One Split Second (2 page)

Jo was here last Friday, back on Monday and last night (Thursday). When she arrived she was talking rather strangely and trying to force Adam (her 10yr old son) to give ‘auntie juls’ a kiss… he was so uncomfortable and to be honest, Jo was getting on my nerves. Jo, being a nurse herself, found the courage (no doubt from the drink she had sneaked before she had come to see me or even had in her bag), from somewhere, to challenge the nurse about my caffeta (catheter) not being emptied and asking about making sure I was being looked after properly. She went over the top, but luckily Barry phoned, saved by my hubby, at least he is good for summit, even though his impromptu calls are not normally that well timed—normally it’s when I am doing summit I don’t want him interrupting, but that’s another story and not one that’s likely to have me ever worrying about him interrupting ever again! Then she kept making comments about my phone call and I had to ask her to go outside of the room!! God give me strength, I’ve got one pain in the neck at the other end of the phone and another at the end of the bed! Aah!! Barry and kids great! I apologised to Jo about what had just happened but it seemed to go over her head. I then noticed a huge scab and bruise at the side of her left eye… I got bad vibes… at first she said it happened on the Friday, but she had been in to see me and I knew it wasn’t there, so she just made the excuse that she was muddled up. In the end she seemed quite clear that when she left the hospital on friday she was tired, sat on her patio, smoked a few ciggies, got up, felt dizzy and fell!!! I
don’
t
believe it! She was either drinking or got hurt in an argument—I hate to sound so definite and cynical, but this is a lady I went through 6 months of treatment with, got to know as a good friend and I can see right through the facade! Sorry Jo babes! Unfortunately I know what it’s like to be at the receiving end of someone’s violent disposition and a certain Pete springs to mind—wonder what that bastards up to anyway, as if I care—wait till he hears about my accident and I know he will cause he hears everything about me… he can’t stay out of my bloody business, even when he followed me all the way from Berrytown to Plymund by asking for a transfer from his work, he still wouldn’t take the hint, a massive 500 mile hint
and
knowing I was in rehab!? I didn’t want to know a womanising, sleazy, lying, conniving, cheating, jealous, posssessive and violent creep! Actually, he seemed quite nice at first—don’t they all? So, back to Jo. She was very jittery and I really think she is drinking and driving. She isn’t eating at all and
she
seems to be making an issue of it at the moment, i.e., sending out ‘sublime’ signals for help.

I was expecting Jo in tonight and she hasn’t arrived yet. Very unusual, she has never let me down once when she’s said she will be coming in—I’m gettin quite used to Jo making a ‘nursey’ fuss, cutting up my salad and checking my caffeta which I bloody hate! Oh, she just arrived!!

Well she seemed ok tonight, so lets give the subject a miss. She is trying hopelessly and so unconvincingly to make me believe that she
is
happy (and I didnt even ask!)—the lady doth protest too much me thinks. She seems to enjoy doing things for me and having our chats—she has
no
friends! Also, now I’m doing my usual, I can sort out everyone else’s problems… and being in that mindset asked her to phone Joan, my best buddie in Plymund, to make sure she was ok? One thing I have realised is that the words ‘best buddies’ and ‘love’ get brandished about too easily, especially in which ever AA or NA crowd you happen to get involved with, or at worst, with both! Saying that, they were usually only used by us girls to get out of Viewfield (rehab) for the night, any excuse… some of the girls even went just to spend some time in male company and you would have thought they were going clubbing instead of an AA or NA(alcohol/narcotics) meeting.

Anyway, Joan has been a great buddie to me, what I
would
call a best buddie and
genuine
people are hard to find, and now I know, I’m careful… I even try to `vet` the docs, nurses and even agency nurses if I don’t know them, crazy! Anyway, I hope Joan gets in touch soon. My accident hit (scuse the pun, and it hit me harder, boom boom), her really bad and then something happened with Tammy (her close friend from Viewfield, in for drug taking since getting involved with a violent partner). Tammy had taken an overdose and phoned Joan to tell her what she had done! No wonder she feels depressed and is now craving—dangerous!!!!

Well, as for today, I do feel strong but I don’t want to get used to this bloody pain in my back and chest. Since Saturday last week I have felt like I have a metal plate pulled as tight as it can go round my bare chest under my breasts, and when I move it rubs against me like a huge `chinese burn`. Though I did see the pain doctor and he has given me `something` to see if it works. They have tried an ECG and VQ scan—whatever is wrong with me, noboby seems to know—good eh? Even my injuries from the accident couldn’t be straight forward; not just a broken back and spine, I had to go the full hog for the `extras`!

