by Rosie Harris
Mary looked aghast. ‘Hand my keys over to you so that you can go in my house, even though I’m not there?’ she exclaimed in disbelief.
‘I won’t do any damage I assure you,’ Pat smiled.
‘Maybe not, but I don’t know you from Adam,’ Mary told her sharply. ‘No one but me has the keys to my home,’ she declared.
‘I only want to make sure that your chair is the right height for you and that your kitchen is safe for use. You may not be perfectly mobile for weeks, you know.’
‘I don’t need any aids,’ Mary reiterated. ‘Thank you for your concern but I know I can manage. I don’t want any of your packages either.’
Pat snapped shut her notebook. ‘We’re only trying to help you,’ she admonished.
‘I know and it’s very kind of you, but I couldn’t stand someone fussing in my kitchen or interfering with my belongings, thank you very much.’
It was late in the afternoon when Mary had a surprise visitor. For a moment she couldn’t believe her eyes.
‘Bill? Is it really you?’ she exclaimed.
He laughed as he sat down in the chair beside her bed. ‘It is but I’m the one who should be saying that to you. What on earth are you doing here? And, even more important, why didn’t you let me know!’
‘I didn’t want anyone to know, that’s why,’ she retorted. ‘I didn’t want to spoil Christmas for anybody.’
‘Well, you’re not likely to do that now are you? Your Richard and his family are away for the Christmas holiday.’
‘Yes, but have they left yet?’ Mary asked. ‘I’m a bit fuzzy about the dates. I didn’t want Richard to hear it before he left because he would only worry.’
‘Tomorrow is the twenty-third of December. Only two days before Christmas. Richard left three days ago. Do you have an address for him?’
‘I wouldn’t tell you in case you got in touch with him and told him what had happened.’
‘Now, would I do a thing like that?’ Bill chortled. ‘So, you’ll be staying in here for Christmas will you?’ he asked.
‘I certainly hope not. I want to get home as soon as possible.’
‘Will you be able to manage?’ he frowned.
‘Oh don’t you start. The doctor, nurse and some sort of social worker have interrogated me and trying to convince them that I can manage has worn me out. They even wanted me to have a package; some young girl to come in and dress me in the morning and get my breakfast. Ridiculous! I hate people interfering in my affairs as you well know.’
‘I am well aware of that,’ Bill told her. ‘It’s one of the reasons why I have had such a hard time tracking you down. I went to your house several times, asked around and so on but no one knew where you were or when they had last seen you. Then I tried the police and they suggested ringing round the local hospitals. No,’ he sighed, ‘it hasn’t been easy.’
Mary stretched out a hand and caught at his arm.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said contritely. ‘I should have asked them to let you know. I … I wasn’t thinking clearly. I didn’t mean you when I said I wanted no one to know where I was. I was thinking of Richard. I didn’t want to worry him or spoil his holiday.’
He took her hand and squeezed it. ‘I understand,’ he told her and his voice was a mere whisper and there were tears in his eyes as he stared down at her. ‘Well,’ he gathered himself together. ‘Now that I am here what are we going to do? Do you know when they are sending you home?’
‘No but from all the questions they’ve been asking they are anxious to do so as soon as possible. I suppose they need the bed. Lots of silly old dears like me falling all over the place and breaking their bones at this time of the year. There must have been ice on the road and I didn’t see it.’
‘Perhaps I had better ask them so that we can make some plans,’ Bill said.
‘Plans, what do you mean?’ Mary asked sharply.
‘What we are going to do when they send you home of course. You don’t think I’m going to shut my eyes to the pickle you are in do you!’
‘What can you do?’ Mary asked. ‘I’m not having you play nursemaid and I am not coming to stay at your place, so don’t think I am,’ she added forcefully.
‘I haven’t invited you to do so,’ Bill retorted brusquely but the twinkle in his eye took away the harshness of his statement.
