One Split Second

by Gillian Crook

  Then after Joan left, John Hunter, Head of physio, came in to see me with Roddy. They think for now I should maintain my exercises on the prone trolley. Sometimes I just lie on it for ages, chattin’ away to people, but I do exercise, of course; then for real upper body, the best exercise is to use the cage in the gym when I’m on my bed… oh yeah, that’s the one where I drop all the weights! I’m sounding defeatist before I even start a routine with these. Actually, I’m sharing the prone trolley with Hose. He has to stay in his bed indefinitely at the moment as well, because of a few bed sores he got in the hospital he was in, in Venezuela, before he was flown to the UK, where he has family in Edinburgh. So between us, we can share the time evenly. In fact, I think our injuries are the same, but I just have to find out if I can use any of my body that is numb at the moment.

  Today’s been quite busy actually, I received a letter from Alma, the big black ‘mama’ from rehab. I’m not being racist here, that’s what Alma used to call herself and shimmy and wobble at the same time; when I first saw her she looked so scary, but once I got to know her, she was like a mother-figure (to me anyway—she loved my Scottish accent) and, it was hard to believe that it was drugs she was in for, because most people in for drugs were pretty thin, like my other really good mate Lisa. (I will tell you about her again—me and Lisa got up to all sorts). So, Alfie is doing really well, still remaining clean after 4 months and she has lost 3 stone… good for her!! She was trying to persuade me that there were great rehab/aftercare centre’s down there, and that if I went back to Plymund I would get loads of support… bless her! and she means it. The good thing is, she is in contact with my dear mate Joan as well. I lost Joan’s number when I was leaving Derry with my ‘morphine induced transfer head on’! I will make sure I write back to her, but I don’t really think I will be going back to Plymund somehow… but the way my life is at the moment… who friggin knows?

  Didn’t hear from the kids till about 9.45, and it was by text, to say goodnight from them both, so I txtd back, from under the covers to say goodnight back and speak to them tomorrow… this phone is really handy, but it’s bloody nonsense in this day and age that it can’t be used in hospitals (I sounded like my mother—’in this day and age’!). That’s my little rant on mobile phones over, plus there is no electrical equipment in or near this ward!! Im sore, sore, sore but tomorrow is another day and 2004 is another YEAR, so hopefully it will be me; OUT of bed and INTO a WHEELCHAIR! must remember PMA? Nite nite, I don’t know what time it is now, but all the lights are off, except mine… and it’s actually quite peaceful, like the time I spent one night sleeping in a graveyard with my male friend, Gabriel, a star-gazing, eccentric, hippy… I only lasted one hour admittedly, but it was quiet, in a funny, peculiar, type of way, and trust, me that is a time in my life that would make another book! Nite to one and all, mum and dad (up in the stars) and all the family and people I love, oh, and a special prayer for Hose, Amen xx

  Thursday 20th November

  Why is it that first thing in the morning, I am so so sore, and today I was sweating, and I had some really disturbing dreams last night… I think I was exhausted yesterday and spent too long on the prone trolley, because even my hands are really hurting and even though I have put plenty moisture on them, I still cannot clench a fist and straighten my hand out properly. I’ll ask John the physio when I see him this morning… I am going into the cage ‘for my sins’, and then the trolley in the afternoon. Actually, I am waiting for a card and a letter with £20 in it from mum, but it hasn’t arrived yet!

  After my shower I went through to the gym, and Dr Dunne came in, and the reason I give him his proper name is for when it is for something more serious I’m talking about. Anyway, him and John asked me if they could talk to me in private—and that’s a bit of a challenge considering I can’t fit the bed into any of the offices, so they said that they would get me wheeled into the conference room that is just around the corner… I knew this was going to be something bad, otherwise, why couldn’t they just speak to me in the gym? Well, they wasted no time, and it was Dr Dunne that started to talk, actually with some sincerity in his voice for a change, and told me that, they now had all the results back from the various departments regarding my injuries, and that they knew I was hoping that I may be able to walk given a bit of time and lots of physio… Well, himself and John Hunter, had looked thoroughly through my notes, and my injury is COMPLETE T7, meaning ALL the nerves have been severed from the spinal cord, and it is a complete break, and I am palaysed from the top of my ribs down, and my abdominal muscles no longer work! He tried to apologise, sincerely, but to someone who has done it that often, it was just another day at the office for him, and with that handed me the file!!! NO! NO! NO! FUCK NO!

