Loneliness Trilogy Bundle Boxset

by Alison Cole

  "I hate waking her, but she has to start taking this medication," I tell Marcus after she takes the liquid. Looking back at my baby in her crib, I watch her for a few seconds before closing her door.

  "Just think - the combination of sleep and that antiviral will have her set to rights in no time. She'll be running around and creating her own special brand of havoc. In the meantime, we need to start increasing our own liquid and veggie intake. How about my special chicken soup for dinner?" Marcus suggests.

  My stomach growls at the thought. "Ooooh, yes, please! Let me check the veggies and see what we have. I would really like some with vitamin C in our soup. Also, we need to separate out a small portion for Lizzie and spice it lightly so she can eat some tonight."

  We hurry to the large kitchen and I go through the pantry and fridge, identifying the veggies for our dinner. Marcus pulls out several chicken breasts.

  "With skin, I think. I'll peel it off, but I think the fat from the skin will do us all good."

  I look into the distance, considering. "I think you're right. We can skim the fat off for Lizzie, but she'll get the benefits." Looking outside, I see snow beginning to fall from the gray clouds. "Marcus, look. Snow."

  "Picked a good time to start falling. We aren't going anywhere. We have the medication, we have food, Lizzie has nappies, so we're all set."

  While the chicken boils on the stove, I practice in a room as far from Lizzie's room as I can get. After checking on her and going to the kitchen to make a quick lunch, Tim calls me.

  "Hey, how's Lizzie?"

  "Knocked out. She has flu and she's started antiviral medication. The doctor gave Marcus and me the same prescription and we're taking it as a precautionary. What's up?"

  "The rest of us are sick, probably also the flu. Laslow's coughing up a damn lung and Linny has a high temp. I just feel like shit. You two stay healthy. Did you just say something about antiviral medication? Don't you have to start taking that right away?" Tim asks me.

  "Yeah, oh no! We're going to miss at least a week of practice! Yes, you have to start taking the medication within something like 48 hours of the first symptoms to get any real benefit from it. Call your doc and have him call the apothecary for a prescription," I suggest. "Marcus is making homemade chicken soup right now. Lizzie will drink some broth tonight, and I think it'll help all of us."

  "Chicken soup. The thought of water puts me off. Okay, thanks. I'll call for the medication and get started on it. Would you do my a huge favor? Call Laslow and Linny and tell them to start taking it as well? I think I'm gonna be..." Clunk. The phone rattles to the table.

  Marcus sees the look on my face.

  "What? What is it?"

  "The boys are all sick, probably flu. Tim just asked me to call Laslow and Linny and tell them to start the antiviral stuff, then he dropped the phone so he could go be sick. Yech!"

  "I'll call Laslow. He's a right bear when he's sick. You don't want his growling in your ear."

  "I'll call Linny. Sandwiches for lunch?"

  "Yeah, that sounds good."

  After we make our calls, we make sandwiches and drink lots of hot tea. My thinking is that, the more fluids, the better.

  Marcus and I continue our work after lunch. Lizzie wakes shortly after we wash our dishes and I give her some warm tea. She holds this down, so I give her more, but her appetite is way off. After changing her nappy, I put her back into her crib and she quickly nods off. The house begins smelling fragrant with chicken soup, making me hungrier and hungrier the closer dinner comes.

  Marcus brings Lizzie to the dining room and he gives her small sips of chicken broth. Before he spiced it, he finished cooking the chicken, rice and veggies, then ladled out some of the broth into a small, plastic container for Lizzie.

  Lizzie is still clearly under the weather, but she accepts the tasty broth - as much as she has an appetite for. She sips cool water from her sippy cup and begins dozing off in Marcus' arms.

  I take her, change her nappy and put her back in her crib, so she can sleep comfortably. After cleaning up from dinner, I look outside at the snow, now accumulated to about five inches. We spend a quiet evening with each other, then my mum calls us.

  "How are you? What's wrong with the baby?"

  "We're fine, mum. Lizzie has the flu, and we're all on antiviral medication. Marcus made his chicken soup so we're battling this on all fronts. How about you?"

  "Your dad is sick. This is a bad grippe, Jo. Don't mess around with it. Take the antivirals exactly as you're supposed to, and hopefully, it'll be lighter if you get it. How many doses has Lizzie had?"

