Abbie's Gift (8 page)

“Thank you, I had no idea”. Abbie’s voice trembled slightly as she spoke.

“The Employee Assistance service is there for you if you need any support, advice or guidance on any matter at all. You call the number and give the policy number and they will put you in contact with appropriate professionals who can help - legal, financial advice, anything like that.  Also, just so you are aware, there is a confidential counselling service you can use, initially telephone then face-to-face if necessary. Overall we find it’s a good, comprehensive benefit for employees and their families, and it’s totally free for you. If at any time you wish to talk, these people can help.  Depending on where you are, NHS waiting times can be very long, so these people can help when you want it, just so you are aware”.

“Thanks”, said Abbie again, “I really appreciate all of this”.

The rest of the conversation was focused on Peter.  He’d worked for the firm for 4 years, and would be missed, Paul said.  Paul himself had met him only once previously, and Lesley not at all, as she was new to the company, based in their main office, and Peter had usually been located in the southern office. They spoke highly of him and his ability, he had been well-liked by everyone. They mentioned that several of his office colleagues had attended the funeral, and that everyone who had known him would miss him greatly.

For some reason, Abbie felt that these were just platitudes, pleasantries they felt they had to say but didn’t really mean.

Would he really be missed in 3 or 4 months, in years to come? No, forgotten, she thought, eventually people would say ‘Peter who?’  Only those very close ever remember.

After Paul and Lesley had left, both giving firm handshakes of reassurance, Abbie sat and stared at the cheque.  She realised she was in a way getting rich from Peter’s death, and this thought made her feel very uncomfortable;  however it was said, or described, it was completely true.

Although it had not come through yet, there would also be life insurance that would pay off the mortgage, and now this unexpected huge cash amount. She didn’t like it; although she was very grateful, it did feel somehow very wrong to her that, financially, he was worth more dead than alive.

Within a few minutes of her visitors’ departure, Abbie was changed and heading out for her run.  The day was overcast, but quite humid again, the colours still changing as autumn continued its inexorable progress towards winter.

Once in the park Abbie quickened her pace and she felt to her surprise physically quite strong, her limbs seemed to be up to the job. Her breathing was regular and steady, so she tried to clear all her thoughts and erase the meeting from her mind, and especially all thoughts of financially benefiting from Peter’s death.

Benefiting, being better off, what stupid phrases she thought; being better off would be having Peter alive, she would be better off with him, never without him.

After her circuit of the park, Abbie felt the fatigue begin to take hold as she approached the entrance gate; her legs no longer felt fresh, but at least her breathing wasn’t too laboured. She decided she hadn’t finished so she headed off in the direction of the hill, but even the path’s lower slopes began to sap her strength. Abbie had to dig deep into her energy reserves as she pushed upwards, her legs feeling like lead, and her pace very quickly slowed although her blood raced around her system with each thunderous beat of her heart in her chest, trying to force oxygen to muscles that didn’t want to move.

When her pace had reduced to a mere walk, when just putting one foot in front of the other became difficult, Abbie knew that somehow she must drive herself on, upwards, and not stop.

Abbie was just past the half-way point up the hill when her movement slowed so much that she was no longer running, she was almost staggering;  her lungs burned, and leg muscles felt totally solid. She put her hands on her hips and, raising her head, walked forward, gulping and gasping to get air into her oxygen-starved system. Although only walking, she was determined not to stop completely. She was aware of perspiration running down her back, her clothes damp and clinging to her skin.

Abbie turned and looked at the town below.  She knew that today’s run was all but over, but one day she was determined to make it to the top in one go.

Her legs felt as though she had run a marathon, and she found getting moving again difficult.  Although it was really relatively flat, the path seemed to be at an impossible incline.  Abbie managed to get into a slow forward movement, but her legs muscles rebelled as her heart rate and breathing increased again, pushing her towards exhaustion.

She slowly forced herself on, feeling pain in her entire body, her pulse echoing in her brain with each heartbeat. Eventually she reached the top of the hill and, without pausing to recover; she immediately turned and headed down the path, carefully retracing her steps over the rocks and uneven ground.

By the time she was on the flat Abbie had somehow, to her amazement, recovered sufficiently to break into a slow jog again, and she found that getting home was easier than she had anticipated.

Another 30 or so minutes of hard exercise behind her, Abbie stood in the shower and allowed the water to refresh and revive her.

It occurred to her that today, as difficult and tiring as the running had been, there hadn’t been any dizziness or wobbly feelings, no strange sensations or odd occurrences, no floating out of her body, just a run that had been demanding and difficult.  Abbie knew that she’d put in no less effort than on other days, in fact she’d run further up the hill than before.

