One Split Second

by Gillian Crook

  I’m gonna watch some telly to take my mind off what I have just written. One day I will write about that as well, but for now, I have given the police all the info and hopefully I have helped someone just by doing that. Oh look, a txt from Pete… what it is with me and blokes? Bloody hell, Pete’s counting the days until he comes to see me, and says it is 18. He is also getting excited about seeing me and as if already mapping out our future together has said, ‘I’ve not to worry’, because he already has cripples in his family and he still loves me!! Oh, Jesus… tell it how it is why dont’ ya? what is going on… my life it’s mental. WHY OH WHY would he thinks in a million years that we have a future. He really is deluded and ‘going round the bend’ . . . Goodnight my luvverly kids, and keep them safe and Carly away from dangerous boyfriends, look after my mum, aunt Helen and all the family, Nite nite folks, I’m away to try and suffocate myself with that pillow again… .

  Thursday 13th December

  I have done a few things today… the mundane stuff, and even though I did have a shower I didn’t wash my hair, and then realised that I haven’t washed it for 56 days and no one has noticed, but honest, I’m not a clarty cow, in fact, I’m meticulously clean, and my hair looks good, or so I’ve been told. I only use the small mirror for doing my make-up, so I wouldn’t know much otherwise about my appearance these days and hardly ever look in my mirror, as it is too hard to hold and it’s really frustrating. It takes ages to put on make-up or do my hair, and I do manage sometimes, but because I dislocated fingers, it makes it very tricky to do the hardest of things, still the fingers are going to be fine, and thank god I can obviously write in the right hand—they’re just still sore whilst they’re healing. I have to rely on other people, like the nurses, to do my hair, pleating or straightening it, and I just get an idea of how I look if people comment. It’s the same with weight and clothes. I have no idea, but my legs, hips, bum, waist and chest, all feel MASSIVE—the bits I can see that have NOT put weight on are, my head, face, arms and boobs (shocking), they normally would feel large, but I get myself into some very odd positions and they don’t seem ‘to get in the way’ at the moment! Chances are I’ve got this all wrong because I haven’t seen myself in a long mirror, which is just as well, but they have put it on a list of ‘essentials’, because it is imperative that your skin is checked regularly and they have also provided me with a bendy stick with a mirror on it, and you would not believe what nooks and crannies that can get to!

  So, it was quite a rush, rush, rush, in the end, because, John the Hunter, came round hunting for me and Duncan to get us round to the gym because all the physios were going to be away this afternoon and all day tomorrow and they were going to have to shut the gym… so, I told John that short of falling out of the bed and dragging myself round there by my arms, it would be rather difficult to get there… but never the one to be beaten, he offered to get me a ‘chaperone’, and quite frankly, I couldn’t refuse his kind offer. So, I decided to wait paitently, whilst Duncan grunted in disapproval a few times, and pulled unwilling faces at me, in a feeble attempt that John, may say for him not to worry, but unfortunately John never took the bait, and said `we shall look forward to seeing you both round there shortly. So, Duncan, looking as if he was about to take on a marathon, labouriously started to push at a snails pace, his wheelchair out of the ward, and said ‘ see you there’, and I said ‘not if I see you first’ . . . normally I wouldn’t use that phrase, but on this occasion I was thinking about another phrase, ‘many a true word said in jest’ . . . bye, Dunc! Probably by the time Ducan made it round there it would have been lunchtime anyway.