  "One, and she's supposed to get another in about an hour. I'll wake her, give her the medication and let her go back to sleep. How sick is dad?"

  "He's bedridden, coughing, feverish and achy. He was vomiting, but that seems to have stopped. I'm giving him light foods. That chicken soup sounds excellent. What did you put in it?"

  "Tomatoes, celery, potatoes, onion and baby spinach leaves. Fished the spinach out before serving. It was so good, mum!"

  "Think I'll make that for us for tomorrow. I just wanted to check on you lot. Stay healthy and bring my grandbaby back to health!"

  "We will. You stay healthy, mum!"

  "Love you, darling. Bye!"

  Marcus and I wake up in the middle of the night, feeling like death. I lurch out of bed and stumble to the loo, where I am sick. As I go back to bed, Marcus gets up, runs to the loo and he loses his dinner.

  We look at each other in bed.

  "Oh, my God, this is bad," I say with a sigh. "How do you feel?"

  "A train ran over me. I hurt. My stomach is a war zone. You?'

  "The same. My head wants to explode!"

  We take another dose of antiviral medication and try to sleep.

  I'm bothered by pesky fever dreams that feature giant Cara faces and Melanie faces. The noises in my dreams echo and everything looks as though I took a psychedelic drug. I keep waking up, making my sleep ineffectual and not very healing.

  Marcus tosses and turns, muttering to himself. His skin is burning up.

  I wake suddenly, thinking I hear Lizzie crying. Turning the baby monitor toward me, I realize she is crying, so I get up and shuffle to her bedroom. I find her standing in her crib, tear-stained and cranky.

  "Mummy! Bad!" She brushes at her head, trying to bat away...pain?

  "I know, luv. We're all feeling bad," I croak. "Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. You're coming to sleep with daddy and me. We all have the same thing." Grabbing her favorite lovey, I trudge back to our bedroom. I collapse back onto the mattress and tuck Lizzie in between Marcus and me. Eventually, I fall back to sleep, but, as before, my sleep is interrupted by weird fever dreams. Marcus starts when he realizes Lizzie's in bed with us.

  "She okay?"

  "She got up crying and she's cranky. Says she has a headache. I gave her some acetaminophen for that and the fever."

  "How'd she tell you?"

  "She batted at her head. Go to sleep, if you can. The more sleep we get, the better."

  "Yeah. good luck with that!"

  Slowly, the three of us drift off, feeling our various aches, pains and upsets from the flu. Marcus gets up one more time to be sick. While my stomach is still very upset, I manage to keep it from misbehaving again. Instead, I roll over and gently cuddle Lizzie, who occasionally whimpers in her sleep.

  The next morning, the three of us are still feeling ill, though the antiviral medication seems to be taking hold. Lizzie is a bit more lively and she munches on a saltine cracker at breakfast. Marcus and I limit our food intake to hot tea and flat soda. We all sleep the day away - by the end of that day, Lizzie is acting like she feels better, which doesn't go along with our need for sleep. Still, we manage to stay awake and watch over her as she runs around the living room. At one point, she comes perilously close to the Christmas tree, and I have to warn her away.

  She looks at me with her lower lip sticking out and tears
pooling her her big, green eyes.

  "Mummy? Mummy mad?"

  "Darling, mummy's feeling ill. Come here and let's cuddle. It's nearly time for your medicine, anyway." I look at my watch and get up. In the kitchen, I give the medicine to Lizzie, who shakes her head at the bitter taste.

  "Yuck. Bad."

  "No, it doesn't taste very pleasant, but you're feeling better, aren't you, luv?"

  "Feel better?" She is suddenly overtaken by a huge yawn, so I take her upstairs. Running my fingers through her hair, I tuck her into her crib.

  "Night, night, my little girl. You get some more sleep and I'll bet you, in the morning, we'll all be feeling better," I say, hoping it will be so.

  Downstairs, Marcus looks at the clock.

  "It's not even eight, but my eyes won't stay open. Let's take our medication and try to drink some broth," he suggests.

  "Sounds good." We drink some broth and I add some rice to our cups. "I think this will help us."

  "Then, how about some veggies as well?"

  "Not too many. I don't want to push my luck." After we down some broth, veggies and rice, we take our medication, then get ready for bed. It's not even nine, and the Hadley household is dark for the night.

