The Trouble With Words: a heart-warming romantic comedy

by Suzie Tullett

  A part of her couldn’t blame him. She hadn’t exactly made things easy for the both of them. Firstly, she wanted to kiss him and then she didn’t. One minute she wanted his baby and then a few weeks down the line, she didn’t want that either. And still too in love with her deceased husband to even contemplate a new relationship, suddenly she was on the phone telling Dan she’s ready to give things a go. Who in their right mind would consider taking a screw ball like her on? Despite his apparent conviction, obviously not him.

  To think only an hour or so ago, Katy and Rebecca had been celebrating with her; relishing in the fact that this was a new, exciting chapter for all of them. Katy was getting increasingly serious with Oliver, Rebecca was looking forward to having her baby, and Annabel was, at last, starting to engage with the outside world which, according to her friend and sister, was all thanks to Dan. They’d been right of course. As much as his influence had scared her, as much as she hadn’t wanted to fall for him, Dan had been the one to coax her out of her over-protective shell. A place she now wanted nothing more than to retreat back into, something else this man could take credit for.

  ‘Yes, cheers, Dan,’ said Annabel. She held up her glass in a mock toast before taking a long, hard swig of wine. ‘Cheers for nothing.’

  She looked up at the ceiling. ‘I should have listened to you and your coin, Tom. Not that bloody woman and her flowers.’

  She began to feel nauseous and realised that she needed to eat; Annabel told herself that there was no point in letting good food go to waste. She got up from her seat and, after dragging herself over to the cooker, picked up the oven glove and took out the casserole. With a bit of luck it wouldn’t be too spoiled. Annabel lifted the pot lid; sadly she’d spoken too soon. Her carefully prepared meal had all but dried out.

  ‘Pizza for one, it is then,’ she said.

  She sighed. Having thought things were about to change for the better, pizza for one seemed to be the story of her life.

  24

  Dan sat in his car, its engine was still running. He didn’t know how long he’d been there, but it must have been a while. He’d noticed a few people parking up, disappearing and, after a time, making their return. He’d even garnered the odd strange look. Yet still, he just sat there.

  Trying and failing to gather his thoughts, he realised he was being selfish, she had to be wondering where he’d got to by now. He also knew that he couldn’t stay in his car forever. Whatever lay ahead, he had to face up to it at some point. However, with his mind all over the place, every time he tried to move his heart began beating so fast he thought he might throw up. If this roller coaster of a ride hadn’t been scary enough already, it was nothing compared to how it felt now.

  He took a deep breath and gripped the steering wheel so tight his knuckles turned white, but neither of these actions did anything to still his shaking hands. ‘Come on, Dan,’ he said. ‘You can do this.’

  Finally, he told himself he was ready and, after turning off the engine, got out of the vehicle. He stared at the building before him. Dove Court Hospice read the sign above the entrance; the word Hospice screamed out at him loud and clear. Dan almost froze again, he was forced to inhale and exhale in an attempt to get a grip. All he had to do, he insisted, was make it through the doors.

  He reluctantly began putting one foot in front of the other, all the while praying this was an over-reaction on his part; that his mother’s sudden admittance was simply a precaution. After all, as he thought about the increasing pain she’d endured lately, her medication clearly hadn’t been doing its job. He crossed his fingers in the hope that the medical staff just wanted to keep an eye on his mum while they tested for a more suitable combination of drugs. ‘Please, God,’ he said. He, at last, entered the building. ‘Please don’t take her just yet.’

  ‘I’m here about my mum,’ said Dan. He tried to control the quiver in his voice as he made his way to the reception desk. ‘I believe she’s just been admitted.’

  The receptionist gave him a gentle smile and while he knew there wasn’t much else she could do under the circumstances, her sympathy only served to feed his fears.

  ‘You must be Gerry’s son,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, I am.’ He tried to raise a smile of his own.

  ‘Your mum said you’d be coming. Although she wasn’t expecting you just yet.’

