One Split Second

by Gillian Crook

  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…

  One of the nice foreign chinese male nurses just came in to do my bp etc, still too low 55100 or thereabouts—whatever that means? Orders—drink plenty (the waters disgusting, the foods disgusting, the whole bloody caboodle at the moment is disgusting)! I thought writing things down would make it easier for me to release anxiety or something like that, but now I’m not so sure… signing off for mo, very disgruntled, at a very low ebb, and full of the joys of spring (roll, that is, that’s been chewed up spat out and in the bin, yuk!), nite nite, remember my kids (they keep me going), and mum… love em…

  Saturday 27th September

  (32 days)

  My God, I’m counting the days now—don’t really want to diarise like this but I will write how and whatever shape or form it takes, and if the writing helps me make any sense of whatever is happening to me, then I’m gonna write till the cows come home, well shaggy highland cows… they’re a nice image! So, after my shitty ‘goodnight’ and the non-conversation with Barry, I did manage to fall asleep. I do fight the sleep, but not because I am enjoying being awake—sounds crazy, but so that I will sleep longer and have a shorter day, drr!!! Rude awakening at 6 anyway, I suppose I don’t mind that much because if it means the meds are started correctly at the beginning of the day, that’s how it will remain till the end—huh—who am I kidding!! Anyway, no change today—sleeping pills seem to be working or I am just exhausted. Chest still really hard and painful and uncomfortable, as if someone has put an old fashioned girdle on me and is pulling the laces as tight as they can, and my back and shoulders, downwards, feel like I’m lying on really bad sunburn; no matter how much I try to explain to people they just don’t seem to appear to have any concept of what I am going through (not that I would want this for anyone). What I would do to be able to just get out of bed, shower, have an argument, I mean a really good ‘sawdust of the floor’, ‘gloves off’ argument), mmh, Actually, I do argue… with the friggin TELLY, because I hate Robert Kilroy-bloody-Silk, and I DO argue with him—but it’s not the same! oh, help, I want to be normal and I hate normal, normally!!

  Slept for a bit, things seem to be going on in the ward today but it is calmer. I don’t feel so irritable, even though that caffeta thing had a problem and the bed was wet, something to do with a dual carriageway, at least that’s how I said I would remember it and now I can’t—all I know something was wet and believe me it was urine, I don’t think I will ever get used to the smell of urine on me, I smell old, or like a men’s toilet!! Plenty perfume and body sprays needed and air freshener for when the nappy needs changed as well!!

  I get no visitors at the moment, but it’s weird, because, sometimes when I hear people coming towards my door I really hope that they are not coming to see me. Don’t get me wrong, I love visitors, and once visitors are here I really enjoy it, and especially, now, that I feel no need for my mask, in fact it’s quite liberating and refreshing actually.

  I don’t know what made me think of it, but I will not let Angela forget that she let me down by not getting me a new mobile phone, and I think it’s because they think I will use it in the hospital—so, WHAT, do they think the hospital is gonna do? . . . give me my marching orders and discharge me for using my phone?—I should be so bloody lucky! ActuaIly, I would use it in the hospital, so I suppose they are right? ha ha.

  Well I think I dropped into my `Ronnie Corbett syndrome` hereinafter referred to as my ‘‘rcs’. To enlighten people, he used to do his own little sketch in a comedy show called The Two Ronnies, where he sat in a large comfy swivel chair and when he told a story he would always drift into another story to explain a part of something that related to the first part of the story and it became a story within a story, because whilst explaining about the first thing he started to explain about he would find something else within that explanation that needed explaining because it related to that particular part as well, understand? keep up—well, thats me and thats my ‘rcs’!

