One Split Second

by Gillian Crook

  I went back to the ward and Duncan was having a bit of a bad turn; (trouble with severe spasms) . . . well, it wasn’t long before he woke up and he started straight away with his sarky comments. (Oh, Duncan, I like him a lot, but, by god, he can really irritate me sometimes).

  I have really cut down on my sweets this week… ha ha, it’s only Tuesday. I had sent Casey a long txt last night about the situation regarding CJ and dad, and that I would make sure that the carry-on regarding the christening would be sorted. Anyway, she obviously appreciated it, and sent me a long txt letting me know how she felt. You know, dad has really not thought this through… he doesn’t have a clue how much this has hurt Casey and I’m really annoyed at him. Casey has resigned herself to the fact that dad won’t change his mind!!

  Later on, I received a phone call and it was Casey. She sounded very tense… then I spoke to Barry, and he sounded very tense too. We talked about my day and I told him I had a productive day and he genuinely sounded interested, THEN, when I broached the subject regarding the christening, he dismissed it and said that they had postponed it for the time being and no decisions had been made on ANYTHING! He then told me that Casey had been at counselling today. I was mad at myself for not asking her how it went. He put her back on the phone, and she didn’t say too much but whispered that she would phone me again when dad wasnt listening; my God, I feel so bad. Barry came back on the phone and said the counsellor was happy to continue seeing Casey as long as she wanted to. In fact, Casey told me before that she enjoys her sessions with the Counsellor, bless her! Oh, I really hope she is ok, it honestly DOES break my heart, I can feel it go heavy, and I really can feel it ‘weighed down’ by sadness, because I want to be there with her, to support her. Actually, my name is down on the list to see the Clinical Psychologist, and I think I really do need to discuss the accident, because, to be honest, it all is a bit of a blur… and I’m not blaming the alcohol this time! (or do I? who knows? . . .). I need to fill in the gaps between me losing conscientiousness and waking up in Derry, and then how much I remember before the morphine took hold. I’m sorry if I keep jumping from one subject to another without any notice… that’s me doing my ‘Ronnie Corbett’.

  I’m about to be turned soon, but I must tell you, I am watching a bit of TV and it’s got, ‘—V—Graham Norton’ on, I think he is hilarious and takes risks at how far he can go with TV’s watershed! Oh, here come the ‘two fat ladies, number 88! Bingo’! Nurses Colleen and Linda!

  Wednesday 26th November

  When I woke up this morning I felt ‘bloated’, because last night’s nurse had forgotten to give me my suppositories (I don’t know if it’s the right spelling), and, I’m sure it’s purely psychological, but when I empty my bowels by using the tablets, I feel ‘thinner’? mental, eh? Anyway, that’s not important just now because something happened this morning that nearly left me suicidal. When the breakfast came round it was about 8am, and because I was more concerned about the tabs, I forgot something… . first, I ate some grapefruit and half a roll cause I was hungry, then secondly, I took my morning pills, THEN, just as I had swallowed my pills, Drew the staff nurse came running into the ward and shouted… .” DddOooNnnTtt EAT ANYTHING! (as if in slow motion) . . . or have you?? Just then I saw Danny, the Porter… and then it clicked… my GAAAAWWWWDDD, it was WEDNESDAY. The OPERATION DAY! of course, I shouldn’t be eating before an operation… AND the night before I should have had a sign up saying, ‘nil by mouth`’!! I was totally, totally pissed of. In fact, I was so upset, that I just asked Drew to pull the curtain over and leave me alone! I was inconsolable. He was trying to apologise on behalf of the night staff, as they should have got me ready for the Operation early and they were totally at fault… they hadn’t read my notes; and he was the bloody DAY staff, so it wasn’t really Drew’s fault; so WAIT till I see them tonight if they are in, I am sooo mad! Once the curtain was shut, Drew went off to get me a ‘nice cup of tea’, and I asked him to shut the curtain over. I just lay in the bed and cried and cried, I was so frustrated. This wound is really ‘driving me to distraction’, I hate it, it’s ugly and horrible and I feel like a leper. Just everything at the moment is getting to me. I miss Plymund and my friends, even though I thought it was shitty, but it was my shitty mess. I miss my children, I even miss Barry when I feel like this and I always miss my mum, but most of all I MISS my fuckin, LEGS!!! Then the cry turned into sobs; I hate this place and I hate the doctors, staff and even the dinner ladies!