  As the receptionist stepped from behind the desk ready to go and fetch someone, Dan gave her a quizzical look. He certainly wouldn’t be anywhere else at a time like this and it surprised him to know others would think otherwise.

  ‘Something about it being a big night tonight?’

  Jesus, Mum, he thought to himself. His date with Annabel should be the last thing on her mind right now.

  He suddenly felt a glimmer of hope. Surely her talking about his love life had to be a good sign?

  The woman disappeared off down the hall leaving Dan to take in his surroundings. The hospice had a definite modern feel, but at the same time, didn’t have that clinical air expected in a medical facility. He supposed places like this needed a relaxed atmosphere, that they prided themselves on the personal touch. All part of what was it they called it? Oh yes, palliative care.

  As if to prove his point, he spotted a cork board hanging on one of the walls. Covered in photos, he leaned in for a closer look. Members of staff and former patients beamed back at him, although as he focused on their faces, Dan struggled to get his head around what any of them had to be so happy about. Seeing that most of them were dying, he couldn’t help but wonder how many were still around to this day.

  ‘Dan!’ someone suddenly called out.

  He hastily turned, eager to see who the voice belonged to. ‘Jill,’ he replied. As he raced to meet her, Dan had never felt so relieved to see a familiar face. ‘How is she?’ he asked. ‘Why are we here? What’s happening?’

  The nurse indicated they should sit down and guided him over to a couple of seats. ‘The doctor’s with her now. We’ll know more once he’s finished.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Dan. ‘She said she was fine.’

  He pictured his mother only a while earlier, he felt guilty for leaving her. He hadn’t wanted to; they’d even had a bit of an argument about it. But she’d insisted he had nothing to worry about as per usual; that his date with Annabel took priority over him babysitting her. Why couldn’t he have been just as adamant as his mum and flat out refused?

  ‘I should have put my foot down more,’ he said.

  ‘If there’s one thing I’ve learned about your mother these last couple of months,’ said Jill. ‘It’s that she has one hell of an independent streak.’

  Dan felt himself relax a little. ‘Tell me about it. You should have heard the message she left. Anyone would think that she was checking into a hotel not a hospice.’ He paused to recall her exact words, his frustrations returned to the fore. ‘But to think I wouldn’t turn the car around and come straight here. What kind of son does she have me down as?’

  ‘Tonight was as important for her as it was you, you know.’

  ‘I know,’ Dan replied. ‘And every step of the way I’ve tried to do things her way. But come on. Look at where we are, Jill. Even Mum must see that things with Annabel aren’t exactly important right now.’

  He steeled himself ready for the worst, while desperately hoping for the best. ‘So,’ he said. ‘Tell me.’

  Jill placed a reassuring hand on his and, knowing this was never a good sign, Dan felt his heart skip a beat.

  ‘She has lymphedema, Dan. She did her best to try and hide it from me, of course. But as soon as I realised what was happening I knew it was time to come in.’

  Convinced he’d read about lymphedema somewhere, Dan tried and failed to recollect the details. He’d read so much about his mother’s condition lately that everything seemed to have merged into a mass of undecipherable information. Confused, he looked to Jill for an explanation.

  ‘Lymphedema refers to th
e swelling that generally occurs in a patient’s arms or legs,’ she said. ‘It results from a blockage in the lymphatic system, which, in turn, is part of the immune system. The blockage prevents lymph fluid from draining properly, hence, its buildup in the limbs.’

  Dan still didn’t fully understand, however, he could tell by the nurse’s face that it was serious. ‘And what caused it?’ he asked. ‘You’re going to treat it, right?’

  ‘The cancer could be blocking your mum’s lymph nodes or vessels, or it could be a side effect of treatment. Either way, there’s nothing we can do.’ She paused, as if trying to come up with the right words.

  Dan knew that his fears were being realised; he just sat there. He wanted her to both continue and not continue at the same time.

  ‘It’s a sign that her organs are failing, Dan. That’s why she’s here.’

