One Split Second

by Gillian Crook

  Oh well, lovely Linda has had to go off to other backsides, and I said I would see her later. Oh well, it looks like I must have drawn the short straw because loud Linda was the one that had to take me for a shower once I was ‘cleaned up’ from the suppositories after they had completed a successful ‘evacuation’ (just use your imagination). Loud Linda was getting my clothes ready so that there would be no time wasting. She is so fast and manic, to the point of near eccentricity, and she talks like that as well. I can’t help it, but sometimes start to enjoy ‘back-chatting’ to the most extreme measures with her, because that seems to be the only language she understands, ‘crude’ and ‘sarcastic’. To be fair, I suppose she’s a ‘human punchbag’ for me to vent my frustrations, as I know she’s ‘thick skinned’, and sometimes I can insult her in an indirect way, and she will take it as a compliment (nutter), . . . I am not saying she is ‘stupid’, ooh no NO! she is just so wrapped up in talking, shouting; talking, laughing (very loudly as well); talking, eating; I don’t think her brain can keep up with digesting whats going in, before it has a chance of knowing whats gonna ‘come out’! She has almost made shouting, talking fast, loudness, crudeness, and ignorance an art form, by taking it to another level and she has definitely raised the bar to the point where I don’t even know if I can put up with her for too long… . she is hard work. Whilst she was getting me ready I was actually too tired and I couldn’t be bothered with the quick-fired backchat any more and I don’t know where the ‘banter’ that she thought was a joke stopped, and started to get nasty, but I refused to carry on the conversation and explained that maybe it would be better if I had a different nurse, and when she asked me if I meant that I didn’t want her helping me anymore, before I had a chance to answer, she said that she would see if there was another auxiliary that she could be swapped with, but she couldn’t guarantee it. Very quickly, things became more serious and I apologised and said that, that wouldn’t be necessary and the truth is, she may have a gob the size of the Mersey tunnel, but she is efficient and does get the job done. She grunted, and I took that as a positive gesture! So, once cleaned up, she got me on the lilo, and in a way things seemed more relaxed once we had cleared the air, and I do have to admit she had me washed and ready in record time.

  Well, maybe it’s got something to do with my ‘abrupt’ waking up, but something has certainly made me bad tempered, and, why does someone that is supposed to be in the ‘caring’ profession, not have any understanding when it comes to the patients? Sorry, back to loud Linda and her rude awakening!

  Roddy, the physio, came in and told me I would be getting the prone trolley for an hour before lunch… so, even though it hurts so much on the trolley, I still go on it because it’s good exercise, and I’m actually getting a bit better at steering it, and people know to get out of my way! So, I had talked myself into ‘looking forward’ to it, then, . . . after waiting for an hour, which meant getting ready after my shower, putting on my trainers, which wasn’t easy, and gearing myself up, was only then, to be told by Roddy that someone else called, Hose, was on it and I would have to wait till after lunch! So I’m writing this now, and I feel bad, because I was so pissed off I was shouting at the physio, that, ‘there is only so much I can take before I want to kick and punch someone or something’! Oh, dear, hissy fit!

  In my head I’m just wanting to scream out, ‘I HATE THIS FUCKIN PLACE AND WHY ARE THEY WINDING ME UP?’ Whoever is doing this to me, wasn’t the accident punishment enough? I honestly think someone is making me pay the price for all those times when I was a ‘sycophant’, using my womanly charms and flattery with people, strangers, just anyone, who would take the bait in order to help me survive another day!! Oh, yes, it’s shameful, but sometimes I would even use friends just to make sure that I was able to get drinks bought, or that dress, or that one night of survival and the list is endless… . So, I fuckin confess, I’m sorry, ok!! Fine, Fine Fine, now I can’t even work the bloody TELLY; that’s packed in as well now… . AND it’s probably not high up in their lists of priorities to fix—I hate this hospital. I need that telly to keep me sane! I’m gonna stop ranting, I’m weak, disillusioned and pissed off.

  Oh, well, lunch came… and lunch went, because like everything else today, they couldn’t get that right either—it was lamb casserole, and that wasn’t what I put on my menu, and it looked more like ‘fatty gruel’ anyway, they offered me something else, but I said no, because, one consolation about me being in a bad mood, is that generally, it makes me lose my appetite—maybe I should get angry a lot more? (that won’t be hard in here). So I did settle for a tuna sandwich that they insisted upon and I had a little tub of ice cream. Actually I love the little cartons of ice creams you get in here.