  We sleep better that night, and, in the morning, we actually do feel a little more human. I give Lizzie toast and warm tea for her breakfast. Marcus and I have toast with marmalade and hot tea. I steer clear of voice lessons, instead, drinking bottle after bottle of water, I work on my diaphragm breathing. We take frequent naps during the day - by that evening, we are feeling much more normal. We heat up the soup and opt for more hot tea. I decide to take a chance with Lizzie, who is turning out to be something of a picky eater.

  She takes one taste of the fragrant soup and decides she loves it! I spoon more of it into her eager little mouth, ensuring that the meat and veggies have been finely cut for her. She eats a few crackers, then I put her on the floor, where she plays. Marcus does the dishes and we rest in the living room, watching Lizzie play.

  "Are you feeling better?" he asks. His voice sounds much less affected than it has in previous days.

  "I am feeling better. Still very tired, but much less...sick. I wonder how the boys are feeling."

  "If they've been taking the antiviral stuff and drinking fluids, they should be feeling more human," Marcus says.

  My phone rings.

  "Hello?"

  "Jo? Tim here. Linny ended up in hospital. He's badly dehydrated from too much vomiting. That's stopped, with the help of medication, but I expect he'll be there overnight. Stay home tomorrow and we'll just get back to our regular practice schedule next week."

  "Oh, I hope Linny gets to feeling better. Please give him our love," I say. "I just did breathing exercises and drank lots of water today. How are you feeling? Better?" I ask.

  "I slept a bunch. Drank lots of water and took my medication. I feel like I can eat something, so I'm heating up some chicken noodle and vegetable soup. You just take care of yourself and your family. I'll keep you apprised of Linny's condition. We'll see each other next week." Tim rings off and I set the phone down.

  The next day is the same. We continue to recover from the grippe and Lizzie seems almost normal.

  "Mummy better? Mummy p'ay?"

  "Yes, luv. What would you like to play?"

  Lizzie and I play with two of her dolls. This kind of quiet play is good for her. She's much less likely to develop a temperature this way, so I strive to find quiet activities she will enjoy.

  After a light lunch, we get a phone call from the prosecuting barrister's office, telling us the juries have both returned with their verdicts. I have to tell him that we are all three sick with the grippe and unable to leave the house.

  "I hope you feel better. I will call you and let you know what the juries decide."

  "Thank you. I'll be waiting."

  After lunch, he rings me back.

  "Mrs. Hadley, both juries found them guilty. It's now in the hands of the magistrate. He'll decide what kind of sentence, if any, Miss Wells and Miss Stabb will receive."

  "'If any?' You mean they could go free?"

  "No. Well, yes. They would be required to go into inpatient treatment in a psychiatric hospital. You'll get word about their sentencing hearings." After I asked a few more questions I have, we ring off.

  Marcus and I feel much better, although we are still coughing heavily. When Lizzie takes her nap after lunch, we doze off downstairs in the living room. When we wake up, Marcus decides he's able to get back to work. I stretch slowly and wake up as I hear him typing steadily. Upstairs, I check on Lizzie. She wakes and gives me a big grin.

  "Mummy? How fee'?" she asks with concern.

  "Mummy feels much better, thank you. How do you feel?"

  "Fee' good. Up! Up!" She raises her round little arms, telling me she wants to get out of bed.

  Downstairs, I work on more breathing exercises, thinking of what I could make for our dinner. As Marcus finishes an article and uploads it to his client, I put my hand on his shoulder.

  "What do you feel like eating? I'm thinking of what we could have for dinner. I'm actually a little bit hungry!" I tell him.

  "Flapjacks? Bangers and mash?"

  "Flapjacks sound good, but bangers and mash...ewww! Too greasy. I'll mix the flapjacks. How about some fruit with those?"

  "Perfect. Just one for Lizzie and two for me. I don't want to push my luck."

  "Okay. Small dinner coming up!" I make the mix for the flapjacks and set it aside so I can cut up fresh fruit. We will be having orange sections and apple slices with our flapjacks. Heating the griddle, I pour the mix on and cook our dinner.

  "Lizzie! It's dinner time!" I wait for a few minutes. "Lizzie! Luv, where are you?" I go into the living room and scream.