  Drew tried to console me when he came back and I was at the ‘catching breath’ stage of crying, then he told me that he had phoned Mr Templar, and that HE was going to come up and see me personally. At least I held out some hope for ‘something’ to be done and I knew he wouldn’t let me down. So I sat with Drew for a while. He is so lovely, a large cuddly guy, a bit like a fair haired Robbie Coltrane, in fact it was Drew who was the big guy in my hallucigenic nightmare, so I’ve told him to stay away from his evil twin!!

  About 10.30 am Mr Templar appeared and went ‘knock, knock’ on the curtain, he came in and asked how I was, and I told him I was, gutted, depressed and disappointed! I nearly started crying again and getting emotional and I think he could see just how much this Op meant to me, so he promised that he would see me later and would not let me down! I was so relieved because I knew he was sincere. Mr Templar left, but I kept the curtain closed for a little privacy, even though you get shit privacy… one scabby curtain, that never meets up at the join to the other curtains, and some even look as though they have been keeping the moths busy. So I fell back to sleep. When I woke up, it was Dr Didn’t, . . . he just popped his scrawny little neck round the curtain, then with hands behind his back said to me, “I’m so sorry Mrs Crook, I must apologise on behalf of the Spinal Unit Staff” . . . I was polite but couldn’t remember exactly what he was apologising for because crying makes me tired, and I had fallen into a deep sleep, at least, deep for a morning nap! Then when I did wake up… I WANTED BLOOD!!! I remembered, oh well, I suppose I was in the right place… anyway, my mood passed and lunch was going out, but wasn’t hungry. Being hungry is a nice feeling, and I enjoy being peckish (bulimic bahaviour, but don’t ask me where that came from!). Duncan, bless him, was in his wheelchair at the side of his bed, and instead of being his usual annoying self, I say annoying in a ‘cutesy, grandadishy’ sort of way… he was really sweet, and told me he was there for me if I wanted to talk. Anyway, Rhona came round and told me that I would have to wait until about 3 to get the prone trolley as Hose was on it… . ok… . so I did a bit of writing; I wrote a letter to the my Aunt Helen, she has always been there for me and the rest of the family… . she isn’t keeping too well at the moment, so I want her to know I am thinking of her. Actually, writing the letter made me feel better. Then Drew came in to see me to let me know that Mr Templar was going to be round to see me at 4. So that gave me enough time to go on the trolley for three quarters of an hour and then be ready for him. Well, on the ball, Rhona came around with the trolley and I went on for a bit. It is quite nice actually, when I went past hose’s window I gave him a little wave, he is a lovely looking black guy, and it is so sad to think that he was caught in that bloody awful crossfire. Thank god he was able to come to this country. I can empathise with him with regards the injury—we have both been let down by our respective first hospitals, i.e. his in Venezuala and mine in Derry, because when we were being transferred to this hospital, we had pressure sores that we hadn’t had on admission to the others, and, then we were both ‘diagnosed’ with the same ‘complete’ T7 injury… Life’s a perfect shit! Well, his smile would cheer anyone up, because to be fair, everytime I see Hose, he is smiling bless! When I got back to the room I waited for Mr Templar. He arrived 45 minutes late, but he didn’t let me down. He wheeled me into the little clinic room behind the nurses station and I was rolled over on to my front. He explained that he wouldn’t be able to do exactly what he was going to, because we weren’t
in surgery, but he did undress the bandages and clean out the wound to speed up the healing. He made sure the vac was working effectively, and then patched me all up again and said, ‘that’s good for today Mrs Crook, I shall check it out again on Friday or Saturday and schedule you in for Wed 3rd Dec, and don’t worry’. Well, the relief came right from my the bottom of my heart and I gave him a hug… he seemed quite surprised, in a nice way. So, I was wheeled back to the ward, and I made sure that DREW himself, put the date in bold and underlined in the book of PENDING OPS!!

