Chapter Six
Drama Queens
‘I’ll be back in the morning,’ said Mum, after I was settled on my bed and the nurse had told her three times that she had to leave. Her eyes filled up with tears and she ignored all her requests to go even though the nurse was built like a heavyweight wrestler and Mum is a size eight. A badge on the nurse’s uniform told us that her name was Abbie. She was so sweet with Mum, talking to her like she was about five and as if she were the one having to stay in hospital. I felt torn. Part of me wanted her to go so that I could get the attention I deserved, and part of me wanted her to stay because I didn’t want to be alone in a strange place. The part that wanted her to go seemed to be winning. I felt miffed with her. I was the one in pain, the one whose life had been ruined, but she was acting as if it had all happened to her.
‘I’m OK, Mum. You can go,’ I said, but I still had my sulky face on. I couldn’t help it. I had never felt so miserable. I had been motoring along nicely in the fast lane and now life had shoved a great big STOP sign on the road.
‘You really have to leave now,’ repeated Nurse Abbie. Her dark round face looked weary as if she had had a long day.
Mum stuck out her bottom lip and it wobbled as if she were about to burst into tears. ‘Just another minute with my baby . . .’
‘I’m not a baby. I’m twelve! Just go,’ I blurted. ‘I’ll be fine.’
‘Have you got any painkillers?’ Mum asked the nurse.
‘Oh, don’t worry. We’ll provide them for Marsha if she needs medication,’ said Nurse Abbie.
‘Not for her! For me,’ said Mum, and the nurse gave her an exasperated look before walking away.
Mum wrapped me in an enormous hug, clinging on to me when I tried to pull away. ‘Mum, just go. I will be OK, at least I probably will. Um . . . tell Dad – just in case anything goes wrong with my operation tomorrow – that I didn’t mind that he didn’t come to the hospital and felt it was more important to go to the pub with his rugby mates. He wasn’t to know that it’s as serious as it is.’ (That will make him feel guilty, I thought. And I hope it does too!) ‘And tell Cissie that if I die, she can have my DVDs – no, no, let Lois have them. And Eleanor can have my pink baseball cap, the one with Princess written on it. She’s always wanted that.’
‘Oh, don’t talk like that. You know your dad would have been here,’ Mum sobbed. ‘I told him you’d just had a fall – I mean it’s not the first time, is it? But it’s never meant an operation before. Oh, oh, I can’t leave you like this.’
‘Yes. Yes, you can. Go on, back home, to my sisters, to your comfy bed. Oh, I do hope I see them again . . . yes, go . . . I’ll be all right in this cold, strange place. I’ll be fine.’
I put on my best heroic face at this point, but it only made Mum look more anxious.
‘Oh, come on, Mum. It’s not like I’m really going to die or anything, although . . . I have heard of people going into hospital and never coming out again.’
Mum let out an audible sob and I saw the girl in the bed to the left glance over. She looked as if she were about to burst out laughing. She was about my age and looked like an Afro princess lying propped up on pillows, pillows that didn’t look like the lumpy hospital kind on my bed, and she was dressed in bright red silk PJs that most definitely weren’t hospital issue. There appeared to be something wrong with her leg, because it was propped up by pillows under the blanket. I suddenly felt embarrassed for Mum carrying on. She could be such a drama queen!
‘My darling baby,’ she murmured into my hair. ‘Your poor arm and your poor hair too.’
‘Mu-um,’ I groaned.
‘Mrs Leibowitz,’ called Nurse Abbie.
‘Coming, coming, going, going,’ Mum called back, and she finally let me go. She got up, sighed loudly à la tragic heroine, with the back of her hand on her forehead, made her way along the ward and at the end she stopped, turned, sighed again and flounced through the double doors, leaving them swinging in her wake.
I glanced over at the girl in the red PJs. She was staring at me.
‘Nice performance,’ she said.
I rolled my eyes to the ceiling. ‘I know. She’s always like that,’ I said. ‘So embarrassing.’
‘Not her,’ said the girl. ‘You.’
‘What do you mean? Me?’
The girl laughed. ‘All that oh, I might die stuff, laying it on with a shovel.’
