One Split Second (20 page)

Oh well, might as well get the moaning out of the way early… . I have been hunting high and bloody low for my proper ‘specsavers’ glasses, and I’m soo bad at keeping any glasses, I always end up losing them, or just sitting them somewhere and forgetting. I’ve had 3 of the nurses helping me to look for them, but none of us can find them, so it looks like I have lost my prescription glasses; the only thing we can think of is that they could have gone out with the laundry (oh great!), because I have a habit of falling asleep with them on, and they have probably got caught up in the covers, grr! There is no point in getting mad, I’m just gonna have to use the ‘magnified’ pair, I ‘prepared earlier’ until I get to the opticians—actually, that was a bit stupid… how can I get to the Opticians, I’m stuck in a bloody hospital bed??

Well, the staff nurse is gonna phone one of the branches of ‘Specsavers’ and find out which one is nearest to the hospital and see (get it), if someone could go out for me to collect a repeat prescription. Didn’t know you could do that… but, what the hell, if they are gonna do that, fine! So, for the moment, you will have to bear with me till I find my ‘other’ ones and I will just have to hope I can still ‘see’ well enough to write… talking of ‘seeing’ . . . my best mate Karen, is as blind as a bat, and she cant even see properly with her contacts in… she’s hilarious, and has just passed her test after the 4th attempt! Bless… the roads definitely ain’t safe now!!! (Isn’t it strange how often you use the word see?). God, I must be bored…

Well, I have started talking to one of the older men in the ward, by older, I mean 74ish, but grandadish, if you know what I mean, in a cutesy way, aah! His name is Duncan, and he’s from Oban, I don’t know yet why he’s in here, but we seem to have a little bit of a banter going on. See when I said ‘cutesy’, I should have said ‘cheeky’, he’s a feisty ‘ole devil… great… competition! Actually, after talking to him for a while he was starting to piss me off, he is very ‘old fashioned’ and a bit ‘chauvinistic’ and ‘set in his ways’, but, not for long, hee hee, this could be fun—and at least I have someone to bounce of (not literally of course)! I’m actually getting quite short-tempered. I haven’t said anything yet, but I’ve noticed how quite a few nurses comment on how much I talk, and it’s starting to piss me off. I’ve got to settle my moods down. The papers have just come round and with my last £1, I bought a News of the World; I really only wanted it for the TV page and it’s supposed to have a DVD in it, that been advertised as ‘Peter Cowell’ (I think), Pop Idol 10 hits, I know I’m sad! I’ve just noticed something, and it’s really gonna annoy me… bloody cheek, it’s got to be collected from Safeway by Saturday or phone-line (which I’ve tried on the nurses station phone), and the damn phone line is constantly busy—well, well, well, I just had to give the phone back and now I am really pissed off, with good reason, because it’s a ‘principle’ thing and I don’t need a reason to get mad at the moment, because I’m getting mad enough without one!

Decided to go on the prone, good exercise but I felt really weak so went back to ward! Mmh, wonder why I’m so weak! I think being so sore all the time makes you weaker, cause your body is having to cope with the pain too, (if you know what I mean, cause I don’t?). When I got back to the ward it was quiet, so I got on with my exercises with a vengeance, then, ooh, yeeh! I picked up and
moved my own legs
!! Yikes it was weird… . by the way, it was me who moved them, they didn’t move by themselves—mores the pity!

Well, surprise surprise! Guess who walked through the door? My sister Amy, and her daughters, Caitlin and Susan… will get back to you on this. I’m really chuffed… visitors, and I wasn’t expecting anyone.

Well, I’m back. Amy hates hospitals, as you well know by now, so I hoped she would be ok, bless! Anyway, when it comes to food—Amy is the best… she brought me a ‘homemade’ sandwich, and I mean a proper ‘Farmhouse’, type… loads of salad and honey roast ham and mustard (I take back what I said yesterday, well in Amy’s case anyway), she also brought me some bits out of her fridge… . oops, it looked more like stuff that had come out of one of the kids’ lunch boxes after use! Ouch, Rewind! Sorry Amy… (I’m
not
taking back, what I took back earlier!), figure that out if you dare?

Then… Maclean, bless him, he’s my God-son and nephew, walked in… what a lovely surprise—more family. So we were all talking amongst ourselves, when Martin pulled something out of his pocket and said, “this is how pleased I am to see you!! Cue: worried and surprised looks all round… AND I’ve got a pressie for you”—Cue: strange looks from worried family members… , then I screamed out (and I really did scream) . . . Yippee! Cue: 2 fainted! (joke)! He had got me A MOBILE PHONE!!! You know, I was really chuffed, but I was surprised that I wasn’t really all
that
bothered, well I am, but I just can’t really get too enthusiastic about anything at the moment, but I was really greatful. Angela phoned, so she spoke to everyone else that was here, and then she spoke to me briefly and said she would be in to see me next weekend, so that’s good, I love Angela and Lawson to bits, and they’re Macleans parents! Angela’s tribe are ok, by the way, each individual family is a ‘tribe’—in fact, all the tribes are ok. It was great to see them all, but because of the way I was feeling, it was also great to see them all… . leave!, sorry… I’m tired!

Being in hospital gives me time to reflect, and it makes you think what’s important and what isn’t, and I suppose the accident is gonna have an impact on me and how I think now… just like that visit… it was really nice to see them all, and then for Maclean to join us, then Angela phoning, and for once the timing was actually perfect it was loverrrly! Shame it takes the accident, and I don’t think that’s the first time I have said that, to bring the family to see me! . . . or should it be that… has it taken the accident for me to see them?