  As Jill’s words slowly began to sink in, Dan suddenly felt numb. He’d known all along that this day was coming. He just hadn’t anticipated it being so soon. Fear and fury began to well as he leaned forward and after placing his elbows on his knees, ran his hands through his hair.

  ‘So this is it?’ he said. He straightened himself back up. ‘She’s dying?’ He scoffed at his own statement. ‘Of course she is. We wouldn’t be in a hospice if she wasn’t.’

  Jill smiled softly. ‘She’s always been dying, Dan.’

  ‘You think I don’t know that?’ exploded Dan, as he jumped to his feet and began pacing up and down.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said. Dan made an effort to control his voice. ‘I didn’t mean to snap. I know none of this is your fault, it’s just …’

  ‘That you’re angry?’ said the nurse. ‘That’s understandable. I’d be angry too.’

  She fell quiet and Dan felt glad of the emotional space the silence gave him.

  ‘I sometimes wish I could just run away and hide from all this,’ he eventually said, his voice shaky. ‘I want to curl up and go to sleep so that when I wake up I’ll find none of this is real. It’s all just a bad dream, a cruel nightmare.’

  Dan started to pace again, it all felt too much and he rubbed his forehead as he attempted to grasp the inevitable. He stopped in his tracks. ‘How long does she have?’

  ‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,’ Jill replied. ‘Let’s speak to the doctor. He’ll be able to tell us more.’

  ‘Can I see her?’

  ‘Soon. Things shouldn’t take too long now.’

  When he heard another set of voices down the hall, Dan immediately looked over to where they came from. A doctor stepped out of a side room and after spotting Dan, smiled as he began walking towards him.

  ‘She’s quite a character is that one,’ he said. ‘And in very good spirits considering.’ He held out his hand, ready to greet Dan as he approached. ‘You must be Gerry’s son. She’s just been telling me all about you. And about your big night tonight.’

  Dan sighed. Was there anyone whom she hadn’t told? ‘If we could get to the important stuff,’ he said.

  ‘Sure. Of course.’ The doctor took a seat and signaled for Dan to do the same.

  ‘So what are we talking about?’ he asked.

  ‘It could be a couple of days or a couple of weeks.’

  Dan took a deep breath, his cheeks filled with air before he let out a long, hard sigh. Grappling with the reality of the situation, tears sprang in his eyes; however, he quickly wiped them away. ‘Okay,’ he said, trying to sound stronger than he felt.

  ‘In the meantime, it’s our job to make sure your mum’s as comfortable and pain free as possible.’ The doctor turned to the nurse. ‘We’ve already fitted a syringe driver.’

  ‘A syringe driver?’ said Dan. His mum had kept him in the dark for so long on the medical front, he needed to know exactly what was going on and why. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘It’s like a battery pack,’ explained Jill. ‘It’s a rectangular box that houses all your mum’s drugs in one side and a battery in the other. The battery’s used to pump the medication through a tube and straight into her abdomen.’

  Dan cringed; he felt his own stomach lurch on behalf of his mother’s.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘It sounds a lot scarier than it is.’

  ‘And what?’ he asked. ‘We just wait?’

  ‘I’m afraid that’s all we can do,’ said the doctor.

  ‘Fuck!’ said Dan. He rose to his feet again. Fear enveloped his whole body, it all felt too much to cope with. ‘I thought we had more time. She can’t die. Not yet.’

  The doctor stood up, meeting him at his level ‘She’s in the best possible place,’ he said. ‘And we’re doing everything we can.’

  ‘To make her more comfortable?’ Dan replied. He knew he sounded harsh, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. ‘Yes, you said.’

  No doubt having gone through this numerous times, with God knows how many other patients and their families, Dan could see in his expression that the man understood his pain. He felt guilty; he told himself that he had no right to take his feelings out on anyone else. But no amount of understanding helped any. He still felt overwhelmed.

  ‘We have everything she needs both physically and emotionally,’ the doctor continued. ‘Spiritually too, if she chooses.’ He put a hand on Dan’s arm. ‘As do you. We’re not just here for your mum, you know. We have a fantastic support system in place for family members.’