I felt outraged. ‘Laying it on with a shovel? Er, excuse me, but you don’t even know what happened to me.’
The girl shrugged. ‘Yeah, I do. You broke or twisted your arm or something. I heard the nurses talking about it before you came up. Your poor mum. You were really making her suffer.’
‘I-I—’ I was lost for words. Hadn’t she got eyes as well as ears? Couldn’t she see my terrible dilemma? ‘It’s not just this you know. I was up to play the main part in the school show. All that’s gone for a burton now, I bet. My whole life is ruined because of this . . .’ I turned away. I didn’t want to talk to her any more. She was obviously so wrapped up in herself that she didn’t care about anyone else.
‘You’re not the only one whose life isn’t working out. So get over it. At least you will. You’ll recover. There are people in here who are really ill, you know.’
I turned back to look at her. ‘Oh, sorry. I . . . er . . . are you very ill?’
‘Not me. I’ll recover too,’ she said, then lowered her voice and jerked her chin towards someone in the third bed in our section. ‘Amy down there.’
I couldn’t see much of who was in that bed, just the top of someone’s head, someone with brown hair. Oh God, there are sick people in here, I thought.
‘What’s the matter with her?’ I whispered back to the girl but she had returned to her magazine as if she had lost interest in me. ‘Oi, you,’ I hissed.
The girl turned round. ‘Skye,’ she said. ‘My name is Skye not Oi, you. You need to learn some manners, girl.’
‘I . . .’ I felt like someone had poured a bucket of cold water over me. I don’t like you, I thought. ‘And you need to learn to be more sensitive,’ I said. ‘This is my first time in hospital, you know, and although, OK, I might not be dying, I don’t like it and I don’t want to be here.’
Skye shrugged. ‘Welcome to my world,’ she said, before returning to her magazine. I decided not to ask what was wrong with Amy. In fact, I wouldn’t talk to Skye at all if I could help it. Just because we were in the same ward didn’t mean that we had to be friends.
I looked around at my surroundings properly. I hadn’t had a chance when we’d first got up there because Dr Sam had been waiting for me and had swished the curtain round my bed while he hoisted my arm up into the air in the Bradford sling thing. I’d felt like a right banana when he’d finished. I would have to sit upright all night with my arm bound up in sky-blue spongy stuff and the whole contraption was strung up to a hook on the wall beside the bed.
‘For your comfort,’ he had said, but I couldn’t get my head around that. Surely it would be way more comfy if I could lie down with my hand by my side? It felt cumbersome having it up in the air because I couldn’t move it. This is how prisoners who are being tortured must feel, I thought, as I squirmed to get into a position that was comfortable. Only I haven’t done anything bad.
From my vantage point, the ward appeared to be divided up into different sections. There were four beds in my bit, one of which was empty. I glanced down to Amy’s bed, but still couldn’t see her, and at that moment a female doctor walked past and pulled the curtains round her. I looked around at the rest of the ward. The walls were white, the curtains a bright turquoise and the lights overhead were really bright. I didn’t like what was happening and I didn’t want to be there. I wanted to be at home under my soft, cosy pink duvet surrounded by my things. A wave of anxiety came over me when I thought of what I was in for in the next few days. I had slept away from home before, loads of times, at camp or sleepovers, but never in a plac
e like this. A place that was full of strangers and sharp steel instruments and the smell of disinfectant. Suddenly I wanted Mum back. It’s only for a night, I told myself. You can do this. I blinked back sudden tears and hoped that no one had seen and thought that I was a weed.
‘Hey, newbie,’ called the Afro princess. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Marsha,’ I said, but I didn’t look at her when I said it and I hoped she got the message that I didn’t want to talk to her.
The noise of a trolley being wheeled into our section disturbed any conversation and the smell of boiled meat hit my nostrils.
‘Dinner,’ said Nurse Abbie. She bustled over to me, pushed a movable table over the bed and then plonked down a tray of food. A piece of meat with onions and some tinned sweet corn. It looked and smelt disgusting.
‘No, thanks,’ I said.
‘Aren’t you hungry?’
‘Yes, but I’m not eating that.’