She wondered why nothing odd had happened this time.   She couldn’t understand it; she’d been at the limit of her ability, so why hadn’t it happened?  What had she done, if anything, that was different?

Or had those things been imagined after all? A cruel trick of her grieving heart and mind? Maybe she had just not had the control that she had now, so her imagination had played tricks on her when she was at her lowest ebb.   Maybe, maybe…too many ‘maybes’, she thought, not enough certainty.

                            ………………………………………………………….

Just on 6 pm Kate arrived, her usual cheerful self and, somehow, Abbie immediately felt she could do without someone being this cheery in her presence right now.

That’s unfair and unkind, she thought, Kate was just being her friend and trying to look after her.  But still…

“You look well, been exercising?” queried Kate.

“Yes, several times, started running again, hard work, but good”.

“It must be, you do look well, its’ good to see you like this”.  Kate hugged her again.

Over a simple meal of cold meat, fresh bread and salad, they chatted for a while about nothing in particular. 

Abbie then announced suddenly that she was going into work to discuss returning.

Kate was unsure that this was a good idea and so soon, but Abbie insisted she was ready and able and - most of all - willing.

“I just want a diversion from everything that’s happened” Abbie explained. “I need some sort of routine again, a change from all this negative stuff that’s gone on for weeks now”.

“As long as you’re sure”, said Kate “in many ways it’s still early days for you. Just promise me, take it easy and don’t overdo it”

“OK, I promise”.

“Speaking of diversions, there was a substantial one today” Abbie began, “Peter’s boss”

“I was waiting for you to mention that, did it go OK?  I didn’t want to pry.”

“Well in fact it can’t be called a diversion because it really brings home the whole reality of my life”.

“What do you mean?” Kate was now looking concerned.

“This” said Abbie producing the cheque for Kate to see.

Kate was wide-eyed and for a few moments, speechless – so unlike her, Abbie thought.

“Some sort of company life insurance and I’m the beneficiary”.

“Christ”, exclaimed Kate, “that’s some potential diversion eh?”

“I feel guilty thought, like I’m profiteering out of Peter’s death”.

“Nonsense, it’s to help make life more manageable for you for the future, whatever happens and you choose to do. You are going to keep it aren’t you?” asked Kate.

“Yes, I guess so, but I can’t really imagine myself doing anything nice with it, that just seems wrong, but I am really grateful, honestly I am”

“Well” said Kate smiling “give it to me, I’ll show you how to spend it!”

Abbie immediately withdrew her hand and the cheque.

“Not a chance!” she said, “You’d spend it all on shoes and handbags”.

“Of course I would” replied Kate. “What else!”

They both laughed but deep down, Abbie was disheartened by her friend’s flippancy over the insurance money. 

Were people really not able to understand how this money made her feel?

Chapter 8

The next day the meeting with the Head teacher, Bill Summers, at the school was much easier than she expected.  Again condolences were offered, and comments of Abbie looking well.  He had concerns over her returning to work too soon, but she assured him that she felt ready and able, and that she would not do too much too soon, and would take things steady. She realised though this was easier said than done with a class of school-aged children. He most likely did also. A compromise was reached: as today was Friday, she would return to work a week on Monday, and do half days for the first two weeks.

Reluctantly Abbie agreed to this, but knew it made sense. The Head had also commented that a return to work needed to be sustained, to give her chance to rebuild her stamina both mentally and physically, and Abbie felt that he was probably right.

Whilst at the school Abbie met several of the other staff members.  Some seemed very ill-at-ease over how to react or what to say to a young woman who, to all intents and purposes, been widowed.

                            …………………………………………………………….

On the way home Abbie stopped at the supermarket to get some shopping and groceries.  It was only when walking across the car park that she realised that the last time she had been here was with Peter, the day before he’d died.

She collected a trolley and on entering the brightly lit store, she immediately found that the brightness and sheer size of the physical space alarmed her, making her feel very uncomfortable. There were people everywhere, some walking about shopping, others talking, others leisurely strolling with all the time in the world.

After several minutes of trying to adjust her senses and brain to this environment, Abbie gradually became aware of feeling totally out of her depth; her heart began to race and pound in her chest, and she felt her face flushing and her skin becoming hot. People seemed unnaturally close to her, faces every way she turned, bodies moving all around her. She was panting for breath, yet felt the air not really getting into her lungs. She stopped walking and gripped the trolley handle tight, and then she felt that sudden movement from within her, lurching to one side and then the other, as though her unconscious itself was struggling to get free. 

