One Split Second (3 page)

One of the nice foreign chinese male nurses just came in to do my bp etc, still too low 55\100 or thereabouts—whatever that means? Orders—drink plenty (the waters disgusting, the foods disgusting, the whole bloody caboodle at the moment is disgusting)! I thought writing things down would make it easier for me to release anxiety or something like that, but now I’m not so sure… signing off for mo, very disgruntled, at a very low ebb, and full of the joys of spring (roll, that is, that’s been chewed up spat out and in the bin, yuk!), nite nite, remember my kids (they keep me going), and mum… love em…

Saturday 27th September
(32 days)
 

My God, I’m counting the days now—don’t really want to diarise like this but I will write how and whatever shape or form it takes, and if the writing helps me make any sense of whatever is happening to me, then I’m gonna write till the cows come home, well shaggy highland cows… they’re a nice image! So, after my shitty ‘goodnight’ and the non-conversation with Barry, I did manage to fall asleep. I do fight the sleep, but not because I am enjoying being awake—sounds crazy, but so that I will sleep longer and have a shorter day, drr!!! Rude awakening at 6 anyway, I suppose I don’t mind that much because if it means the meds are started correctly at the beginning of the day, that’s how it will remain till the end—huh—who am I kidding!! Anyway, no change today—sleeping pills seem to be working or I am just exhausted. Chest still really hard and painful and uncomfortable, as if someone has put an old fashioned girdle on me and is pulling the laces as tight as they can, and my back and shoulders, downwards, feel like I’m lying on really bad sunburn; no matter how much I try to explain to people they just don’t seem to appear to have any concept of what I am going through (not that I would want this for anyone). What I would do to be able to just get out of bed, shower, have an argument, I mean a really good ‘sawdust of the floor’, ‘gloves off’ argument), mmh, Actually, I do argue… with the friggin TELLY, because I hate Robert Kilroy-bloody-Silk, and I DO argue with him—but it’s not the same! oh, help, I want to be normal and I hate normal, normally!!

Slept for a bit, things seem to be going on in the ward today but it is calmer. I don’t feel so irritable, even though that caffeta thing had a problem and the bed was wet, something to do with a dual carriageway, at least that’s how I said I would remember it and now I can’t—all I know something was wet and believe me it was urine, I don’t think I will ever get used to the smell of urine on me, I smell old, or like a men’s toilet!! Plenty perfume and body sprays needed and air freshener for when the nappy needs changed as well!!

I get no visitors at the moment, but it’s weird, because, sometimes when I hear people coming towards my door I really hope that they are not coming to see me. Don’t get me wrong, I love visitors, and once visitors are here I really enjoy it, and especially, now, that I feel no need for my mask, in fact it’s quite liberating and refreshing actually.

I don’t know what made me think of it, but I will not let Angela forget that she let me down by not getting me a new mobile phone, and I think it’s because they think I will use it in the hospital—so, WHAT, do they think the hospital is gonna do? . . . give me my marching orders and discharge me for using my phone?—I should be so bloody lucky! ActuaIly, I
would
use it in the hospital, so I suppose they are right? ha ha.

Well I think I dropped into my `Ronnie Corbett syndrome` hereinafter referred to as my ‘‘rcs’. To enlighten people, he used to do his own little sketch in a comedy show called The Two Ronnies, where he sat in a large comfy swivel chair and when he told a story he would always drift into another story to explain a part of something that related to the first part of the story and it became a story within a story, because whilst explaining about the first thing he started to explain about he would find something else within that explanation that needed explaining because it related to that particular part as well, understand? keep up—well, thats me and thats my ‘rcs’!

