One Split Second (24 page)
Authors: Gillian Crook
My ribs are really hurting tonight and so are my elbows! That’s from the prone trolley when I’m pulling myself up and putting pressure on my rib cage and ‘scuffy’ elbows! Do you know, tonight I am just thinking, about what happened with Barry today, and it has really given me an ‘incentive’ to get healthy and in shape. I think it’s because the ‘drive’ to get out of here sooner, now has an air of urgency about it. Also, the words, ‘divorce’ and ‘difficult and messy’ spring to mind… wonder why? I must ask him? Why am I questioning any of this? Oh God, I can’t think about this anymore, and anyhow, Barry would have said something. I was going to watch a film and all I’ve done is write. Never mind… I enjoy my writing so much. Nite nite my poor, confused darling Casey and my blissfully unaware Mitch, to all this ‘upset’ . . . love them so much xxxxand (and a prayer in there for Brian, Shonah and Jamie—I sorry if I said anything that sounded too harsh) xxx
3 whole months since the accident… and look how far I’ve come… left Plymund, been in a helicopter, broken back—sorted, but a bloody great pressure sore in it’s place—broken ribs, fingers (l.h.), jaw, stitches to head, squashed diaphram (where I have been told I won’t be able to cough and sneeze properly again), and punctured lung all the mend, detoxed from morphine, suffered a couple of UTIs (Urinary Tract Infections), that’s where I got an infection in my urine!, been told I’m ‘completely’ paralysed, have started my ‘rehab’, and feel like a fully fledged member of the (SPC) Spinal Unit Club… or should it be (Such Unfortune Cripples)? mmh? and have an affiliation with ‘everyone’ here who is learing how to cope and live with limbs that no longer work. If only people, eg. my family, knew the relentless hard work and acceptance it takes to go through the transition from being able to walk, to having to live in a wheelchair, they would never believe it. I’m sure they seem to think that… oops! you have the accident… ambulance to the hospital… confirmation of spinal injury… boo hoo! cry and feel sorry for yourself for a bit, and then… . do a few exercises and… HEY PRESTO! get yourself out of bed and JUMP, landing with a massive THUMP! 4 stone heavier ONTO A WHEELCHAIR! home to adapted house… . and they all WHINGED happily ever after!!
I really hope the witch doc, comes up with something that is strong enough to stop me being in so much pain. I would never have thought that I could ever be in so much discomfort, and have to ‘carry on regardless’, but there is hope for stronger meds. They gave me some extra diazapam yesterday, and said later on they would give me some more until Thursday when I would be prescribed something suitable to use on a regular basis. Apparently, diazapam, if used too frequently can become addictive, so ‘no thanks’!
One of the nurses, Brigitte, today asked me if I would ever use straighteners again, and I said ‘yes’, and the next thing, she is handing me a pair of ‘Nicky Clarke’ ones. She told me that her daughter ‘tossed them aside’ because they weren’t good enough (ungrateful little madam!) So, I wasn’t sure at first, cause as far as I know, they aren’t that cheap, but said ‘yes, thank you’. I was actually really pleased and she knew that. I will get someone to get her a little pressie. It restores my faith in the human race, when people go out of their way to help like that. Actually, most of the nurses and staff in the unit are really nice, and very helpful. They have obviously seen so many patients go through the doors here that they get used to it; I think it’s their positive attitude that helps me and it makes me feel ‘safe and secure’ that they know what they are doing and what they are dealing with. They do have to put up with a lot of different patients with differing types of injuries and personalities. After all, everyone has a different ‘coping mechanism’, and not only have I, as an individual, had to cope with my injury, I have also had to cope with having ‘no alcohol’ (I would have drunk myself to death by now), and not ‘smoking’, I never smoked a lot before, maybe 10 a day, but I can’t get one at the moment, and thank God I’m not ‘craving’, either the alcohol or cigarettes.