Dizziness flashed across her vision, and she feared she would faint. Abbie was acutely aware of perspiration on her face; so she took a deep breath and focused on where she stood. After a few moments the dizziness passed and Abbie felt able to move; she left the trolley where it was and walked out of the shop.  It was only once she had reached her car and closed the door that she realised the comfort of that self-isolation. Abbie felt really safe again, shut inside this metal box. As she leaned her head back against the seat, she felt her skin wet against her clothes, as sweat trickled down her back. Abbie felt exhausted, and realised she was only now beginning to experience a sense of control and perspective.

What was that about, she wondered, just an overriding sense of wanting to flee the brightness, the crowds…whatever it was it had driven her out of the shop completely. Abbie was thirsty and reached for a bottle of water that she always kept in the seat pocket in her car. It was half-full and the bottle a bit warm to the touch, she had no idea how old the water was, but didn’t care; her body welcomed the liquid, it was at least a bit cooler than expected and it soothed her constricted and parched throat.

Eventually the panic that had seemed to infiltrate every fibre of her being dispersed completely and she felt capable of driving home.

Abbie felt scared by these latest events; what was happening, was she going mad?

                            ………………………………………………………………..

On the way home, Abbie’s drive took her past the medical centre.  Suddenly, without so much as a second thought, Abbie turned into the centre’s car park: she needed an appointment with her doctor; she didn’t care what she said; she just needed to speak with somebody.

Inside the medical centre it seemed quiet; the morning rush had passed.

Abbie walked up to the receptionist’s window. The receptionist, a stocky lady Abbie guessed in her late 50’s, with a reddish face, dyed blond hair and a pale pastel coloured scarf tied round her neck at some odd angle, seemed to studiously ignore her for several seconds. 

Abbie thought that she looked like she should grace the cover of a women’s magazine, aimed at those of a certain age who were going through the menopause; the ones all about cakes and knitting patterns but never a mention of bodily functions. Abbie smiled to herself; at least if she was descending into madness, her sense of humour would be the last thing to desert her.

The receptionist eventually looked up in Abbie’s direction. God’s gift to the primary care service, thought Abbie sarcastically. Why do these people so often look so uncaring and disregarding, is it really necessary?  They could make the lives of the sick so much more tolerable just if they smiled.

Abbie’s initial conclusion was correct: the woman’s attitude and demeanour immediately made Abbie feel like an inconvenience, another person with a demand on her already-stretched services.

Abbie began, “I’d like to make an appointment”, but she felt tongue tied, and could not get the words out,

”to…to see Dr. Black please”.

Without a word, the receptionist tapped away at her keyboard.

“No nothing at all till next week. I can fit you in with a locum the day after tomorrow in the afternoon, will that do?”

Abbie felt awkward and lost, and was about to try to say no, when to her surprise Dr. Black appeared from behind the receptionist.

“Hello Abbie, nice to see you she said, she then turned and spoke directly at the receptionist and said, “No appointment necessary, I’ll see Abbie now”.

The receptionist looked bemused by the fact that she had just been overruled, “and Gill, no calls while I’m with Abbie “Dr Black said.

“Go to my room Abbie, down the corridor number 2, I’ll see you in there”

“Thanks” replied Abbie, not quite believing that she had somehow by the grace of God - certainly not that woman’s grace - got to see the doctor so soon.

The receptionist turned back to her screen and continued typing, without a second glance at Abbie.  As she walked away to the doctor’s office Abbie just shook her head.  They must deliberately pick receptionists like that to put you off being ill.

                            …………………………………………………

Dr Black was smiling when Abbie entered her office, and she motioned with her hand for Abbie to come in and sit down.

The room was warm and Abbie instantly felt uncomfortable and took of her coat, letting it fall off her shoulders and onto the chair behind her.

“How are you, I am not sure if you remember the fact I visited you a few weeks back?”  Dr. Black deliberately avoided saying the day Peter died.

“Kind of, but it’s a bit of a blur” Abbie replied.

“That’s OK, it’s allowed to be, how are you doing/”

“Oh you know, up and down, good and bad days”.

“So what’s today?”

“Not too bad, well this morning I originally had no plans to come to see you, but just kind of did out of instinct on the way home from the shops”

“Go on”

Abbie shifted a little in her seat.  “Well I’m sort of beginning to be able to feel that I can at least consider my life as it is now and to start to make plans”

“What sort of plans?”

“Well I was considering returning to work next week, only part time initially at least for a while.  I went into work and had a meeting, then went to the shops”.

“And so what happened that made you want to see me?”