  "Marcus! My God!"

  Chapter 17

  Marcus runs into the living room after me. We see our baby girl slumped down on the carpet and go to her, shaking her. She's as limp as a rag doll.

  "My God, call the ambulance! I don't know if she's breathing!" Lizzie is pale and the skin around her mouth is a delicate, pale blue.

  Just a few minutes later, the ambulance pulls up, its siren wailing. The EMTs run into the kitchen, through and into the living room. They begin working on the baby.

  "Ma'am, we need to take her to the hospital. Has she had flu recently?"

  "Yes, early this week. We thought she was getting better!"

  "Mum, dad, bundle up and come with us. Have you been ill, too?"

  "All three of us," Marcus says as he gives me my coat. I slip it on as the technicians bundle Lizzie onto a gurney and place an oxygen mask over her tiny face.

  "Let's go. We'll want to get you checked out as well. She may have suffered a complication and we don't want you two suffering the same thing."

  As we leave, I shut off the burner and put the food away.

  At hospital, Lizzie is quickly checked over by the medical staff.

  "Mum, dad, she appears to have contracted pneumonia. We will need to admit her to the Pediatrics ward so she can receive the medication and oxygen she needs. You are welcome to stay - and, in fact, I would rather have you admitted as well. I will check you two out as well."

  As it turns out, I have the beginning stages of pneumonia. Marcus and I are both admitted so I can start receiving treatment. Because Lizzie is so young, we are all in the same hospital suite.

  Before we go to sleep, I call Tim to report the latest happening.

  "Oy. Okay, you'd better stay in hospital and get the treatment you need. I'm glad you told me about this, honestly. I'll tell the boys so they know to watch for worsening symptoms."

  "Thank you. I'll let you know how it goes and when we go home," I promise him.

  "Good. You just take care of yourself and let the docs take care of the baby."

  Once Lizzie receives antibiotics and oxygen, she comes back round and starts recovering. I begin coughing, so I'm put on oxygen and ant
ibiotics. The next day, Marcus develops pneumonia. We are discharged from hospital over the weekend and we go home. We all have inhalers to use when we have trouble breathing. When I tell the doctor about my singing career and our plans for a European tour, he shakes his head.

  "Mrs. Hadley, you're going to need to take a few days to rest. Do you do exercises for breathing?"

  When I nod affirmatively, he tells me to keep those up. "But drink plenty of water and don't push it. If you can't expand your lungs, stay home. When you can, practice, but take your inhaler with you - you will need it for the next few weeks."

  I sigh, thinking. If it's not one thing, it's another!

  "Okay. I don't want to destroy my voice - it's my livelihood, so I will be sure to do everything you tell me. Thank you."

  In the end, before we are discharged, the doctor orders me to use a nebulizer machine as well. I receive my first treatment in hospital, and the loud noise of the compressor scares poor Lizzie. She scrambles into Marcus' lap, hiding her head.

  "Lizzie, I'm sorry, but your mum needs this so she can breathe and sing," says the doctor.

  "Ow! Bad!" Lizzie says as she holds her hands over her ears.

  "I'll take her to the hallway," Marcus tells me.

  After about twenty minutes, I finish my treatment and give the medicine cup to the nurse. I stand, feeling very shaky, as if I had just drunk a pot full of coffee.

  "Whoa! Is this feeling normal?" I ask.

  "Sadly, yes. The medication stimulates you as it opens up your airways. While you're using the machine at home, you'll feel trembly for a few minutes after. It does go away. Here, drink some water."

  I take several long sips of water as Lizzie and Marcus come back into my hospital room. Finally, we are discharged to go home.

  Once home, I tell Marcus that I will only use the machine in our room, away from Lizzie. It truly does make a horrible racket. After putting the machine, medicine cup and vials of medication safely away, we rest in the living room. Now, I know what to watch for and I keep a very close eye on my little girl. This time, however, we experience no health crises. We rest, eat healthy foods, stay inside out of the cold and we finally recover. While Lizzie and I continue coughing and hacking, I understand that it's part of our recovery, and, as I'm able, I resume my breathing and vocal exercises. Tim and I talk, and he tells me that he, Laslow and Linny are all recovering from their bouts with grippe. We discuss possible practice days and decide we'll take things on a day-to-day basis.