Abbie's Gift (14 page)

Abbie nodded.

“It’s been a few days since we last spoke, what’s been happening?”

Abbie then realised she hadn’t told Rose about her recent visit to the doctor’s or the panic episodes; she had not mentioned them, but now they were all out there.

“I don’t know where to begin; my head is all over the place.  One minute I think I’m doing all right, and then the next I know I’m not. I don’t want to do anything really, except be alone, and go running. No interest at all in anything else”.

“Are you crying much at all?”

“No, I haven’t been until yesterday”.

“You’re grieving about Peter, and how he died?”

“Yes, all the time, I can’t switch off, and it’s making me want to be isolated, everything else is too much”.

“How’s your sleep?”

“Variable, patchy is the best way to describe it, I’m very tired”

“Are you overdoing it exercise-wise?”

“Don’t think so, I feel it does me good”.

“I’m sure it is but you have to fuel your body too, are you eating well?”

“Small amounts really, but little and often”.

“Ever forget to eat?”

“Sometimes, yes, but really other times I can’t be bothered, no appetite”.

“Any alcohol at all?”

“A little, not a lot though, it goes to my head”.  Surprising herself with the amount of information she was volunteering, Abbie went on:

“I am having dreams though, very vivid ones, it’s difficult to tell dreams from reality.  They’re so real and challenging, and at times they disturb me”.

Rose looked over at Abbie, realising there were things she had no idea about, things just adding to her daughter’s suffering.

“Oh, what sort of dreams, do you nightmares?” continued the doctor.

“Kind of, I’m not really sure. I think that I dream a lot of Peter, being with him, it’s so real, it’s like I’m there.  When I’m in these dreams it’s lovely, but when I’m awake it’s not good, and I can’t think of anything else. Then at other times, I feel that I’m being chased, and I sometimes think I see something but it moves quickly and then it’s gone. It’s disturbing and I can’t quite determine what’s been real anymore or what I’ve imagined”.

“How do you feel now, emotionally - upset?”

“No, just empty again, I only got upset yesterday ‘cause I realised that by being distant I’d upset mum”.

“I understand” replied Dr Back.  “Abbie, I’d like you to fill in this questionnaire for me now and relate it to how you have felt over the past few days; it’s straightforward, just tick or circle your answers, take your time”.

Abbie wondered if these questions were somehow to trick her, catch her out.  She looked down and skimmed through the first few, thinking how similar some of them sounded.

She read:
Have you been feeling: in perfectly good health? Felt run down? Better than usual? Same as usual? Worse than usual? Much worse?

Have you been feeling ill?
  Same choice options, then other questions about sleep, worrying, feeling capable of making decisions and not wanting to live. 

Nothing about out-of-body experiences or hallucinations, Abbie thought to herself, and for that I should be grateful.

Abbie completed the sheet fairly quickly and handed it back to the doctor.

After a few minutes, Dr Black turned to Abbie and her mother.

“This is measure of moods, and an insight into your current level of emotional functioning; the higher the score, the worse someone’s symptoms.

Abbie, your score is higher than I would like, but then again considering everything you’ve been through, it can be expected.  However, I do think that to do the best for yourself while you’re grieving, you need to speak to a professional who can help you to unravel all these thoughts and emotions, and maybe make more sense of them. You know, grief is a natural process, it takes time, but sometimes that process can get a bit stagnant and we need assistance. I’d like to refer you to see a counsellor, and soon, however the problem is the post code lottery”.

“Sorry?” said Abbie, “I don’t understand”

“Don’t worry” replied Dr Black, “it’s the system.  Depending on where you live, that determines the efficiency of the service in the NHS you receive. Here I’m afraid, like many other areas, services for mental and emotional wellbeing fall short of the need; if I refer you today, I reckon that you’d get an assessment in about 6 -8 weeks. If you’re found suitable for treatment and you want it, then you would go on the waiting list, and realistically you could wait 3 months minimum, I’m sorry but that’s the way it is”.

“Oh I see”, said Abbie.

“How about private treatment?” suggested Rose. “If that’s an option, Abbie has a private health scheme from Peter’s employer”.

“Oh yes’ said Dr Black, “then you could be getting support in a short time if that’s what you want. I can’t comment on fees, but if you want a recommendation, I know this chap”, she handed Abbie a business card. “Daniel West, he’s a psychotherapist and a very good one too, give him a call. He also does NHS work as well as some private clients”.

“OK, thanks, I’ll think about it”, said Abbie.

Rose commented rather sharply, “You
have
thought; thinking hasn’t done you too many favours lately now has it? I’ll make sure she contacts him”, Rose finished, turning to Dr. Black.

“OK then, I want to see you again in 14 days Abbie. I don’t want to give you a medication prescription as I don’t think it’s necessary just yet. I’m sure all your symptoms are a direct reaction to everything you’ve been through, so let’s stop it getting any worse shall we?”

After writing on her pad, she handed Abbie a medical certificate:
unfit for work for 2 weeks, acute grief reaction.

“Thank you” said Abbie.

“In the meantime, contact me if you need to; otherwise see you in 14 days. Make an appointment today, it’s easier that way, and call Daniel, he can help you”.

Abbie noticed the clock as she turned to leave; she had been in the surgery 11 minutes in total, four minutes over the national average, she thought.