So, Angela, one of my lovely sisters, phoned today and got pissed off cause she couldn’t get through without a struggle, to the switchboard—oh dear, that’s her year spoilt! We talked for quite a long time. Angela and me get on really well and always have done. She talked a lot of sense and insisted I spoke to the Head Matron or a doctor!

I also spoke to my geordie pal, Toni and explained that it’s crazy that we don’t have a phone for people to phone in, especially relatives, and that something should be done—risking my back every time I try to move to use a stupid bloody pay-phone, that doesn’t take incoming calls!!!! Scream! I was really pissed off but kept my cool—the phone belongs to the High Dependency Unit! Jesus—so what the hell are we then!! AND just whose running the shop in this bloody place? . . . a bunch of friggin half-wits, thats who! I beat them with every stupid reason they came up with for us not having our own, but eventually we compromised by them agreeing that they let me use the phone at night to phone Barry and the kids, and in the morning to phone Mum!? lets see if it happens—it’s 8pm now and I asked for it at 6.30. I can wait… (only cause I’m gaining more ammo—smiley cocky face)!

Also, spoke to Tom Gregson, my ‘surfing surgeon’, who spends more time in the waves than in the theatre, and I explained, (as if he didn’t know), that I would be horiziontal for 5 weeks this monday… initially he had agreed that if I stayed on my back for 6-7 weeks he could re-assess the situation with regards the Op because at that moment there were too many other injuries that needed to heal naturally and they don’t want to risk damaging these, by performing any major operation, . . . . in other words, everything is gonna have to heal naturally, even I know that it only takes 7 weeks, supposedly, for the back to heal, suave lying git! He knows there ain’t gonna be an Op! (and so do I).

Well, today we talked about moving to proper spinal units. Stanmore in Essex had been an option and I said that because initially, it would have been 2 weeks waiting to go there, how could it happen when it was now 5 weeks on. I honestly get confused with all the talk of having to spend 7 weeks on my back for it to heal and talk of going on to rehabs when I’ve just come out of one? What the hell REHABS are they talking about?? Don’t ask me why but it feels like he always tries to hoodwink me, and I fall for it—oops, I feel quite woozy, I get that quite a lot and my writing is getting smaller and smaller, hold on? . . . I’m back, and I’ve told him I’m going to stick to my guns after broaching the subject over summit he said… there is apparently a special spinal unit in somewhere called the Great Western (I think, but isn’t that a railway?) in Glasgow, so I asked if I could be put down for a place there? he was reluctant cause I hadn’t spoken to Barry, and he explained that I could be in the spinal unit for 6 months to a year, and once committed to that unit, if I got a place it was final. He said to think about it over the weekend and he would speak to me Monday. I haven’t spoken to Barry about anything like that yet, but, I am gonna go for Glasgow. Who do I have in Stanmore apart from Barry and the kiddies visiting? his family?, once in a blue moon and his only family now is his brother and niece (and we never see them anyway) plus, if I did see them it would only be because they would feel obliged!! That may sound harsh and ungrateful, but even in my whoozy state, I know it’s the truth and if I DID go to Scotland, the children could spend holidays and any other times that Barry could manage to take them up, and I know they would love it, and the children are the most important people in this decision. Let me think,—at least I
know
my family in Scotland. They are not the most reliable bunch, but I would feel more comfortable with the ‘devils’ I know rather than the ‘white witch’ element on Barry’s side!! sorry Barry! oops! my pen just slipped… I’m gonna stop for a break now, feeling tired and giddy… oh God, these blooming pages are falling out of this makeshift book… they are never gonna last the test of time and neither am I!!! Good night my beau children, love you so much, and now you are gonna need dual passports cause mummy’s moving to scotland!! he he! more morphine please, maybe not!

Today is another day, oh, got my hair washed, isn’t that sad? . . . happy because after 2 weeks I got my hair washed!, but then I suppose to be fair they did have to let the stitches on my head heal properly before they could wash it, otherwise I may have herbal essence seeping into my gaping wound then floating around my brain, and if the advert is to be believed, by rights I could have multiple orgasms—actually, that could be fun, imagine—hair washed, high on morphine and multiple orgasms without any guy!! Yes, Please! Handy when there ain’t one around. I love guys, don’t get me wrong, but I think it’s gonna be a long long time till I can even think about the rumpy pumpy (stolen from Blackadder)! All this relates to an advert so lets hope I know and remember what I am talking about when I read this back!! Plus for the record, up until ‘the incident’, I enjoyed a good sex life! mmh!