Mary lay back against her pillows and sighed deeply. ‘I hate people fussing over me and I hate being dependent on anyone,’ she muttered softly.
‘I know, I know.’ Bill patted her arm. ‘If me telling them that I’ll look after you, means that they let you come home, then will you let me pop in each day to make sure you are all right and do any bits of shopping you need?’
‘I suppose so. If it’s the only way I can get them to agree to my going home, then I have no choice,’ Mary muttered with a wry smile.
‘Well, Christmas is only a few days away so you could ask them to let you stay on here. You’d be warm and well looked after, you know.’
‘No!’ Mary pursed her lips angrily. ‘I want to go home. I’ll manage, don’t worry.’
‘So you want me to go and tell that nurse that if they let you out I’ll be looking after you?’
‘Yes, as long as picking up any shopping I may need is all the looking after you are going to do.’
Bill didn’t answer. He stood up and walked down to where the nurse was sitting in front of a computer entering records. Mary watched as they spent the next five minutes talking about her and her future. She wished she could hear what they were saying but, although they kept looking towards her, they made no attempt to come over and include her in their discussion.
‘They’re going to keep you in for another day because your temperature is still high,’ Bill told her when he came back to her bedside. ‘Then, if they think you are fit enough they will send you home by ambulance. They are going to phone me and tell me what time of day that will be so that I can be at your place when they arrive.’
‘They haven’t said anything about packages have they?’ Mary asked apprehensively.
‘Of course not! You won’t need any carers if I am there to look after you.’ He held a finger to his lips as he spoke, warning Mary not to start making a fuss. ‘I’m off now,’ he told her. ‘Do you want me to take your front door key so that I can make sure the place is warm when you get home?’
‘There’s no need. The storage heaters will see to that. I leave them on all the time in this weather.’
‘Right. Well I’ll get you some bread and some milk. See you tomorrow or whenever they send you home.’
He was gone before she could thank him. She should have let him have her key, she thought guiltily. It made it look as though she didn’t trust him and it meant that he’d have to hang around outside waiting for the ambulance when he could have been indoors in the warm.
THIRTEEN
For the next few hours Mary felt light-hearted. She was going home. She would be in her own surroundings for Christmas Day, and even though Richard and his family were away, it didn’t matter. She would sooner be quiet and on her own in her own home than here; where the comings and goings night and day kept her from sleeping or even thinking, because she couldn’t concentrate.
Now, relieved and content she tried to plan ahead, working out how she was going to manage. A woman coming to her bedside with two crutches disturbed her thoughts.
‘These are for you, Mrs Wilson. I understand you are hoping to go home but, before you can do that, you have to be able to use these,’ she said pushing the crutches towards Mary.
‘Crutches! I’d rather not try them; I’d probably fall over and break my neck, thank you all the same,’ Mary said, shaking her head.
‘You won’t fall over once you’ve mastered how to use them and it’s the only way you will be able to move around, because you mustn’t put any weight on your broken leg for at least three weeks, maybe longer.’
The woman consulted the notes she was holding. �
��I see it’s the left leg,’ she murmured half to herself. ‘Left leg and you now have a steel rod and screw in it.’
‘I’ve got what?’ Mary stared at the woman aghast. She knew her leg hurt and she had wondered why it wasn’t in plaster but a steel rod in it! Whatever was going on?
The woman ignored her question.
‘Come along, put on your dressing gown and I will show you how to use the crutches.’
The next half hour was a form of torture for Mary. She had never used crutches in her life before and she found it so uncomfortable. They seemed to be pushing her armpits up into her shoulder. She wasn’t very heavy so she was surprised at the effort it took to support herself on them. She wondered how big heavy people managed.
At the end of half an hour, she was told that she had done enough for the moment and to rest. The woman said she would be returning again later in the day, however, for a further session. Mary lay back on her bed exhausted. She closed her eyes and wondered if perhaps it would be better if she gave in and stayed at the hospital instead of struggling to get home. She would never be able to move around on those things, she told herself. The pain under her arms for one thing was excruciating.