Nurse Abbie laughed. ‘Can’t say I blame you, darlin’, but it’s all you’s a-gettin’.’
‘Then I won’t eat anything.’
‘I’ll leave it here a while,’ said the nurse. ‘You might change your mind later when you get hungry.’
She moved off towards Skye. I felt so frustrated. The smell of the food was making me feel nauseous but there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t push it away, nor could I get up and walk away.
‘Need some help?’ asked Skye.
I made a face at the food. ‘This smells disgusting,’ I said.
Skye laughed. ‘You’re quite the princess, aren’t you?’
‘No,’ I said. I objected to her insinuating that I was a princess, as if I were spoilt or something even though I had thought that she was a princess too. ‘It’s just that it smells horrible.’
‘This isn’t the Hilton, you know,’ said Skye. ‘So, unless you’ve got something tucked away, Abbie was right – that’s all you’re going to get.’
I shrugged and pushed the food away with my good hand. I must have overestimated the edge of the movable trolley, because the plate slipped and clattered to the floor, causing Nurse Abbie to jump.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ said Skye. ‘She’s having a tantrum now.’
‘No. I . . .’ I wasn’t having a tantrum. She so doesn’t get me, I thought as Abbie came over and, letting out a weary sigh, began to pick up the mess. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to break it.’ I felt tears prick the back of my eyes. I wanted my mum and my dad and Cissie and Eleanor and Lois. People who were on my side. An overwhelming feeling of frustration overtook me and I felt worried that I might start blubbing. I so didn’t want to do that in case Skye saw and laughed again. She had clearly formed a bad opinion of me plus there was something about her that seemed very street and I didn’t want her to think that I was uncool, a big baby, scared of being away from home.
The curtains round the third bed were pulled back and the nurse and doctor who had been in there came out. Their expressions were serious. I glanced over to try to see Amy but couldn’t see much – still just a head with brown hair on the pillow. I wondered what her story was. I thought about asking Skye, but noticed that she had put her headphones on.
After a while, Nurse Abbie came and took the food away with another weary sigh. I thought about asking her about Amy, but by the way she brusquely cleared everything away I gauged that she wasn’t in the mood for a chat. She positioned the small TV that was attached to the ceiling so that I could see it and she handed me the remote. After she’d gone, I flicked channels but there wasn’t much on. In the end I watched a detective story just to pass the time.
At around ten, the lights went out. I heard Skye snuggle down but Amy hadn’t stirred at all.
‘Night, newbie,’ whispered Skye.
‘My name’s Marsha,’ I whispered back.
‘Night, newbie,’ Skye whispered again. I didn’t respond and after a while I could tell by her even breathing that she had fallen asleep.
Lucky thing, I thought. It was so weird sitting in my strange bed in the dark. I couldn’t even lie down, put the covers over my head and pretend that I wasn’t there. In my upright position, my eyes grew accustomed to the dark and the ward filled with shadows. Outside I could hear the drone of distant traffic. Inside all was quiet apart from the occasional sounds of footsteps, voices, a door opening or closing in the distance. I knew that I was in a hospital surrounded by people – doctors, nurses and patients – but I had never felt so alone in my whole life.
Chapter Seven
Op Day One
‘Wargh!’ I cried as I felt a presence next to me. I opened my eyes. I didn’t know where I was. My eyes adjusted to the soft light of morning. It wasn’t a dream. It was a living nightmare. Bright overhead lights came on, flooding light into every shadow and I realized that I was still on the ward.
My brain hurt. My arm hurt. My eyes hurt. And I needed to go to the loo.
‘Just checking that you’re OK there,’ said a small blonde nurse with an Irish accent. I looked at her badge. It said that her name was Cheryl.
‘I-I need to move. My arm feels numb and I need the loo.’
‘I’ll unhook you and you can go,’ said the nurse.
It had been a horrible night. The whole time I could hear the nurses talking and laughing in their room down the corridor at the end of the ward and there were so many disturbances: lights going on and off, someone being brought in on a stretcher, lowered voices, strange beeps, moans, the sound of water dripping, machines clicking and someone (I suspected Skye) snoring. The thought of my lovely snuggly bed in my quiet room made me ache with homesickness. At last, however, I must have fallen into a light doze in the early hours because I wasn’t aware of anything more until Cheryl had appeared.