So, eventually got hold of hospital phone as well, sticking to my guns there—first thing in the morning, tea-time at night—well,
my
agreement anyway. Barry phoned and I got an apology, of sorts, but as usual I’m tired, tetchy, frustrated, worried and the mere mention of my family, like this morning, he exaggerates all the prejudices he has against them ‘tenfold’, however I did say
never
to talk about my family the way he had done the day before because it upsets me. He was very dismissive and went on to say that he thought Glasgow would be a good option, but I just know that he still has his reservations about my family and them taking over my life… (like he used to—many moons ago now). I explained that long term rehab in Stanmore would mean a reliable source of communication personally and it would have to be him and the kids. For God’s sake, I haven’t kept in touch with any of his family for years and not at all since Nanny Lou (Barry’s mams) funeral. I don’t even keep in touch with Toni, my best friend in Berrytown and her hubby, Steve, who I was pals with as well. Even the people down here in England are not real friends, and I’m afraid to say I don’t even want to be around ‘clean junkies’—I have seen and witnessed a hell of a lot, more than I could have ever imagined and have always kept my mouth shut to everything!! It really is ‘dog eat dog’ out there! Definitely time to move on… . on to a new chapter!!! That may sound repetitive and ‘I’ve heard all that before’ malarchy, but my whole way of life now has to change. Alcohol is off limits, and I can’t promise it won’t ever be back on again, but definitely is not any more, at least at this stage. Something tells me my whole life is in the lap of the Gods and let’s hope they are gonna be on my side for once, even I know a few members of the family were saying that I was ‘lucky’ and must have used up all my ‘nine lives’ by now and that God must have ‘some great plan for me’!! They had a laugh about it and didn’t realise at the time that I heard them, so lets hope they are still saying I’m lucky` when they see the hell that I am no doubt about to go through, because up until now my stretch has been nothing but everybodies worst nightmare!!

Spoke to my lovely Casey and we talked about everything and anything, I love her and Mitch so much and oh, also my conversation with Barry finished ok (happy days!) and we agreed that any other options with regards the rehabs would be further looked into and I did what I think he wanted me to do, which was, to reassure him that it was
his
help, support and encouragement that I relied on the most! Bloody men, why do they have to feel needed and then moan when we do ask for their help and make jibes about ‘female weaklings’ and suchlike, actually, problem is though, I do need him, bless! Casey phoned back about 3 and was again on the phone for ages, Barry was obviously out. Casey really wants me to go to Glasgow cause she thinks it’s for the best and she wants to go to Uni there. She is growing up so rapidly. She really has to be careful, she is soo pretty, but also so naive—I try to talk to her, so I hope that helps and I subtly tell Barry to watch for ‘girlie’ things but under no circumstances go through things in her room, especially looking for diaries, ciggies, and top drawers… that will push her away more, and she told me that. Spoke for ages and then had to say ‘bye’ cause the nurse was coming round to ‘clean me’, I hate the ‘nappy change’ thing, it’s so demeaning, but, I shut my eyes and pretend it’s not me and just think of Casey and our phone call and pretend In my head we are still talking, I love my Casey, so I’m filling my head with Casey images.

Oh God, apparently huge bed sore on buttox—never had one of them before, lets hope they get rid of that soon and it’s not spreading, don’t want one on my face! Oh no, it needs the infected insides ‘scooped out’ of it, luvvrrllyy! Craig, one of the really nice male nurse, is the one I have to thank for that very graphic description—entirely based on a ‘need-to-know’ basis. Head Nurse/client confidentially policy to be used, so how come 3 other people that shouldn’t have known were there when he told me, people I don’t want knowing yucky things like that bout me and my broken-up bod, hmm? I’m gonna get him back whenever I get on to my ‘mean wheelie machine’, in other words ‘wheelchair’. Feeling very very sore today and it gets worse when I think about it as well…

Its 6.30 Saturday night, just been brought in a lovely salad. Did speak to the nutritionist yesterday and don’t know whether it’s my taste buds or wot but I can’t face hot food or the smell of anything! yuk! Gotta have a break but before I go, just to let you know, spoke to mum today when I managed to commandeer the phone and she sounds great and was absolutely delighted to hear from me. We were on the phone for ages and I told her that I was going to try for Glasgow hospital and she thinks that would be ideal. Good eh, one happy mother… why should I feel so bad if I do get to Glasgow cause kids are happy, well Casey is, so have to speak to Mitch and I’m sure he will be ok, as long as his ole mums happy then, it’s only Barry who doesn’t seem keen—God sake, he’s got Shonah and new babe, she isn’t even moving north now to her new house, so what a waste of bloody money she spent trying to secure that property. I will stop there now, for some reason I can feel myself getting wound up about it! signing off for mo… before I go, forgot to mention mum sent me a card and I got it today, really funny because she made out it was from the dog (a beautiful golden retriever), and it looked just like Corrie—she even wrote ‘woof woof’—great sense of humour my mum, rock on… luv `er xxxx

