hasten to add, and my behaviour as well), and got a job? and, NOT DRUNK!! (and who knows what could have happened with the wonderful Alec) . . . who the hell knows! Enough…