‘Won’t be long now,’ said Cheryl again. ‘They’ll come and get you soon, so they will.’
Great, I thought, the sooner the better, then I’m out of here. ‘Soon when?’
‘Maybe in about an hour.’
‘An hour?’ It sounded like such a long time.
Cheryl nodded and shoved some kind of contraption in my ear. It made me jump.
‘What’s that?’
‘It takes your temperature,’ she said, and then she put a black plastic armband round my arm. I knew from yesterday that it took my blood pressure.
‘Can I have a cup of tea or some juice?’ I asked when she’d finished.
Cheryl shook her head. ‘Nothing until after the op.’
‘So why did you wake me?’
‘To check that you were all right.’
I groaned. ‘I was all right. I was asleep. And now I’m not. So I’m not all right. Why didn’t you just leave me?’
‘It’s my job to check on people in the morning.’
‘That’s so totally cruel. Surely the kindest thing would be to let people sleep?’
Cheryl shrugged. ‘Rules is rules, so they are.’ She unhooked me so that I could go to the bathroom then she tottered off to poke Skye awake. She didn’t seem too pleased about it either and groaned loudly. ‘Leave me alone.’
I hobbled to the loo. My ankle was still sore, but not as bad as yesterday. When I came back into the ward, I saw Cheryl tiptoe over to Amy’s bed and take her temperature. She didn’t wake up. Lucky thing, I thought. She’s dead to the world. And then I shuddered. She was lying very still. Ohmigod, maybe she is dead!
Skye had turned over and gone back to sleep. Cheryl hooked my arm back up, but I couldn’t go back to sleep. I was wide awake. I saw that there was a remote control by the side of the bed that was labelled ‘bed adjustor’. I decided to press a few of the buttons to see if it would make my bed more comfortable. I pressed on the controls with my good hand to see what it did. Legs up, legs down. Cool, I thought. Mattress up a bit, down a bit. Up, down, forward, back. And then my hand slipped and the bottom half of my bed began to rise. My legs went up and up – if I wasn’t careful, I was going to fold in two.
‘Ooooo
o whoaaaa, Nurse!’ I cried.
Cheryl was there in an instant and I could see that she was having a hard time not laughing.
‘It’s not funny,’ I said. I felt close to tears again. I was really thirsty. ‘How long before they come to get me?’
Cheryl checked her watch. ‘Forty-five minutes or so,’ she said, and she scurried off back down the ward.
I groaned again.
‘Be quiet, newbie,’ Skye called from her bed. ‘Some of us are trying to get some kip here.’
‘And some of us are trying to find something to do. It’s so boring in here,’ I said, and kicked off the sheets. ‘And so hot.’
In reply, Skye put a pillow over her head. Soon after, she got out of bed and hobbled down the ward with her toilet bag, so I presumed that she was going to the bathroom.
While she was gone, Cheryl came over and said that my mobile had bleeped. Someone had been trying to get through.
‘My mum,’ I said.
‘No. He said he was your guardian.’
Must be Dad, I thought, and about time. ‘But I thought that we couldn’t use our mobiles in here.’
‘You can text and occasionally take a call,’ said Cheryl. ‘Do you want me to get it for you?’
I nodded and Cheryl rooted around in my drawer. She pulled out the zodiac phone and was about to hand it to me.
‘Not that one. The silver one,’ I said. ‘I won that one. I don’t even know if it works.’
Cheryl looked back in the drawer then handed me both phones. ‘Yes, it does. It was this red phone that was bleeping, but you can see if you have any messages on either.’
I looked on the screen of my usual phone. There was one message, but it wasn’t from Dad. It was a text from Lois.
Ohmigod. Wl cm 2 C U l8r. Lois. XXXXX.
I checked again to see if I had missed the one from Dad but there was definitely nothing else on there. I looked on my zodiac phone. I pressed what seemed like the ON button on the keypad and seconds later, it bleeped that I had a message. I found the message section and read:
Dancing Queen (Zodiac Girls) Page 4