  Feeling a bit better actually, and they are now all trying to cheer me up, and it’s quite bad how many people must have heard my outburst, even ‘loud Linda’ has apologised for what happened before, and I didn’t expect that, but I think she knew she had pushed me too far… a bit like that scenario before in the book when I was talking about the kids toy fighting—everything is fine until one gets hurt, then angry, and then they start knocking lumps out of each other. Nice Linda came to see me as well, to see if I was ok and asked if I’d got some lunch, so I said yes thanks. She also told me that she had been on to the maintenance dept and they would be up this afternoon to look at the telly—oh, thank you so much God. Actually, that little ice cream got rid of my sweet tooth—maybe I should ask them to put some in the patient kitchen for me. Apparently there is a kitchen on the ward for relatives, the patients and the staff to use to make teas and coffee and suchlike, but I can’t see me being able to make anything soon, being stuck in bed, on the lilo or on the prone trolley! Isn’t my life a bundle of laughs… you know I DO have a good sense of humour and I’m gonna have to bloody well use it more in here than getting angry, otherwise I am gonna turn into a very bitter, twisted, grumpy, bitch!!

  After lunch, Roddy came in with the trolley and I got onto it, knowing it was going to be sore; I don’t really say too much about being sore all the time, do I? oh, yes you DO, I hear you say?? So, it was quite good fun today, I managed to get the trolley going a bit faster and wheeled myself right round to the gym, and made it in record time, and I actually enjoyed the exercise. There are so many younger guys, averaging about 18yrs old, and it’s really sad. There are quite a few women, but it’s mainly guys. It isn’t like an ordinary work out gym; it’s equipped with everything that patients need for their particular injury, like I need to work on my upper body strength, and someone else may have to used the ‘walking frames’, or practice getting in and out of the car (it’s such a cool, wreck of a car), so that’s an example of some of the different apparatus, but there are quite a few other things that I don’t even know what they’re for. The guys seem to work hard, when they’re not chatting away like ‘fish wives’. I even got talking to a couple of the young guys who introduced themselves when they were sitting on one of the long benches where they had been doing stretching exercises, which they tell me will really help the spasms. They were nice, Paul and Chris, and the one called Chris, told me a joke to cheer me up,—I asked the gym instructor, “Can you teach me how to do the splits?”, he said, “how flexible are you?”, I replied “I can make Tuesdays”, boom, bloody, boom!! Actually, it did bring a smile to my face and it was topical. Actually, it was quite nice getting round and about, because it is now giving me the chance to start meeting people and find my bearings and get used to the Unit, and I have even come across Edenhall Ward, which is the ward where all admissions (mainly emergency) stay until they are well enough to progress into the Rehabilitation Ward, which is where I am, the Phillipshill Ward. So, I managed to go through Edenhall, even though, I realised afterwards that you are not supposed to go through there, as it is the spinal units` equivalent of HDU in other wards. I didn’t even recognise it, but that’s where I spent my first 3 days!! The ward did seem a bit grues
ome, so I decided to go through into the living room area where they have a largish telly, pool table, and also where you are able to sit with visitors.

  Today there was a stall that was run by SIS (Spinal Injuries Support), and the women seemed quite nice, and because I felt all the better for having got out of bed and doing a bit of exercise, I cheered up and even bought some things from their stall—namely, a baseball hat, earrings and truffles (I couldn’t resist), what a waste of all that exercise, when I then go and buy sweets!! I do need to see a ‘shrink’?

  When I got back to the ward my bed had been moved from the middle of the room to the corner, yes, oh yes… that definately cheered up, I was so chuffed, I hate being in the middle of the three beds, I always prefer to be by the window or end corner, and I’m the same in restaurants or cafes (which used to drive Barry nuts), AND my bed was dressed up all nicely with my ‘Giorgio’ teddy sitting upright on the bed, and I love that teddy because it was my best mate Karen, that had sent it to me on my arrival at the hospital (I forgot to mention it before and I love her and her family, hubby Donnie, Natalie and Rebecca) with Giorgio Beverley Hills perfume attached to it, and next to it was ‘scruff’, my cute teddy with a tartan bow tie on, that my lovely kiddies had brought to the Derry hospital for me when they first came to see me. I was told that it was Loud Linda who had tidied and pampered up my bedside so nicely. I think it was a kind gesture, so I knew then that there were no hard feelings. Ok, that’s fine with me, I’m glad about that, and I must admit she made it look really cheery; she’s, one of those people who just has a knack of making cleaning look easy. She works ‘off’ her adrenalin, and that’s what makes her manic at times. Also, not only was there a telly at the bed, it was also a different, newer model AND it had a proper zapper! Yeah, I was cheered up, Yippee, I was really pleased but a bit peeved off with myself for getting quite so uptight and angry about such a thing as silly as a telly, but even without the ‘cooped-up’, bed-rest, injury, I would still go mad without my telly!

  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, 15th 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!

  Monday 17th November

  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’ som
e 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!