I managed to get to see Mr Templar today, he is such a nice man, and when he says he is going to do something, he DOES! I knew he would be busy yesterday, first day back from holiday, and all that, but he didn’t forget me… so today when he was taking the bandages off to dress my pressure sore, I was asking about it and what it was, because to be honest, I hadn’t ever really asked anyone properly (I didn’t want to know!). Anyway, he was telling me(and if I have got this right, he meant)—that a ‘pressure sore’ is the result of lying in one position too long, the skin underneath the pressure area starts to breakdown and then a red spot or patch appears on the surface, indicating there could be something wrong. He compared it to a volcano and molten rock that eventually erupts!! So, he gave me a mirror to have a look. OH MY GOD, it was the most disgusting thing I have ever seen. It was like 3 horrible ‘huge, rotten plum tomatos`, much larger than I thought it would be. Now I can understand why they need the vac to suck up all the dead skin. I can’t believe that just because Derry didn’t turn me sufficiently, I have ended up with this huge ‘leper-like’ wound, (imagine rotting flesh and dead skin), on my bottom. I can’t believe it’s ANYWHERE on my body. He even asked my permission to have my wound photographed, to include in one of their student university manuals.
THEN, he announced the words I have been wanting to hear for weeks. OPERATION, GLASTRONIMUS MAXIMUS (ok, not exactlty, but, ‘operation’ would have done me), this entails an operations whereby the good flesh is pulled over the wound (like a face-lift), after having the ‘exudate’ (dead sluffy skin) sucked out, and he then closes the wound by stitching the skin!! Phew!
He is going to perform the operation tomorrow, so I won’t now be able to eat or drink after 10 o’clock tonight. He normally would have given me two days notice, but ran out of time!! (at least he’s honest). Oh, YES, that is good news, I think. I’m so excited about getting this done, but, I really can’t believe that Derry didn’t turn me sufficiently, AND now it makes sense about what I heard in Derry. when the surgeons were talking about Glasgow. They were saying that Glasgow would have the right to refuse to take me if the wound got any bigger… mmh? Interesting?! And, now, even though it hurts like hell and I get woken up at all hours, I can understand why the staff religiously have to get make sure that I get turned every 4 hours, as per Mr Templars’ instructions. Comprende? (I hope I that made sense?). My brain’s sore!!
So, Rhona, who is on her placement in the gym now, has taken over from Roddy, and he has moved to another dept. That’s a shame I liked Roddy. Saying that, Rhona is really nice too… WHATEVER!. When we went through to the gym, I showed her what weight I had reached and she was impressed. Then John (the Hunter), came over and asked Rhona if she would help him pull over a piece of equipment. It looked interesting. He then explained it was a ‘TILT’ trolley. They tilted it around until it was level with my bed and then by using a sliding sheet transferred me onto it. They strapped me securely to it and then slowly started to tilt it vertically. My God, it was the first time I was in a ‘standing up’ position since my accident. Yee haa, I loved it, this was exciting, I almost felt normally for a while—I was eye-to-eye to John and Rhona. John explained that I might get dizzy, and to let them know if I did, BUT, I didn’t get dizzy at all; maybe just dizzy from the whole wonderful experience of being vertical. I was only allowed to stay up for 5 minutes, but I didn’t care… it was 5 exciting minutes. Who would have believed 3 month previous, I would have been getting excited about being ‘upright’, crazy eh! They were both really pleased with my reaction to the trolley and said that next time they would let me stay up for longer. Yes! I can’t wait. I’m gonna ask if I can be put onto the trolley when I know mum is next visiting. I could have eye-to-eye contact with mum… that would be so amazing, and mum would be delighted and probably even ‘cry’ (which she doesn’t do very often). Being on the tilt trolley really made me even more determined to prove the docs wrong about my ‘complete’ injury? Again, who knows! Yippee! Rhona also mentioned, that John may even consider trying me on something called the ‘big foot casks’! Well, so far it had been a good day… bring it on!
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!
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!!