  Dan shrugged off the doctor’s words. He didn’t care about himself. As far as he was concerned, it was his mother’s wellbeing that mattered, not his own. ‘I don’t know what to say to her,’ he said. His voice caught in his throat. ‘I don’t know what to do to help.’

  ‘Just being at your mum’s side is enough,’ said Jill. ‘We’ll do the rest.’

  Dan nodded. He took another deep breath and reminded himself that he had to be strong for his mother’s sake, if not his own.

  ‘Would you like to see her now?’

  ‘Please.’

  He turned to the doctor and shook his hand once more. ‘Thank you,’ he said.

  ‘No problem. And if you have any questions at all, just give me a shout. I’ll be around here somewhere.’

  ‘I will,’ Dan replied.

  As he watched him head off towards another part of the building, Dan doubted he’d be seeking him out any time soon. In his view, the man had already answered the biggest question of all.

  Jill indicated that they head down the hall and he followed her towards his mother’s room before pausing at the door to try and pull himself together.

  ‘You ready?’ Jill asked.

  ‘No,’ said Dan. ‘Not really.’

  He watched her tap on the door regardless, before opening it and popping her head inside. ‘You have a visitor, Gerry,’ she said. She gave him an encouraging smile as she made way for Dan to enter.

  ‘Dan,’ said his mum, as if surprised to see him. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘What kind of questions is that?’ he asked. As hard as it felt, he did his best to sound equally as cheery.

  After making his way over to her bedside, Dan looked around as he pulled up a chair. The room appeared typical of those found in any hospital facility, except the floor was carpeted instead of being laid with industrial type vinyl. He spotted the door to an en-suite bathroom and there was a television on a cabinet at the foot of her bed, remote control included. She had one of those tables on wheels so she could even have her meals in bed if she wanted to.

  Finally, his eyes fell on the syringe driver lying next to her and, despite it scaring the hell out of him, he did his best not to react. A job easier said than done and he knew by the way his mother quickly hid it under her blanket that fear had automatically registered on his face.

  ‘This could have waited, you know,’ she said. ‘I don’t plan on going anywhere tonight.’

  Leant against her pillows, she looked so small and frail, nothing like the strong individual she’d always been. Dan felt his heart go out to her, but w
hile he continued to wish, more than anything, that he could trade places, he knew he had to keep his emotions in check.

  ‘I should hope not,’ he replied.

  She smiled, but underneath the façade, Dan could see in her eyes that she was hurting emotionally as well as physically; that she knew as much as he did that time had never been more precious.

  ‘I don’t suppose you rang to cancel either?’ she said.

  Dan shook his head. ‘Let’s just say I had more important things on my mind.’

  ‘Oh, Dan.’ His mum took his hand in hers, at the same time giving it a squeeze. ‘What are we going to do with you?’

  ‘Enough about me,’ he replied. ‘Let’s talk about you. How are you feeling? How’s the pain?’

  ‘I feel like I should be at home,’ she said. ‘I told the nurse this could hang on until tomorrow, but she insisted I come in now. Still, I suppose the poor woman’s only doing what she thinks is best.’

  As much as Dan wanted to keep up his mother’s pretence, something inside seemed to break and the last of his denial suddenly drained from his body. Neither of them knew exactly how long his mother had left and from what the doctor had said, this could be his last chance to tell her how much he loved her. He needed his mum to know how thankful he was for everything she’d done for him and how she’d been the best mother a son could ever wish for. All things that had to be said before it was too late.

  Regardless of any acceptance, Dan couldn’t stop the lump suddenly forming in his throat. He swallowed hard, but he still couldn’t manage to speak and, not wanting to break down completely in front of his mum, he hastily got up from his seat and headed for the window, determined to compose himself. Looking out, he realised she’d been right when she’d said how beautiful the gardens were. The hyacinths, tulips and primroses brought new life to a place dealing in death.