I’m losing track of the flippin days, but I know one thing today… I’ve got hold of the phone, he he—and I have the number of the hospital that they want me to call in Glasgow… hold on! just got it, ok, concentrate and sound as if you know what you are talking about cause I don’t know the first thing about spinal thingies. Well, just spoke to a nurse called ‘Louwry’—I don’t think that’s right, I can’t remember—miserable cow anyway, so I don’t feel bad about being tetchy and short with her. After I came off the phone to her I phoned Barry and when I eventually got through it was his ‘girlfriend’ Shonah who anwered so we exchanged a few pleasantries and then Barry came on in one of his ‘can’t be bothered’ attitude moods. I wondered how long it would take until things started to get back to normal—and now I remember his nagging ways and realise that I really don’t like ‘normal’. Our conversation confirmed my views about my rehab… I am definately asking to be referred to Glasgow. After explaining my reasons for going there to Barry he showed no interest and virtually told me to do what I felt was right for me… I actually think he seemed a bit put out when I explained that I would feel isolated in Stanmore, whilst only really having him and his family to rely on for visitations and support. I also pointed out that he could be moving further north himself soon! Apparantly Shonah was supposed to be moving up to Haringey after the baby was born? As soon as I mentioned reasons for going to Glasgow I could feel the sarcastic overtones coming into play, and then when Angela was mentioned he couldn’t help himself from making a comment, saying, ‘oh, yes she would know someone in that particular hospital in Glasgow, probably even the chief consultant of that very spinal unit, she knows everything and everyone’!! Oh my god, he is so sarcastic, and just a bit of a shit!! That really pissed me off and I got quite upset and I actually told him that what he said was nasty and unfair and he retorted, ‘you know I don’t like most of your family!!’. I had to tell him I was upset and had to go, flippin asshole! He totally distracted me from even asking to speak to the kids! I put the phone down and then realised that I couldn’t leave things like that so I phoned back—he answered and insisted he said nothing to upset me! Some bugger is pestering me for the phone. Barry really seemed to have no understanding of how nasty he had been—maybe I interrupted him and Shonah having a ‘quickie’ whilst the kids were out and the baby was sleeping?? Meow!! So, I’ve decided it’s time for numero uno to try and cope independently, not switching off completely from Barry but just speaking to the kids. Reality has sort of hit home! He has his life and I have mine too! He can sort out all the business matters. Oh God, I feel like I’m beginning to rely too heavily on Barry. Will speak to him tomorrow. Now I am really pissed off because I can bet he isn’t sitting feeling like shit about the conversation earlier, oh no, he’s probably finished his quickie and tucking into a full English! I can only think that maybe he doesn’t want me to go to Scotland because my family seem ‘all willing’ at the moment—but I’m sure he thinks they may not be like that when I get there. Maybe Barry cares sooo much, he wants to look after me himself—yeeha! fun times ahead with me and my wheelchair, Shonah, him and the baby, ha bloody ha!! I don’t know—maybe I should emigrate? or just lay off talking to Barry so much at the moment. He was even getting tetchy about Tom Gregson, my surgeon, for not phoning him back—can’t win—he just likes to moan!! Anyone would think he was my next of kin? . . . unfortunately I just checked and he is!! God, I’m tired, fed up and need a rest and a huge shot of friggin valium!! c ya in a mo, when I come out of my stupor!! . . . my paper has just torn away from the top, oh no, this writing paper is no use… I have asked countless people; Marie, Barry, Angela, Roselyn and Amy, for a hardback book, but nothing to date. I’m stuck in this bed not asking for much and even behaving and not annoying anyone (today anyway), and still they forget things. Same way they promise me a mobile phone that never materialises (another story), yes, time to learn to fend for myself and get and do things I need for myself. Oh, God I feel tetchy and tired. Hopefully things will seem better in the morning. To say I feel like shit is an understatement cause amongst one of my many deameaning tasks, I think I will have to ask a nurse to ‘clean me up’—nappy needs changed!! God, Why Me? . . . . I hate this, I hate this, I hate this! . . . does anyone understand? . . . I bloody hate this! I might be back…