Leaving her dressing gown on, she pulled up the covers and turned her face into the pillow so that no one could see the tears of frustration sliding down her cheeks. When she finally sat up again, it was because someone was tapping her on the arm and telling her that her meal was ready. They moved the bed table over to her, uncovering a plate of savoury smelling food. Still in a daze she ate it almost automatically, slowly aware that the hot food was making her feel better. Then she saw the crutches propped against the foot of her bed and all her fears came back. This is ridiculous, she told herself, I’ve never given in ever in my life and I’m not going to do so now.
Purposefully, she pushed away the bedside table and put her feet, which were still in her slippers, onto the floor. The searing pain in her left leg as she tried to stand up took her breath away. Shuddering she pulled her foot clear of the ground. She’d have to learn to use those awful crutches or she would be bedbound forever, she told herself.
When the physiotherapist returned for a second session Mary was as cooperative as she could possibly be. By the time the woman left, she was not only balancing on the crutches but managing to take a tentative step or two, only using her right foot and the crutches for leverage and balance. A sense of achievement filled her as the woman congratulated her on what she had managed to achieve.
‘Now have a good night’s sleep, I’ll be back in the morning and then we’ll try a little walk.’
The next morning, Mary not only managed the promised little walk, but also manoeuvred her way up three steps and down again. She felt really proud of herself. There was nothing she couldn’t do if she put her mind to it, she told herself. She rested for half an hour after the physio had left, and then she began slowly to walk up and down the ward.
‘You’ll wear the floor out if you go on like that,’ one of the nurses told her laughingly. ‘We’ll have to send you home if you are that capable.’
‘That’s exactly what I am hoping will happen,’ Mary said smiling back. ‘You’ve all been very kind to me and I am truly grateful, but I’m sure you will agree; there’s nowhere quite like your own home.’
‘Yes, well we’ll have to wait and see what the doctor says,’ the nurse countered. ‘Now pop back on your bed and rest like a good girl,’ she told her.
Mary nodded and gritted her teeth. Why oh why did they have to be so condescending. ‘Like a good girl’ indeed, who the hell did the nurse think she was talking to? She may be old enough to be her mother, or perhaps even her grandmother, but there was no need for the nurse to speak to her as if she was out of her mind or a young child, Mary thought resentfully.
So Mary propped the crutches against a chair and awkwardly clambered back onto the bed, well aware that the nurse was watching her every movement. She lay back against the pillows and closed her eyes, so that the nurse wouldn’t see the tears of frustration that came welling up into them. The doctor looked at her with raised eyebrows when, later that day, she asked him if she could go home.
‘Is there someone there to look after you?’ he questioned.
‘Not exactly,’ Mary admitted after a slight hesitation. ‘Not living there that is, but I have a very good friend who will come in each day and do my shopping and things like that.’
The doctor bit down on his lower lip and looked questioningly at the Sister who was accompanying him on his round. ‘Has the patient’s house been checked and has a package been put in place for this lady?’
The Sister shook her head.
‘Why not?’
‘Mrs Wilson wasn’t prepared to hand over her keys so we couldn’t carry out an inspection, and,’ her mouth tightened perceptibly, ‘she says she doesn’t want a package; she doesn’t like strangers in her home.’
‘Hmm!’ the doctor tightened his lips, whether in disapproval or to stop himself laughing Mary wasn’t too sure, but from the twinkle in his brown eyes as they met hers she suspected it was the latter.
‘So you are very independent are you, Mrs Wilson?’ he said at last.
‘I try to be,’ Mary told him spiritedly.
‘You really think you can manage?’
‘Yes, I do,’ Mary said quietly
‘Very well, we’ll let you go home tomorrow, providing we are confident you can manage. One more night in hospital and then it’s up to you to take care of yourself.’