  So, eventually got hold of hospital phone as well, sticking to my guns there—first thing in the morning, tea-time at night—well, my agreement anyway. Barry phoned and I got an apology, of sorts, but as usual I’m tired, tetchy, frustrated, worried and the mere mention of my family, like this morning, he exaggerates all the prejudices he has against them ‘tenfold’, however I did say never to talk about my family the way he had done the day before because it upsets me. He was very dismissive and went on to say that he thought Glasgow would be a good option, but I just know that he still has his reservations about my family and them taking over my life… (like he used to—many moons ago now). I explained that long term rehab in Stanmore would mean a reliable source of communication personally and it would have to be him and the kids. For God’s sake, I haven’t kept in touch with any of his family for years and not at all since Nanny Lou (Barry’s mams) funeral. I don’t even keep in touch with Toni, my best friend in Berrytown and her hubby, Steve, who I was pals with as well. Even the people down here in England are not real friends, and I’m afraid to say I don’t even want to be around ‘clean junkies’—I have seen and witnessed a hell of a lot, more than I could have ever imagined and have always kept my mouth shut to everything!! It really is ‘dog eat dog’ out there! Definitely time to move on… . on to a new chapter!!! That may sound repetitive and ‘I’ve heard all that before’ malarchy, but my whole way of life now has to change. Alcohol is off limits, and I can’t promise it won’t ever be back on again, but definitely is not any more, at least at this stage. Something tells me my whole life is in the lap of the Gods and let’s hope they are gonna be on my side for once, even I know a few members of the family were saying that I was ‘lucky’ and must have used up all my ‘nine lives’ by now and that God must have ‘some great plan for me’!! They had a laugh about it and didn’t realise at the time that I heard them, so lets hope they are still saying I’m lucky` when they see the hell that I am no doubt about to go through, because up until now my stretch has been nothing but everybodies worst nightmare!!

  Spoke to my lovely Casey and we talked about everything and anything, I love her and Mitch so much and oh, also my conversation with Barry finished ok (happy days!) and we agreed that any other options with regards the rehabs would be further looked into and I did what I think he wanted me to do, which was, to reassure him that it was his help, support and encouragement that I relied on the most! Bloody men, why do they have to feel needed and then moan when we do ask for their help and make jibes about ‘female weaklings’ and suchlike, actually, problem is though, I do need him, bless! Casey phoned back about 3 and was again on the phone for ages, Barry was obviously out. Casey really wants me to go to Glasgow cause she thinks it’s for the best and she wants to go to Uni there. She is growing up so rapidly. She really has to be careful, she is soo pretty, but also so naive—I try to talk to her, so I hope that helps and I subtly tell Barry to watch for ‘girlie’ things but under no circumstances go through things in her room, especially looking for diaries, ciggies, and top drawers… that will push her away more, and she told me that. Spoke for ages and then had to say ‘bye’ cause the nurse was coming round to ‘clean me’, I hate the ‘nappy change’ thing, it’s so demeaning, but, I shut my eyes and pretend it’s not me and just think of Casey and our phone call and pretend In my head we are still talking, I love my Casey, so I’m filling my head with Casey images.

  Oh God, apparently huge bed sore on buttox—never had one of them before, lets hope they get rid of that soon and it’s not spreading, don’t want one on my face! Oh no, it needs the infected insides ‘scooped out’ of it, luvvrrllyy! Craig, one of the really nice male nurse, is the one I have to thank for that very graphic description—entirely based on a ‘need-to-know’ basis. Head Nurse/client confidentially policy to be used, so how come 3 other people that shouldn’t have known were there when he told me, people I don’t want knowing yucky things like that bout me and my broken-up bod, hmm? I’m
gonna get him back whenever I get on to my ‘mean wheelie machine’, in other words ‘wheelchair’. Feeling very very sore today and it gets worse when I think about it as well…

  Its 6.30 Saturday night, just been brought in a lovely salad. Did speak to the nutritionist yesterday and don’t know whether it’s my taste buds or wot but I can’t face hot food or the smell of anything! yuk! Gotta have a break but before I go, just to let you know, spoke to mum today when I managed to commandeer the phone and she sounds great and was absolutely delighted to hear from me. We were on the phone for ages and I told her that I was going to try for Glasgow hospital and she thinks that would be ideal. Good eh, one happy mother… why should I feel so bad if I do get to Glasgow cause kids are happy, well Casey is, so have to speak to Mitch and I’m sure he will be ok, as long as his ole mums happy then, it’s only Barry who doesn’t seem keen—God sake, he’s got Shonah and new babe, she isn’t even moving north now to her new house, so what a waste of bloody money she spent trying to secure that property. I will stop there now, for some reason I can feel myself getting wound up about it! signing off for mo… before I go, forgot to mention mum sent me a card and I got it today, really funny because she made out it was from the dog (a beautiful golden retriever), and it looked just like Corrie—she even wrote ‘woof woof’—great sense of humour my mum, rock on… luv `er xxxx