  Everything after that was fine. I ate the tea which was a shepherd pie, and it was actually quite nice, then I just watched telly and sent txts to the kids… then by 9 oclock I was bloody hungry and ate 6 HUGE chunks of toblerone and then after about 5 minutes felt really, bunged up and sick (in a piggy way). YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN, WHEN YOU KNOW YOU HAVE EATEN TOO MUCH AND JUST WANNA MAKE YOURSELF SICK; It was so bad, I even asked one of the nurses to take away ALL the sweet things that I had on my table, on my bed and in the locker and wardrobe. She was a bit reluctant because she said I would regret it. I was having none of it… so she took them anyway and said she would leave them at the nurses station, and that if I didn’t ask for them back quick enough, they would all be eaten by the other nurses anyway… especially the night staff! Well, I’m gonna try and move now if i can!! I can’t manage to be sick, get up a proper sneeze or cough, and all because of my squashed diaphram! On that note I am gonna say, Bon Nuit mon amies et j’aime mes enfants, et mere and pere et tout les familie (I haven’t a clue if that’s right)!! And here’s to a sweet free zone… . for how long I wonder?

  Thursday 27th November

  OMG, bloody, Loud Linda, on today. I do give her as good as she gives out, but, by christ, she is coarse, Graham Norton is Playschool stuff in comparison to her… there was an Agency nurse in working with her today, and I was speaking to him and he said he could handle anyone… huh! I just smirked and said ‘good luck’! . . . by 10am he wanted to kill her!!

  I’m actually feeling quite bloated and sluggish today and that’s only after breakfast. Do I actually have to stop eating in order to get my ‘flat tummy’ again? Yup, I think I do! In the afternoon I was definitely going onto the prone trolley. Meantime, someone stopped me because the tube for the vac was hanging out and I had to go back to the ward to have it checked. I must admit, John and the other physios are really professional, they don’t miss a trick. I had no idea just how many different things they have to know and do… they are bloody mechanics, nurses, psychologists and sometimes it feels like I have a personal trainer as well. I know when Roddy was here on placement he was hoping that he could come back full time. That would be nice if he did… he could be MY p.t.

  When I got back to the ward I send more txts to; Joan, it was her 41st birthday; Simon (no chance, but I will try for a reply); Karen Mac (best buddie, but I will see her soon… wonder if she has learned to txt yet)! Yes, Karen can’t stand all these damn mobile things (as she calls them)—too intrusive!

  Feeling really sore and that corset is pulling soo tight. So, to take my mind off it, I thought I would offer when they came looking for volunteers to go into the dayroom to listen to some guy on a guitar. Well, lucky I went, because that meant there were 4 patients there, and that was including me. I wasn’t there that long when they brought the phone through to me and it was Casey. She was not a happy bunny, she was annoyed at everything; school, friends, Mitch, life, but mostly… DAD. So I just listened to her let off some steam, and then said “anything else you wanna get off your chest?” and she said “NO”, and we both said “goodnight, love you”. And I firmly believe after Casey getting all that out of her system, it was just that. A Good Night! I am watching a really disturbing documentary called ‘Chatting to Death’ and there are all these people talking about their suicides, or at least how they are going to plan it!! Someone is even going to set up his webcam for his ‘virtual’ friends to watch. Fuck!! SICK! SAD! DISTURBING! FREAKISH!! So, on that happy note, zzzzzzz

  Friday 28th November

  Well, I don’t know what’s wrong but I almost feel constipated… and at the doctors round I wanted to say something, but I don’t like to when there are so many of them in the posse, and especially when one of the student doctors is drop-dead-gorgeous (even better looking than Brad Pitt)!! John had said that today he would come back later because Mr Templar had wanted him to have a look at the pressure sore when it was getting dressed. Maybe I can say something to one of the nurses… (I get embarrassed at things like ‘stuck poo’—I’m even looking away as I’m writing this with a squashed up face like a prune and slanty eyes)!