‘We will want to see you back here again for an X-ray and check-up in about six weeks’ time to make sure that your leg has healed and to check that you are walking properly. Until then, use your crutches.’
‘Shouldn’t I be able to walk without them by then?’ Mary questioned.
‘Later you will be able to manage with a stick, but not at the moment. On no account put weight on your damaged leg. Is that quite clear?’
‘Yes, I understand what you are saying,’ Mary said quietly.
‘Good! One other thing,’ he went on, ‘if you have any trouble such as serious discomfort and pain, or another fall, or anything like that, then come back so that we can check you haven’t done any further damage to your leg. Is that understood?’
‘Yes, I understand,’ Mary repeated.
Mary could hardly sleep that night for excitement. Later in the afternoon, she’d had another session of moving around on her crutches under the eagle eye of the physio and she was sure she would be all right, providing she went slowly and was careful. She promised that she wouldn’t attempt going out, not until she felt really confident.
The only thing that worried her, and she was thankful that no one had questioned her too closely, was that her bathroom at home was upstairs and she wasn’t at all sure that she would be able to go up and down stairs on her crutches. There was a toilet downstairs and for the moment she would have to have a wash at the kitchen sink, she resolved. She could have a strip wash there, although it would not be as good as showering or a bath of course. Still, she wouldn’t be able to get into the bath with her leg, not on her own, and she certainly wasn’t going to ask Bill to help her. Anyway, they’d told her not to get her leg wet so she didn’t really need a bathroom, she reminded herself.
She had a single bed that would be easy enough to bring downstairs and, by moving things around in the sitting room, it could be put in there as a temporary measure. Or, if Bill wasn’t able to do that on his own, then she would sleep on the settee. It would only be for a short time, she told herself. Only until Richard came back from his Christmas holiday and could put the bed down in the living room, or she had more confidence about manoeuvring on steps with her crutches and could face going upstairs.
Being at home, in her own surroundings, doing things at her own pace was what she wanted most in the world. She would ask Bill to get her some ready cooked meals from the supermarket so that she could put them in the freezer and then she c
ould heat one up each day. A pint of milk would last her at least two days and a loaf of bread almost a week, she told herself. She’d have porridge for breakfast, it would be a simple enough matter to make that, and she could make a cup of tea or coffee whenever she wanted them.
Yes, she told herself, looking after herself would be simple enough. Then she remembered that she had intended cooking a full Christmas dinner for Bill on Christmas Day. She sighed. That was out of the question but she was sure he would understand. He’d already had three Christmases on his own so another one wouldn’t matter. Next year she’d really go to town and cook him a splendid meal. By then, she would have thrown away the crutches, all her problems would be over and she would be walking normally.
FOURTEEN
Mary was awake and began struggling to get dressed before it was even light the next morning. She had slept very fitfully, drifting in her mind from hospital to home, imagining all the obstacles she was likely to encounter and then trying to solve them. She felt tired but that didn’t matter, she told herself, as soon as she was at home she could have a nap.
She wondered what time the ambulance would be ready to take her. Did they take the people who were being sent home first, or did they have to be slotted in between emergency and routine calls? She didn’t care when she went as long as she did eventually get home.
Bill had said he would be there when the ambulance arrived, so she must make sure that she telephoned him and let him know what time she was leaving the hospital. She mustn’t be impatient nor must she keep asking, she told herself, just let it happened when they were ready. There was some business about being signed out and waiting for the pharmacy to send up the medicines that had been ordered for her to take home. The morning dragged by.
With the help of a nurse, Mary had packed all her belongings, except her coat, into a large hospital bag ready to leave. Every time a nurse came into the ward Mary brightened, thinking she was coming to tell her that they were ready to take her home. It was mid-afternoon before the summons came. She had picked her way through her midday meal, making herself eat it because she wasn’t sure when or where she would get her next meal.