Outside Rose linked Abbie’s arm as they walked along.  The wind seemed to have turned colder, and their brisk walk home heading into the cold air reddened their cheeks. They didn’t speak much but that felt comfortable for both of them.  

Once home and after making tea, Rose suggested to Abbie that there were things that she needed to do straight away: contact with the school regarding her absence; contact Daniel West for an appointment; and make a decision regarding Peter’s ashes and let his parents know.

Realising resistance was futile, Abbie asked her mother to help, so Rose contacted the school on Abbie’s behalf, as she felt unable to speak to them, leaving a message for the Head teacher saying she was unwell and would off work at least two weeks, the emphasis in her voice on the ‘at least’.

After a few more telephone calls to the health insurer, it was confirmed that Daniel West could provide her with counselling for an initial 6 sessions. Abbie would have to fund the sessions and then reclaim the costs.

Abbie telephoned Daniel’s number; to her horror it was an answerphone. Her mind blank and racing, she left a garbled message about wanting an appointment, and could he please call her back?

Then she waited.

Dealing with the ashes was not going to be easy.  Abbie was very unsure what to do, and the urn still sat untouched on the table where Peter’s father had put it several days before.

She explained to her mum that she had thought of scattering them in the woods, and to her surprise, Rose didn’t seem to be shocked by this, saying she could understand her reasoning, but would his parents be happy with this?

Rose suggested she make the telephone call on Abbie’s behalf, and Abbie was relieved, accepting the offer immediately.

Rose wasted no time and got through straightaway.  After a few minutes’ discussion, Rose replaced the receiver.

“It’s agreed,” said Rose, “They know it’s a nice natural place and somewhere Peter enjoyed going. So, we’re all going together tomorrow morning”.

Abbie looked a bit shocked at the speed of this decision.

“Abbie, you must understand that this really needs to be done”.

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

Later that day after her mum had left, Abbie decided to go running. 

She knew exactly where she had to go, and now wished that she had done it sooner.

After a few minutes running through the town, Abbie crossed the roads to the entrance of the woods and then, for a few minutes, she stood simply looking at the woodland path.

She remembered having been there that day on one of her astral journeys, and what had happened there had changed her life. She wondered if Peter could see her now, and how close these two different dimensions were, yet worlds apart.

Abbie removed her woollen hat from her head and walked on to the path. Once under the trees, she looked up and could see the mighty branches swaying in the wind; most of the leaves were now fallen and they crunched underfoot as she walked.

She looked around her to see if she was all alone. She was, so softly she spoke, “Peter, Peter” but was answered only by the wind.

Abbie decided to run, and continued along the path for several hundred yards through the trees, until the path emerged at the bottom of a grassy hill and wound its way into the distance. She stopped to get her breath and turned around to look back at the woods along the path she’d just run.

This time, Abbie immediately felt an uneasiness come over her, as though she was being watched. She glanced around but there was nothing; all the shrubs and bushes were bare of foliage, hiding nothing.

A cold shiver ran down her spine, and she felt a sense of panic rise within her. She was already breathing hard, but now it was as though her lungs would not let enough air in, and the adrenaline in her system turned her warm flesh cold in an instant.

Abbie needed to be away from this place.  She realised that she had to go back through the woods or else run for miles in a circle, taking the path in the opposite direction.

She began walking, quickly scanning left to right, and then from a jogging pace developed into running, sprinting almost.  This eerie, unsettled sensation seemed to all around her, she couldn’t shake it off; it seemed to hang in the air around her.

She ran faster, picking up speed; she had to get out of there. Once back at the gate where she’d gone in, she stopped and looked behind her, but again apart from the wind rustling through the trees, all was still.

Out of the woods, Abbie’s feelings of unease disappeared, so she decided not to go home but to continue running.  She needed time to think, to get her thoughts together, and running would give her the brain space to do so.

She wanted to understand why that feeling had come upon her so quickly, and in such a way that really scared and alarmed her: was it just because of what that place represented and what had happened their? Or was it something else? Did it relate to the times she thought she’d seen something? It was eerie and unsettling.

Her confusion around Peter persisted as well: was she betraying him and his memory? It felt as if she was turning her back on him, seeing him as a problem rather than a blessing.

She wanted to be with him, but was in many ways fearful of continuing with this, for the sake of her sanity. Yes it had been so real, but in her ‘human life’ it dominated her thoughts; it had ruled out all else and had such a magnetism that she found it impossible to resist. She wanted and
needed
to be with him again. She had to go and talk to him. She had to, she had no other option and, as she realised this, tears began to form in her eyes as she ran along the pavements and through the town.

At the bottom of the hill Abbie stopped for a moment to rest and gain a sense of focus.  She concentrated to try to control on her breathing to a steady and slow rhythm.

Abbie decided to run along the path away from the town, on the flat path that she had run before when she had experienced one of her first out-of-body incidents. The ground was hard, undulating under her feet and as she looked into the distance, she saw there nobody else around; she could be alone and here she did not feel scared in any way.

Abbie stopped to fully appreciate this, a safe outdoor environment. There was no sense of eeriness here, and she felt completely in control.

Abbie set off running along the path and for a moment closed her eyes, willing herself to leave her physical body. She quickened her pace, her legs felt strong and capable, her breathing strong and rhythmic.