“It sounds a bit mad really, but less than an hour ago in the supermarket, I just for a few moments seemed to lose the ability to function, and I kind of freaked out. I couldn’t deal with it, the brightness, the people, I felt totally overwhelmed and I guess I panicked and left.  No, that’s actually putting it mildly it was really horrible, it scared me”.

“OK” said the doctor looking at Abbie with concern. “Tell me, any of these symptoms - couldn’t breathe?”

“Yes”.

“Tightness in your chest?”

“Yes”.

“Palpitations?”

“Yes”

“Sweating?”

Abbie kept nodding, and could feel tightness in her chest.  She wanted to cry, but fought against it.

“Claustrophobia, needing to get out?” finished Dr. Black

“Oh yes”, replied Abbie.

“Then” said Dr Black smiling and leaning forward towards Abbie, “my diagnosis is that you’re completely normal, you experienced a panic episode.  Considering what you’ve been through these past weeks, and your current emotional state, you couldn’t cope with the surroundings you found yourself in.  It’s quite a common response actually”.

Tears trickled down Abbie’s cheeks. “I seem to be having these weird dreams too” she began, “I don’t know what about exactly but they’re really weird, like I’m awake”.

“To be expected, it’s in many ways a manifestation of the trauma, the shock you’ve experienced”.

They continued to talk.  For the next few minutes Abbie found herself opening up to the kindly middle-aged GP about her life, her career, her expectations, her realisations.  She referred to her recent unusual experiences as dreams; she didn’t have the self-conviction to discuss what she felt as being true.

Abbie also described her sporadic sleep, and limited appetite, the dizziness, the kindly doctor nodding and encouraging.  She did seemed pleased but a bit surprised when Abbie explained the intensity of her exercise, but then the doctor did insist that it was better than not exercising and would do her good.

When Abbie didn’t seem to have anything left to say, Dr Black approached the subject of her talking to a professional, but advised her only when she felt ready, to help her with her grief and maybe to help her make the correct steps forward that she had to take.

Abbie was really pleased, although she didn’t say so, that the doctor hadn’t suggested a prescription for anti-depressants.  Dr Black seemed to sense her relief though, telling her as she stood to leave that grief was not an illness but a natural process that a person has to go through. She told Abbie to come back anytime, especially if she felt she was not yet ready to return to work.

Her final words to Abbie were “consider talking to someone, it will help.”

“Thanks, I will” said Abbie, “I will”.

                            ………………………………………………………

At home, Abbie sat in the kitchen drinking a cup of hot Earl Grey tea.  The aroma of Bergamot soothed her as she listened to a delicate and dreamy Chopin piano concerto on the radio. Although it was mid-afternoon, she felt that she had already had a very busy day, done a lot and achieved things. Her mind felt tired, but she still wanted to go for a run.

Abbie decided not to run the hill today, but instead went steadily around the park perimeter dodging occasional dogs and rabbit holes that could have easily caused a tumble. The run eased her aching muscles by stretching them again. Abbie found herself growing more confident with her strides and was able to increase and reduce her steps as necessary dependant on the obstacles before her. She regularly sipped from a water bottle that she had remembered to carry with her, keeping thirst at bay. The whole run of about 30 minutes felt controlled and her increasing ability encouraged her greatly.

Later on, standing naked in front of the bedroom mirror, Abbie was aware of her figure seeming even flatter and fitter, athletic almost she dared to think. She was also aware of her body becoming physically stronger. She realised but dare not admit it to anyone, that as much as her desire to exercise had increased, her appetite of late had been greatly reduced, and she knew her body was burning far more energy than she consumed.

                            ………………………………………………….

That evening Abbie chatted to both Kate and her mum on the phone.  Kate was growing more responsive to the idea of a return to work than Rose, but then she didn’t tell either of them about the incident in the supermarket or her visit to the doctor. Rose, with the best of intentions, expressed concern about her possibly attempting too much too soon, but Abbie offered only unconvincing reassurance to her mother.

“Please take it easy love”, was Rose’s closing comment.

Abbie fell into bed at 10.30 pm, and like previous evenings, she put Peter’s dressing gown on the bed. She so wanted to sleep well, and wake refreshed, she hoped for no emotional torment from her mind tonight.

She lay in the middle of the bed and focused on her breathing, gently in, and slowly out, and with each exhalation, she felt herself becoming more relaxed. Her limbs were soon beginning to feel heavy on the bed, in that half-waking place of muddled thoughts just before sleep. In her mind she had an image of Peter smiling at her, she smiled and said quietly and softly, “I love you” her lips hardly moving with the sound.