  By the time I had had my shower and got back to the ward, it was lovely and quiet, but I must mention one thing… . at the top end of the ward, there is a patient and he is all wired up to various machines and all you can see is his head which is directed at the tv, and his arms just sit on his table. He has a ventilation mask over his mouth and he looks… spooky! I know that’s not very nice, but he does. When I asked the nurse, she was telling me that he had been in an accident and was paralysed from the neck down, but he also suffered 30% brain damage. When I asked about the ventilation mask, she told me it was the ventilator that was keeping him alive!! My god, what an existence… she then went on to tell me that he had been like that for for 5 years! Jesus, that’s awful. I asked her why he was in this ward, when he clearly, wasn’t able to do rehab. She said that the admission ward was only short-term, and that patients were treated there for their diagnosis results and injuries, until they were able to be transferred to Phillipstoll Ward for rehabilition. So the reality of it is that the only rehabilitation they can do for this man, called Jim, is now to keep him ALIVE!! Yikes!! I asked if he could understand people when they talk to him, and she said that he can move a small amount and gesture, but that’s about all. I think that is so sad! What a bastard life can be and what sort of life does that poor guy have now? What a terrible existence… god forgive me, but if that were me, I would just want someone to end it all for me and HIT THAT SWITCH! By the way (btw) for the record, they have their own supply of electricity to the ventilators, so they are not affected by mobile phones.

  So, back to my morning… well, staff nurse Lynn went off to get organised to do my dressing and telephone John H. to let him know to come round in the next 15 minutes. Meantime, I was trying to fiddle about with my phone, when Duncan woke up… well, it didn’t take him long until he was asking questions? He was asleep when the posse came round, and they didn’t wake him, so he asked me if he missed anything?. So, I told him that they were discussing him going home to Oban at Christmas time, and that there might be a problem? I was only kidding, but to see his face was priceless… he was blaming Dr Didn’t for everything, for not having organised it properly and he would ring his neck when he got hold of him. He was raging!! and, Dr Didn’t wasn’t even there today! Then Lynn came back into the ward with the dressings and Duncan asked her what had been said on the doctors round about christmas, and what was the problem with him going to Oban… Lynn explained that nothing had been mentioned about his christmas trip home, and that as far as she was concerned it was all agreed and arranged. He looked across and me, and rage coupled with relief, meant that he just grimaced and told me ‘he would get me back’. He’s not a bad old bugger, he can take a joke, but by god, when he starts on the staff, he really goes to town if he ain’t happy about something. I like him though. He just like a grumpy grandad.

  When John came round, Rhona was with him, then Lynn followed. She took the vac off first, then proceeded to take the dressing off. All the time she was explaining what and why she was doing. She seemed happy enough with the wound, but John did comment that it was ‘quite a size’!! Well, tell us something we don’t know! After that was done John showed Rhona how to help me do some stretching exercises… then… he went off and left us happily stretching! Even though I couldn’t feel my legs being mass
aged properly, it still relaxed me in some way, it’s very strange, and it must be psychological, because even though I know I can’t feel it… if I can picture myself being massaged, I can almost really ‘feel’ . . . aah, the stress ‘lifting’, aah, bliss! I wonder if they have any of those relaxation tapes!! Maybe I could use a tape rather than diazapam to get to sleep… I don’t think so!! Rhona also told me to speak to the O.T. Occupational Therapy Department, and I told her that so far they have given me a long bendy mirror, so that I can check my skin all over and it’s a pretty nifty thing. They’ve also given me a stick that helps me to pick up things, and I have aptly named that my ‘grabber’, grr! If only it was long enough for me to reach over and annoy Duncan somehow… I’m sure there will be something I can do.