Well well, this afternoon came and went—got hold of the phone, managed to get hold of Angela because someone phoned wanting info about me, and said she was a ‘physiotherapist’, and a friend of my sister—(which one I have no idea), anyway, Craig, the nurse, refused to give out any info when she called (whoever, she, is) she didn’t even ask to speak to me! Flippin cheek, bet it was Lochys wife, Dane (who is one, apparently), so why be so mysterious?! Angela hadn’t spoken to her. Feeling really really sore as always, corset (that’s what I meant before when I talked about the tight pain), is being pulled so tight today I think I’m a size 6 by now, and sunburn is really really bad, but I’m tired as well; apart from that ok.

I have only just started writing again—I fell asleep, and I dont mind that, cause I don’t feel the pain when I’m sleeping, but the nightmares can be horrid; I wish the brain would realise that no signals can get through to the spine cause it’s damaged. I keep dozing on and off and it’s really funny having like ‘reality’ dreams—I swear I am even living, doing the actions like talking, making and drinking cups of tea, fixing my clock, trying to dance, getting out of bed normally, even thinking about sex (don’t show this to mum)—it’s weird—I don’t jolt back when I’ve woken up upset—it is almost as if my mind is reminding me what I used to be able to do? It’s good sometimes, but disturbing at times as well! Actually, I must read this back because it is really weird trying to write and spell correctly since always texting cause everything is abbreviated, believe me it’s hard, dangerous for our kids though; I’m gonna test Casey’s spelling when I see her and find out if she
can
spell and do her English… . propar, like! no wot a meen? he he! One grade she will definately need for Uni! I was sounding a bit defeatest before, but oh no, I will remain strong… . Maybe that’s why my body clock is saying eat more and sleep more. Rather lazy day actually—my mood swings, well not mood swings really, but my determination and ‘doing as I’m told’ nature has been very much put to the test, cause I don’t do ‘being told to behave and not to do something’ very well, but, I have to put my ‘obstinate’ nature to one side for the mo. I am stronger now and have to accept my weak moments, without getting upset. I don’t know that the last part made a whole lot of sense? . . . . my friggin pen is running out, and I need to get one that works… . that’s taken 3 bloody pens for me and the staff to find, before I got one to work and that has really wound me up!!!! and now I’ve lost my train of thought… .

One of the chinese nurses, Revel (or summit like that—all the foreign names beat the hell out of me), has just asked if I want my tea cut, but I am doing all these things by myself now and it is bloody hard work but if I let Revel do it, I am not going to get anywhere. Who would have thought it, just trying to cut a tomato, pizza, potato (really hard), cucumber etc, could be sooo hard but I managed and I do it out of sheer ‘bloodymindedness’ (great word, eh)? My God, I am nearly dozing off again. maybe my body is repairing itself by telling me to ‘shut up, shut down’, relax and rest? No calls tonight—I was going to ask for the phone out of habit, but have decided I had spoken to all my
loved
ones, that I could and that was exhausting enough, by God! seeing docs and specialist tomorrow and will definitely ask about op and transfer. Will also speak to Barry a.m. tomorrow (christ, what a way to start the day, but needs must, I suppose).

I’m just lying here watching ‘Bodica’; I’m sure its suppopsed to be ‘Bodicea’, but anyway, she’s one tough cookie and reminds me of how I want to be—ruthless but fair. These sodden scumbag turks have still got to be careful because one way or another I will get them stopped! sorry, but I have my reasons and it ain’t because I’m racist, well I don’t think so, well maybe just turks. anyway, Marion from the CIF and CID is here with some blokes that want another flippin interview (how many more—and how did they find me here anyway?), but anything I can do to stop the turks sounds good to me; when I think of it, I don’t know why I did but I was right to involve the illegal immigrants dept so that means that they can work together with Marion at the police stations or wherever (I will explain all this again, but not now). The bloody pens are running out—the staff are bugging me too. I am right up for an argument so they better not give me any shit… my mood has got really bad, most likely at the mere thought of ‘the incident’; which is something that I will talk about one day, even if it stops ‘it’ happening to one person! Anyway stopping for a while…