A DEATH TO DIE FOR

by Geoffrey Wilding

  The porter duly arrived at the appointed time with a wheelchair, I had hoped that I would get to see Helen before I was wheeled away but it was not to be and so I quickly texted to her that I was on my way to have the scan.

  Another nurse came to the bedside carrying a large hand held contraption and explained that it was a suction device for clearing saliva from my throat and that she would be accompanying me to the radiology department, I said wryly that I wondered how the cleaners would manage without one of their vacuums, she smiled and said that she had wiped the hose and emptied the bag before she brought it.

  We arrived at a room with a small reception area, the porter deposited my notes with the receptionist and then left calling in on his walkie talkie that his task was completed, the nurse said she would wait with me until I was called through for the radioactive injection and then she would see me again in the scanner room.

  My turn came and a lady wheeled me into a small room with an examination couch covered in a length of disposable blue paper sheet and there was an adjacent stainless steel bench with a sliding door cupboard underneath.

  She explained the procedure to me in some detail telling me that once I had been given the injection of the isotope that I would have to lay quietly for about half an hour for it to work it’s way around my body and that while this was happening I might have a feeling of being hot all over but that I should not be concerned as this was a normal reaction of the body.

  She continued that a further reaction would be that my urine would become brilliant yellow and that I would remain radioactive for a period of twenty four hours which meant that I must not come into contact with any pregnant women and that if I was to accidentally lose control of my bodily functions during this period then I must let those who were sent to clean it up know that I was radioactive.

  Apprehension caused by this information made my thoughts scuttle about all over the place, however I seemed to remember that she then left the room and returned a short while later wearing what I can only call a body armour tabard and a box with a radioactive sign on the outside and I’m not sure if she didn’t also have protective goggles on as well.

  She asked me to lay on the couch, which I did, she opened the box and produced a large syringe, I was a little disappointed that it wasn’t humming or glowing.

  After the contents of the syringe had been emptied into me she clipped a yellow band to my wrist which signified that I was radioactive and then said that she would now leave me for a while and as she left the room she dimmed the lights.

  Sure enough as I lay there in the half light heat started flooding into me, it felt like I was laying in a bath of very hot water but was being heated from the inside out.

  I can only imagine that it was akin to the feeling that ladies suffer during menopausal hot flushes.

  The required time past and the hot flush was starting to dissipate, I was taken by wheelchair to the scanner room, the PET scanner was definitely the ‘big boy’ of the scanner family I had come to know and love over the past few weeks.

  The large white doughnut seemed to fill the room and a green glass viewing panel was in the wall opposite the foot of the sliding table, one of the radiographers and the nurse who had accompanied me from the ward now also attired in a protective tabard assisted me to get onto the table.

  My head was held in between two padded blocks and a wedge shaped cushion was placed under my knees, a disembodied voice asked whether I was comfortable because the scan would take some time during which I must keep as still as possible.

  I was told that they were aware of the problem with my throat and that if at any time I required assistance then I should raise my hand to give a signal and the nurse would come and see to me.

  All systems go the scanner was started up, the noise of the machine droned on and on as the table slowly fed me head first into the central hole, it was taking much longer than any of the previous scans I had undergone.

  After some time I could feel saliva building up in my mouth and so as instructed I raised my hand, the nurse carried the suction device to the table, I managed to part turn my head to the left towards her as far as the restriction of the blocks would allow so that the tube could be inserted into my mouth and then once done she bent down to switch the suction on.

  Nothing happened.

  She retried and again the machine failed to start, the disembodied voice enquired if there was a problem, the nurse slightly embarrassed said to me that she would go and have a word with the radiographer.

  As she left the room I started to panic a bit, I could feel the pool of saliva moving towards the back of my mouth and I knew that a coughing fit would ensue.

  The disembodied voice said that the pass was nearly complete and that if possible I should stay as still as I could for a few more minutes, so with little rasping coughs I managed to keep my throat clear until the pass was complete.

  The table returned to the starting position and I felt relieved that it was over because the previous hot flush had now been replaced with a definite chilliness, then as soon as my head cleared the machine I half sat up and just in time the nurse arrived with a spit bowl.

  She said that I should wait where I was until the radiographers gave the all clear.

  Much to my angst rather than say all was complete and I could go, the voice from behind the screen said that while the isotope was still radioactive they wanted to do another pass but that they would give me ten minutes break if I wanted to get up and walk around for a bit, however I was not allowed to go to the toilet.