  Margaret `Darling` was in today. She’s such a lovely lady… one of the auxiliaries, who loves my mum and always looks forward to seeing her, when she comes to visit. She is always making excuses for working in the hospital because of her age, which is only about 60, but she feels guilty that she could be denying someone younger a job. I’ve told her before that she can do the job better than most 20 year olds, and she shouldn’t feel guilty just because she is doing a job that she enjoys and gets paids for it; there’s not many people nowadays that can say that. Personally, I think she is lacking in confidence when it comes to her ability to do the job now because of her age, and I’ve said to her that, so what if she has to takes the odd morning or afternoon off, here and there, at least she asks for time off and doesn’t just stay off irresponsibly. She is quite religious, and loves the fact that my family is catholic, and my mum went on to have 8 kids. Not only does she love mum, she loves meeting my family when they come to visit. Also, the reason I call her Margaret Darling, is because one day she asked how I was and I said `fine thanks Darling`, and she was so flattered when I called her darling, now every time she goes passed the ward and can’t come in, she shouts ‘hello darling’, and I reply ‘you to Darling’! It’s so quaint and so is she and it’s only a bit of fun!

  Anyway, Margaret could chat away for Scotland, and she was trying to break her own record, when I had to ask her to be quiet because Mr Templar had come round to talk to me about some blood samples. Apparently, he hopes to do the op next Wed if all the samples are ok. With that, the dentist came in to see me, and was telling me that at the moment there was nothing they could do for the tooth immediately, but that when I was getting my op done on wed, they would organise to get me to the ‘aux-filio dept’ (or something like that) by an in-house ambulance, and sort out the tooth at the same time. Yippee! Result, something was actually going to happen! They told me that at the moment, though, they could only prescribe painkillers, but I did ask that I am prescribed the strongest they had, otherwise they would have to anaesthetise the mouth and gums until the Op. I was taken round to the gym for about an hour, and when I got back to the ward for lunch, Duncan was refusing to eat any, which is most unlike him, because he normally loves his grub. So, I asked him what was wrong, and he told me that he had just been taken away for ‘bladder management rehabilitation’ instead of the gym. I was bad… I just laughed at the thought of him and his efforts to get to the gym to shut John up, and then being told he didn’t need to be at the gym because he was going to be taken somewhere else! I felt guilty for laughing, because I realised that he was not amused, and not because he was annoyed, it was because of this part of his rehabilitation. Part of the guys rehabilitation is bladder control (so I’ve been told), and this is where they have to train the bladder to open and close at certain times, and at the moment, they have to try to pee every 4 hours using a tapping method, which means getting up through the night. So they have to ‘tap’ their willy to see if they can ‘pee’, and once the bladder begins to get into a natural `rhythm`, then the docs can take the catheter out. Sounds really good to me, but there’s quite a lot of ‘pissing about’ (s’cuse the pun). I tried to cheer him up because I really think it’s a great idea, and wanted to encourage him, but his only gripe is that because of his age (a grumpy old bugger), when he goes to bed at night he likes to sleep straight through… so, I told him that at the moment it is only 4 hours between ‘tapping’, but it would no doubt settle down once the bladder gets into it’s own rhythm, and the time will no doubt go up to 6-7 hrs overnight! I really didn’t have a clue what the hell I was talking about—but I got the gist and I think I knew enough to make him see, that it wasn’t going to be all doom and gloom and it would benefit him in the long run as well as being far more hygienic and ‘normal’, bless him.

  The ward was fairly quiet, and we could hear both Jim and Sam ‘gargling’ away, and at times they sound like blocked drains. I’m sorry, but it’s true. So, I was just thinking before that sometimes I wonder where the time goes, because I get bored and wish time and my life away, and I know that’s really bad, but this afternoon it seemed ok. I txt Marie and mum to see how the shopping was going, and marion txt back saying that they WERE getting everything I asked for at a cost of £100… she’s having a laugh!! I will believe THAT when I see it!