  I asked them just how certain they were, and they said it was 100% certain. You know, I’m not even really distressed apart from the immediate denial; but I was just HOPING, hoping for what… a miracle? I suppose I sort of knew, but… It’s just the horrible realism of being told for certain. God, help!

  I desperately asked; was there any chance I could walk, could any feeling at all come back, would I lose any more feeling anywhere else, would exercise help me to get some feeling at all, would I not be able to get some kind of operation, please, pretty fuckin please, is there nothing they could do… . ? They asked me if I wanted to use the phone to call anybody, and I felt so fuckin alone at that point, I couldn’t think of anyone I wanted to call. No-one would understand, and no-one could know what I was going through. I think up until then, everyone was hoping for that little glimmer of hope.

  Resigned to the fact, I proceeded to wheel myself back to my room, and actually had a reprieve from gym (so kind). I would talk to Barry and the kids first. Thing is though, I think Barry knew anyway. It’s just a feeling I have. Maybe the surgeon has spoken to him since I’ve been here, afterall, he is still my next-of-kin. John and the staff nurse came into the ward to make sure I was ok, and for John to explain about any questions I might have. Then I thought, did that mean that because of the abdominal muscles being dead, I wouldn’t be able to ‘hold’ my tummy in? The answer to that was Yes… it has taken me years to get that flat tummy! (fuck off! if only I could have said that) . . . what a lot of crap, I wasn’t really talking or listening. John said that with the correct physio, once out of the bed, it would be easier for me to cope with my T7 injury. I asked what the T and 7 was for, and they showed me a spinal cord and explained that in between the bottom of the spine tailbone and my ribs, they have the medical name, which is, THORASIC, and the 7 is for how far up the spine the paralysis stops. So basically, from the bottom of my bra and the top of my ribcage, that is where I shall have feeling upwards (of course, otherwise I would have a numb head—oh, I’ve got that paralysis most of the time anyway). He apologised for the results taking so long, and for being so direct, but that’s the way it has to be, and now we are all going to work together to get on with my rehabilitation. Then, in walked Dr Dunne and confirmed that from the spinal cord that John showed me, that the paralysis, went from the top of the ribs down, and to answer my question, would I no longer have working abdominal muscles`, the answer was ‘yes’ and I would always have a little bit of a tummy; Fuck me! talk about rubbing salt in the wounds… he was quickly becoming the Santa from Hell. He was pretty quickly going to have his real title as Dr Didn’t, cause he didn’t have any fuckin good news! He then told me, that when Mr Templar was back, the operation I was scheduled in for, in about 3 weeks time was only 1 of a number of operations that I would have to have until the wound was healed completely. He then went on to say that there would be a new bed arriving in about 3 weeks, that is ‘specially’ built, to help with any kind of pressure sores, but I do have to remain in the bed for those 2/3 weeks, and therefore I must understand that once in this bed that they call a ‘Clinitron’ (sounds more like the soft furnishings on the Starship Enterprise), I will not be able to leave the ward at all an
d that would mean no gym as well, but it would help the wound to heal quicker. He went on to say more about the bed, but I didn’t care anymore. Great! I must say, any ‘enthusiasm’, I may have had, had dwindled away… far away… into Santa’s dark, disabled, disfunctional, decrepit ‘grotto’! . . . .

  I had to go and find a quiet spot, which is not easy, and just take in what Dunne and John had told me and I would prefer to be on my own.

  After about an hour, Pauline, the staff nurse asked it I wanted to use the phone to call my mum or anyone… . I decided not to… just yet… I AM GONNA PROVE I AM, INCOMPLETE!! That’s all I could think!! They MUST be wrong. It got me thinking about Derry Hospital and what the family were told, because I cannot recollect being told once by them, that I wouldn’t walk again, but I know that’s what the family thought… so they were right, and my fears’ were confirmed!