  The ward nurse called out to the radiographers that her shift was coming to an end and so she would have to leave soon, a voice came back saying that would be fine but would she please make sure to take her useless piece of equipment with her.

  The whole procedure was repeated during which I managed through tilting my head to the left to stop from coughing but it was now getting on towards 6.30pm and I had been away from the ward for nearly four hours.

  Now the scan was completed a porter came and returned me to the ward where I found a handwritten note tucked under the edge of the blanket, from the handwriting I knew at once that it was from Helen and felt completely desolate knowing that I had missed her.

  The note said that she and Jim had come over for three o’clock visiting and had waited until nearly seven but with no information as to when I would get back to the ward and with a two and a half hour drive home they had made the decision to leave the hospital, the note finished by saying she would call when she got home.

  I was upset, not at Helen but just at the hopelessness of the situation, I was cold and needed the loo so I took myself off to the disabled toilet, I’d say the colour was much more of a florescent lime green than yellow.

  I got back to the ward still feeing shivery so I got into bed and waited for the phone call from Helen, I came to with the chap from the next bed gently shaking my shoulder to wake me because my phone was buzzing on the bedside cabinet.

  Helen said that she and Jim were so sorry to have missed seeing me particularly after the news that I had been given yesterday I said that I would tell her all about the scan tomorrow.

  The drugs trolley arrived but before the nurse came close I put my hand up to say stop and pointed at my new yellow bracelet, she said she had not come across one before so I explained about being radioactive and said that she couldn’t come any closer if she was pregnant, she chuckled and with a sigh said a chance would be a fine thing.

  After she had left and before the diazepam kicked in I made my way back to the disabled toilet, I entered the room and closed the door.

  With the light on I studied my surroundings and then lifted the toilet seat, without turning I shuffled backwards a couple of paces towards the door, I reached out behind me and pulled the switch cord to turn off the light, I waited a couple of seconds while my eyes adjusted to the darkness and there was just enough of a glow from under the door to be able to find my way back to the toil
et.

  Whether being this close to death made me revert to having boyhood fantasies or not I don’t know but as well as it being florescent lime green I just had to know if it also glowed in the dark.

  It was a disappointing end to a disappointing day.

  Weekend – Saturday 17th and Sunday 18th December 2005

  This was the last weekend before Christmas and if the diagnosis was correct it could well be my last which was a very sobering thought indeed and I faced the day in a sombre mood.

  I forced myself out of bed to do battle in the washroom because even at this late stage I still had the need for people to remember me well and although I was not expecting lots of people to be visiting I knew that several friends and family would be travelling to Birmingham.

  Andy arrived first as he had come straight to the hospital from his home in Fareham and it was good to have some real time together, the different visiting arrangements at this hospital meant that he was able to stay and talk rather than be the shepherd.

  We chatted about family matters past and future and he was keen to assure me that while he would not interfere in any way he would always support Helen and Jim as best he could.

  Jim couldn’t visit as he was at work and Kate had asked if she could use today to do her Christmas shopping for her return trip to New Zealand so I was pleased when Helen appeared at the end of the ward as I had not seen her since Thursday and I wanted to tell her all about what had happened during the PET scan, I made her smile when I told her about my late night antics in the loo.

  Matt turned up just after lunchtime and spelled out in some detail what had been happening with the business, he said how many of the clients had sent their condolences to me and the family and couldn’t believe how sudden this had happened to a relatively young person. Before he left I wished him luck in the future and thanked him for his pledge to protect Helen from the angst of having to deal with the business after I had gone.

  Around mid afternoon Alan (B) and Pamela came to see me for the first time since I had become ill, they had driven directly up from the south coast, I felt that this was an extremely brave move on his part what with all the memories it would invoke for him having suffered a near death experience himself only a year previously.

  Visiting times at this hospital were very different to that of Hereford and rather than an almost continuous flow of visitors coming to see me from the waiting room two or three times over the course of the day it was much more a case of people arriving and leaving at set times and so there was more time in between to rest which meant that I didn’t get so tired but on the down side there was only one chance to say what you wanted to say and I quite often felt after someone had left that I should have said more.

  Sunday morning brought a new emotional wrench when Andy turned up with Kate, Helen and Jim were also there but had driven over separately.

  Kate with her bags packed in the boot of Andy’s car and ready for the off told me that she had needed to buy extra cases to carry all of the children’s Christmas presents back to New Zealand, I said that would cost her a pretty penny in excess baggage charges.

  Kate said that it would be worth it to see the look on the children’s faces on Christmas morning because a lot of what she had bought was not available in New Zealand.