Tonight Barry and the kids phoned, and I spoke to Barry first and told him about the day. Wrong move, he gets all sarcastic when I talk about the family, so I should know better, anyway, if he only thought; maybe I don’t really like hearing about ‘Shonah’, but I don’t complain to his face. Anyway, she was supposed to be moving to a house she bought up north, Warrington way (where they started their affair, I think, maybe it was Milton Keynes, whatever, Barry denies it anyhow), and he has told me that she isn’t moving now and has taken the house off the market, so, they are definitely going to be a proper family unit, SO WHAT? Her thumb just been pressed on his head even tighter!). I think he should consider speaking to Casey and Mitch about his altered plans—or should I say, Shonah’s non-change in circumstances. I spoke to him for a while, and I was just a little sad, because it just made their situation that little bit more final… and then there were three. He also got a jibe in about Fort George being my ‘base’ now. Yes, that’s right, but thanks Barry, I don’t think I need that spelt out, I’ve managed to work that one out for myself, dear!! Spoke to the kids and told Casey and Mitch I would text them!! Yeah! Maclean, the lovely boy, had put £10 02 credit in my phone, so I texted him to say thanks and how good it was to see him today (and it really was?), then I got a text from Casey saying ‘lv u lds & lds’, so I txtd back saying ‘goodnight lv u + sooo much Mitch 2 xxxxx’. I LV my new phone. By the way, that’s the last time I will put txt messages in the book, cause it will get too tedious otherwise (if it isn’t already—it certainly isn’t a ‘feel good book’, is it?—I don’t know why I said that).

Stephen the nurse was on tonight—actually there are two Stephens; one is really funny, he has the old glaswegian banter, and he is also charming, which helps him to get away with his cheek, and he knows it, but that is just his way, and it was
that
Stephen who came looking for me to try and meet CJ and then tried to tell me that he only would like to have seen him, because he had a few of their hits, but wasn’t a fan (of course not Stephen, that’s why you were gutted when you didn’t get to meet him and ran from another ward to get to mine??). Then, there’s the other Stephen whose really really tall and has a good sense of humour, but more ‘dry’, and he is very ‘bohemian’, and talks about wanting to leave to go to Australia and surf on Bondi Beach, all the time! I love it! The contrast is great and the two of them are so funny, they cheer up the whole ward.

Anyway, I forgot to mention that on the wound (the lovely pressure sore), I have on my bottom, I now have attached to me, all the time, a contraption they call a ‘vac’, and it’s pretty much self-explanatory; it works like a vacuum, that sucks out all the ‘exudate’ (dead skin—the stuff they ‘scooped out’, in Derriford), and it works from a battery that gets charged when necessary, and it is attached to the dressed wound under the bandages. Oh well, just something else for me to have to get used to because, apparantly I have to keep this on my person 24-7. It’s about the size of an slightly larger A4 book, so it is a realistic enough size to be able to be worn like a handbag, but it tends to become heavier the longer you have it on because of the battery… trouble is, as I said before it has to be worn 24-7! OK, . . . I got a bit distracted there, but, Stephen had to change my dressing because, without realising it, the tube from the vac had slipped out of the bandages, so the wound was a bit ‘sluffy’ (gungy, congealed reddish), yuk! There are so many people that have looked at the wound now, and commented on, (without meaning to cause any upset to me because they actually forget I’m listening sometimes) how bad the wound looks, and some nurses have even said that they haven’t seen a pressure sore as nasty before. So, all in all, I think my wound must be a lot, lot worse than I thought at first. Stephen was also going about the bruises that I still have on my ribs. He was telling me that bones don’t bruise, it’s just the flesh that does, and it’s that, that has to heal. Yeah, ok, whatever you say, but I didn’t think bones bruised anyway! All I know is they are ***ing sore! (I have always wanted to ***ing do that)!

I don’t believe it, I have to write this in before I go MAAAAD. Dr Didn’t, came round and confirmed that I was to put ‘any thoughts of being in a wheelchair for Christmas, right out of my head, and that there would be no way that the wound would even be ‘nearly’ healed by then’ . . . in fact, they are not sure, at this stage, at all, how long it would be!! That bugger is so matter-of-fact; Jesus, does he know I call him Dr Didn’t and he’s trying to get his own back. He is so mean… this is my friggin life he’s talking about, and someone with a bloody paralysis, not someone in with a broken sodden leg!! I am getting fed up, and this book is becoming boring, and it’s a reflection on the way I feel at the moment. Downbeat and becoming very pessimistic about everything, and losing the will to live… in fact, I think they should put me on ‘suicide watch’! It’s f r u s t r a t i n g!!

Ok, it’s the morning and I’m awake, so I never attempted suicide after all. The vac that I’m carrying around feels a bit like wearing a permanent heavy bum bag. Wonder if it’s sucking good today!?

The social worker, Joan that works in the hospital helps with all sorts of things like claims, dss, form filling-in, etc, and at the moment she is helping me find somewhere that is suitable to live when I eventually get out of this hell hole. We have been looking at the Fort George area, because I had put that down as my first area of choice. She had said that there is a humungeous amount of ‘red tape’ to get through, with the administrative side and having to rely on other people, but she would definitely get the ball rolling. I get the distinct impression that it will be a very slow ball. I’m not even sure if it’s right going to the Fort. Oh, I don’t know?

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