  I decided I just had to get on with things, because to be honest, around here no-one has really got time to sit and dwell for too long if they are able to get to the gym…

  I saw Joan, from social working coming round, and she said she was on her way to see me (or at least one of many on her list). She had a few forms for me to fill in, in order to ‘get that slow ball rolling’, her positivity brought a smile to my face, She had already filled in about 10 forms for me, then read them out, and made any relevant changes then when they were all correct, all I had to do was sign, on the relevant dotted lines! Job done… ! No nonsense… I like her!

  I decided NOT to make any phone calls. I don’t think the family thought I would walk again anyway, and, well, the kids don’t have to be told anything? I would think Barry has already told them I won’t walk… so then; any progress is a plus for them to hear.

  Barry and the children phoned tonight, and Casey was in a really bad, upset mood… cursing Shonah! She feels really pushed out by Barry, because apparently Shonah and dad have decided to put on quite a large extension, and she really ‘hates’ her because, she is getting all her own way, choosing colours and furniture, and isn’t asking Casey what she thinks at all and she has got dad wrapped round around her little finger and just because she now has dad and the baby, she now wants control of EVERYTHING! Aah! (That was Casey’s scream and little rant down the phone to her mum and it made me chuckle), then she announced that neither her or Mitch were gonna call the baby, their half-brother. I think this is a new rebellious streak, but I also think to show an allegiance to me, that they were not letting her ‘take over’. I tried to tell her to see if from dad’s side and that he is trying to keep everyone happy and may not realise. I explained that at the moment, because of the baby being so young, he probably feels that Shonah needs a little ‘spoiling’, after having only just given birth to James a few months ago. She then told me that the only things she looks forward to at the moment is a ciggie and talking to ME! Bless and love ‘er! I reassured her of how much I need her and to ‘not let it get to her too much’. I told her that she could call me ANYTIME, 24-7, and I would always be here for her and Mitch round the clock. We then said goodnight and I told her how much I loved her. Then Mitch came on, and what a night to ask me ‘how my progress was’? I swallowed back my tears, and said I was in the gym everyday, and he found it amusing that I could go to the gym in my bed!! Thank you, my darling son, for making that easier for me to answer without losing it. After that Barry came on and I asked how things were, and he told me about what was going on, so all I asked him was to ‘not leave the kids out’, especially Casey, and he said that of course he wouldn’t. I didn’t say anything about my conversation with Casey because I knew she was just ‘letting off steam’, to her mum.

  I felt I had to offload my heavy burden, so I told Barry about what happened today regarding my injury, and he told me to get the ‘complete T7’ out of my head and look forward the way I have been as if my injury was ‘incomplete’! To keep up my positive attitude. He explained that there is no way he could imagine how I could feel or cope with the situation now and on-going, but whatever, he was only at the end of the phone if I needed him. He was so sincere and reassured me that I was and always would be one of the first amongst his list of priorities! Love ‘em! He finished by telling me that they should be up on 20/21/22 of December… oh yes… please God make it happen and I pray that I will be in a chair, but after today I am really not hopeful. Potted around my bed table pushing things around and thinking. I was glad I told Brian, and felt better for it and YES; I was going to be seeing my KIDS!! I love them, and they brought a well-needed smile to my face, and a lovely warm glow in my heart. I swear you do feel things like that.

  I just ate 8 roses and 2 butter biscuits… HELP! Fat Police Needed

  Friday 21st November

  I woke up thinking and worrying about Casey, because of our conversation last night. So after my breakfast, which I seemed to enjoy, I have decided to try NOT to eat sweet things today… yeah, let’s see how long that lasts. After breakfast, I wrote a letter to Casey to let her know I understood how she felt, and to know that I was always ‘with her’, and just gave her a little description of the hospital and what happens here in general, so she can try to envisage what the ward looks like, and so she has in words how much I love her, which I really do, so much.

  The guy John, that I was talking to before in the gym, came looking for me to say ‘hi’, he is really nice and so positive. I told him about the ‘complete’, and he said that he isn’t a doctor, but like he told me before, it has happened that other people have been told that, and they do get some feeling back. Anyway, he was encouraging me to go water skiing when I get out of bed, because I was explaining that I didn’t really enjoy the fencing and he said there were ‘faster’ and other more exciting things I could try, and that’s what I decided I would love to try sometime, the water ski-ing.