 
I briefly spoke to Barry, because in his usual fashion, he phoned to say that he couldn’t talk, (well, as I’ve told him on soo many occasions, DON’T FRIGGIN PHONE THEN! aah!!) But, I remained calm and said hi and how were things going? . . . no reply… I told, him I was fine and just getting on with things and was excited about the Op, because when the pressure sore is healed I would then be able to get in the chair and I hoped it would be before they came up (and now, I don’t really think I’m gonna be in a chair at all, but I didn’t want to say anything negative), and he told me that I was to take it easy and do as I was told and not to do too much? He then shouted sorry, got to go’, . . . cheers Barry! Pete had txt me twice and one of them started, ‘hiya sexy’ . . . oh god, things are getting just a bit too famliar there again! Next I’ll be getting, ‘luv u’, at the end. Maybe I should find out if his lovely ‘fake’ wife Li has a mobile phone, mmh? You know what? I have NEVER really forgiven him for beating me up, and I wonder if he meant it when he said the other day, that his life changed the night he did that, and that he has NEVER forgiven himself and never will!! Well, I bloody well hope so, no-one deserves to be at the receiving end of someones wicked possessivness and insecurities. I hope he hasn’t forgotten the cruel controlling and mental abuse either!?

  Well, I went to txt the kids to say goodnight, and I noticed a txt from Maclean (my nephew and god-son who you should know by now?), which was a lovely surprise, so I txt him back. Then I sent a txt to Marie to say ‘thanx’ for getting my shopping and I would spk to her tomorrow, bless! I then thought it best that I just txt the kids before I got caught up in anything, because I ‘needed’ the guys that were in. Oh yes, Stephen and Ian were working tonight, and I had to be changed by them, which I HATE, but I can’t just lie here in my own faeces, it’s degrading and so undignified, but there is nothing I can do, I have to ask whoever is on! Oh, fuck me, I have just got a spasm going straight through me, and it’s pushing my back, up against the cotsides… I am gonna stop for a moment.

  Oh god. Ok, I’m ok now, I just had to ride that one through… it leaves me almost breathless, and it felt as if a 20 stone man was pushing against my chest! Well, where was I? just about to ask the guys to change me. WHY GOD, WHY ME? I think that so much in this Unit. I swear I will never, ever, as long as I live, NEVER EVER get over having to get my backside changed by 2 guys or even females for that matter. The thing is that they can talk about what they are going to have for supper whilst changed my horrible soiled bottom and bed at the same time; and talk about working up an appetite. ( I feel like boacking). Credit to them, they do their best to make me feel better, by telling me they are nurses and nothing like this ‘phases’ them, so not for me to worry’. They are decent guys and good at their job. I’m nice and clean now, and still cringing from the experience, and they’ve probably gone to phone for their chinese take-aways now.

  I was thinking when they were ‘cleaning me up’ that I have no urges for guys and do not look at them in a sexual way at all… for the moment at least, and god knows if I will ever see myself as ‘attractive’ or a proper ‘woman’, ever again, sometimes I think that Barry is lucky to have found someone else—even though they got together before the accident? I can’t imagine being with a guy ever again, I’ve resigned myself to that fact, and that doesn’t mean to say I’m gonna be with women instead, I’ve just involuntary given all that malarchy up now, plus I would never burden any guy with having to cope with my disability, and all the problems that come with it. One look at me trying to drag my legs anywhere would be enough to put any guy off, and I’m absolutely gutted that I’m never going to be able to put my legs behind my ears when I having sex any more! Now that REALLY annoys the hell out of me!! . . . . JOKE! What a raw deal that is? Mum, I’m kidding!! I’m gonna have to get all these fantasies out of my head… I’m bad, and I love it!

  I don’t fancy Pete, even though I did at one time obviously, but at the moment, even though I shouldn’t be in touch with him, it’s not because I want anything from him, it’s was purely out of curiosity, and now that I’ve made contact, I know now I shouldn’t have, but it’s too late, so I’m going to use him for a bit, because he fascinates me, and I’m also intrigued by his antics, and what he is bloody well up to! I’m actually getting a ‘guilty pleasure’ watching him, giving himself enough rope to hang himself!! Oh, yes, sorry to say it. I think he should be caught, especially with the illegal immigrants scam, and even though I wouldn’t be the one to ‘squeal’, I think next year his game will be up. Let’s hope that little baby Tommy Li, doesn’t get caught up in the middle of a war zone. You know, Pete is unbelievable, he really is going to bring his newly manufactured little family in to see me, I wonder how authentic his little scam looks?!