  Kate then said that although she had lots of photos of us in happier times she would like to have one last one of us together as we were now to show the grandchildren when she got home, she dug around in her handbag for her camera.

  We all put on the best ‘say cheese’ smile we could muster and Andy duly obliged by clicking the button, bearing in mind where we were and the circumstances we were in it turned out not to be a bad photo at all although the NG tube gave things away a bit.

  Andy had said previously that it would make sense for him to go straight home once he had seen Kate off on her flight but he would be back at the hospital again before the end of the week.

  Kate needed to leave around midday to catch her plane so time had to be limited on this final visit together and as it came to the time for her and Andy to leave it was very tearful, she finally picked up her things and took a long slow walk out of the ward dabbing at her eyes while looking over her shoulder, we waved a final goodbye as she disappeared round the corner and I knew that was it, I would never see her again.

  It was all starting to feel very final, so I was really pleased when Alex arrived In the afternoon.

  She and Ian had brought Joyce and Albert with them and as part of the usual conundrum faced by visitors of long term patients to try and find new subjects to talk about, Joyce wondered how I was getting on with the other patients now I was in an open ward.

  I explained that my situation had not proved very conducive to making new acquaintances, in the first instance I had very little voice which made any attempt at conversing quite difficult and once past the courtesy of an exchange of names the next question inevitably enquired as to what ailment had landed you in hospital and I had found that telling people I had a tumour on the brain stem and it was not expected that I would survive to see Christmas tended to be a real conversation killer.

  I had therefore been polite to enquiries but kept my own counsel and had not tried to strike up relationships with the other patients.

  She nodded understanding and the conversation moved on.

  The visiting bell tolled and my little group collected their belongings together, they managed to put on a brave face and said they would try to get back to see me during the week, as always Helen was the last to leave and with so little time to go every parting seemed to get harder than the last.

  Monday – 19th December 2005

  I cannot describe how it felt to wake up this Monday morning after the depressive nature of the weekend, I couldn’t get Bob Geldof’s rasping chorus from ‘I Don’t Like Mondays’ out of my head.

  I couldn’t be bothered to shower and shave and apart from the nurse’s usual obs round there was nothing to do until visiting time so having changed into a ‘T’ shirt and jogging bottoms I decided to take a wander somewhere, anywhere to try and take my mind off of things.

  The only walking or rather shuffling I had done was from the bed to the washroom and back so I felt a bit shaky and progress was slow to start with but as I ventured further I gained more confidence.

  I had not left the confines of the ward since last Tuesday except when the porter had taken me to the radiology department and I was a little unsure of which way to go, so I took a left at the entrance to the ward determined to find out what lay behind the half glazed door at the end of the corridor.

  I found an empty day room complete with armchairs and a telly, curiosity satisfied but little achieved I decided that I would venture further, I turned the way I had come and made my way passed the nurses station and out into the main corridor.

  I made sure that I took a mental note of landmarks along the way in order that I didn’t get lost on the way back and after about twenty minutes or so of wandering I found myself at the edge of the main entrance area, it reminded me a bit of an airport concourse with all its modern lines and the light flooding in from the glass frontage.

  This did nothing to improve my mood for as I stood there taking in all the sights and sounds I realised that flying anywhere was something else that I would never do again so having rested for a bit I turned and started to make my way back to the ward.

  About halfway back along the main corridor I came across an alcove with some seats and vending machines in it and as I felt drained from the effort of the walking I decided to stop for a rest.

  Although I had passed this alcove on the way to the main entrance I had not really noticed what it contained and as I looked about me I saw that one of the vending machines sold ice creams and lollies.

  I reached into my pocket and found a few coins left over from some money that had been left for me to buy newspapers with stories about the oil fire, I had just enough for a three stage multi coloure
d rocket on a stick.

  I stood up and fed the money into the coin slot and pressed the appropriate button and as the lolly clunked into the recess at the bottom I remembered the times when as a child I had waited on a warm afternoon at an ice cream van to pay over a few pence for an Orange Mivvy or a ninety nine with a chocolate flake.

  Strange comfort food I thought as I removed the covering but as I chewed small pieces off of it and carefully swallowed them as I did with the fruit ice Helen had brought in for me it felt good to do something normal again even if was only to eat and ice lolly.

  Not wanting to risk a coughing fit I thought better of walking and eating and so I sat there in the alcove thoroughly enjoying the moment and while there I could watch other patients as they went by and found myself trying to count the number of wrist bands they sported compared to my own collection, I couldn’t believe I was being so competitive.