  As we were talking, my brother Tony, and his wife, Tina, and my sister Margie, walked into the ward. I must admit, it was lovely to see them, it was unexpected. I said bye to John once I had introduced them all, and John went off, but its ‘weird’, because, they didn’t act ‘normal’ around John, it was as if I had been introducing them to an alien species. Ok I know they haven’t seen me in a wheelchair yet, but they have seen people in wheelchairs before?? Strange!

  THEN once they had told me about how they got here, en route I think to somewhere, looking for something for someone, and then going back via, blah blah, blah… just the usual family spiel about why and where and when they would be going… phew! Once they got all that out of the way, I decided I didn’t want to tell them my bad news about my injury being complete, but I did explain that I would still be stuck in the damn bed over Christmas compliments of my unexpected pressie from the ‘DEVIL’ . . . oh yes, my horrible humongous pressure sore! They didn’t ask any questions about the accident, so I never ‘broached’ the subject either. I think it’s a bit of a taboo subject, because no-one really knows what happened, who I am, and what I have REALLY been up to… which, incidentally, is nothing, well nothing bad that I directly have done. I have been sober for 8 months, relapsed, had a ‘violent boyfriend’ and been the victim of ‘rape’. But what went on before, the family have drawn their own conclusions, and I know for fact their drawings are little more than ‘sketches’ . . . . for whatever reason… . probably because I was in a Drink and Drug Rehab, the rumour is that I have been involved with DRUGS, and have a drug problem as well… . Jesus! I have enough problems with the ones I ‘genuinely’ have, and as far as ‘drugs’ go, it was so long ago that I had a ‘drag on a spliff’ I can’t remember—probably College, 20 yrs ago!

  Anyway, we started chatting and they went on to say how pleased they were to hear Barry’s news about the baby, and couldn’t understand why I hadn’t told them? What a bloody farcical joke—what do they care and when have they ever even shown an interest in Barry over the last few years? I must have spoken to mum about Barry and the baby, but the reason I haven’t told t
hem anything before about Barry’s situation, IS because, it is none of their bloody business, Barry being family or not, why should I give them something to ‘chew’ over and ‘spit’ out, and ‘regurgitate’, whilst milling over the moral fibre of a 50 yr old man having a baby with his 23 yr old younger ‘bidie-in girlfriend’? Oh, pleeezze, sorry I could be wrong (and I hope I am), maybe they wanted to know so that they could send down pressies for little Jamie’s Christmas? I don’t think so! I know they mean no malice, but let’s not be hypocritical here? There was a silence… bliss!

  I was saved by Roddy, the physio, who came in to see if I wanted to go round to the gym for a while, as it was important to keep up my exercises, and I agreed immediately, explaining to them first, that it was important, but I would see them on their next visit to Margie’s or when they were next coming down to buy a new tv or car, or somthing for the house, or whatever the real reason for being down was—not really to see me. That’s not self-pity, it’s true. I should be more grateful—I don’t know what’s wrong with me? Of course they understood… then, as I was leaving the ward they shouted, ‘don’t worry we won’t talk about you behind your back’, yeah, yeah, see ya soon, thanks for the visit! Anyway, just as Roddy was getting me set up in the ‘cage’, Margie came into the gym, followed by Tony and Tina, who handed me a packet of REVELS from the machine and 2 bags of quavers? Thanks guys, I love the afterthought, but more sweets… oh, what the hell. So once I got set up in the gym with my ‘unannounced’ audience, I asked Roddy if he would mind just showing them round the gym to settle their curiosity… . in fact, it was quite good for them to see where all the physio and physical acitvity goes on, and how much hard work it is, and get an insight into one of the activities involved in the rehab programme. When they got back after their ‘tour’ they said they had found it really interesting, and I believed them, as there were no sarcastic overtones detected and they honestly seemed genuine. When they were leaving I felt quite bad, because it had been a rather awkward visit, for me anyway, but I was sad to see them leave, and managed a feeble ‘bye’, and said ‘love you all’ under my breath…