  Just to go back to what I was saying about not being with a guy again. I hope I don’t repeat myself too much, as I’m sure it’s quite repetative, but it does go through my head a lot, so I hope you understand, and don’t get too bored. If I couldn’t talk to my book, god sake, I think I would have been certifiable by now. I’m sorry, but I used to love to love a bit of a flirt when I would be out with my mates, but don’t most of us girls??? But, now, in fact, I’m looking forward to being out there and being a single, independent woman—even though, I think that could be a long way away—I have lots of rehabilitation ahead of me, and guys really should be at the bottom on my list of priorities… Oh, that hurt to write—I love guys, all kinds!!

  I put off talking to Pete tonight and txt him that for some reason, Ooouucchh, my legs were burning and I was with the docs who were going to give me some diazapam to help relax my spasms. Anyway, he txt me back saying `thats ok, don’t mind wot time u txt as long as I hear from u and 2 no ur ok. I am on break 2moro at 11. ok talk then, nite nite luv u Goofy`. Oh my god, remember the joke?? Not only did he used the L word, he used his pet name, Goofy!! This is getting worse and worse! I’m gonna say goodnight, before something happens down below and I have to be changed again by the guys. Signing off for tonight and lets hope the burning stops… . Nite Nite to everyone I know and love, and any guys that I have had fun with, I love you all!! I’m really, really bad! I wish… boo hoo!

  Friday 12th December

  Woke up feeling ok until the posse came round and I found out from Dr Didn’t, that they COULDN’T do my op on the 17th… . help! I want to scream! He told me I am going to have to wait until 24th because they can’t fit me in on Wed. Christ sake, I explained that surely, I am at my fittest with all my swabs coming back negative, and wouldn’t it be silly not to operate, so as NOT to risk any chance of infection between now and a week Wed. He went on to explain that at this stage in the healing process of the pressure sore, there was a chance that it could heal naturally by itself. OH MY GOD, I could feel depression setting in. If nothing happens before the 25th Dec, then I want to be put into isolation and hibernate over xmas and new year, except to come out for a couple of days when my kids come up. I will get a third, fourth opinion if necessary. At this rate it could be months before this wound is healed and this could be detrimental to the state of my mental health and I will need an urgent appointment to see the hospital clinical psychologist, which may help me in my quest to get some ‘happy pills’ prescribed in order to get me throught this whole friggin depressing episode. (By the way, I’m not really going crazy… . honest!) aah! Get that girl a straightjacket!

  Anyway, I suppose I can’t dwell (I could but I ain’t going to). I have asked to speak to Mr Templar and I can’t do anything more than that now, and I had better get to see him. I have decided I will go on the prone trolley, but patients, docs, visitors and anyone that gets in my way should be warned that I really am not a happy bunny. You know I think I must be driving the staff nuts, because I am driving myself nuts. Decided to go through the canteen and see what was going on in there, and I saw a big slob on a bed, and yes it was David, ciggie or joint in one hand and coffee in the other and his headphones on… decided just to wave
and carried on in the direction of Mr Templars office. My phone was driving me nuts, keeping indicating that I had a txt to read. I checked my phone and there was a couple from Pete, and basically he was making out that `I am the most important thing, and when I contacted him I brought him back into my life and there he would stay, so if he wanted to worry about me he would, ok, sweetcakes` . . . fuck me… sweetcakes, he has never called me that before… now he is making up new pet names as well. Oh, my good god! I’ve unleashed Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. I HAD to send him a txt back, telling him that I hated the name sweetcakes, and that I had only got in touch to say ‘hello, not to start going out again, and that he should be focusing all his attention on Li and the baby as they were now his no.1 priority and responsibility and she was the mother of his child and that I was looking forward to meeting them’, meaning all THREE of them?` I hoped that he might have got the message with that and the fact that I stressed ALL THREE!