A DEATH TO DIE FOR

by Geoffrey Wilding

There was silence at the end of the phone and then tearful joy followed by shouts off phone as she called to Jim and told him the news, she said that this was the best news ever and that she wished that she was with me now so that she could just hold me in her arms.

  She said be blowed with waiting for hospital visiting times and that she would to get some going home clothes together, jump in the car and come and get me straight away.

  The phone went dead and I imagined her quickly gathering things together while trying to ring people at the same time to let them know the news.

  Helen’s calls must have been getting through because every so often my phone would ping! and a text offering congratulations would appear on the screen and then the phone buzzed, it was Andy ringing to hear the news for himself .

  I knew that it would take at least a couple of hours for Helen to travel the distance from home and so eager to be ready I started to pack away my toiletries and pulled all of the clothes out of the bedside locker so that I could fold them ready to be packed into the holdall that she would bring with her.

  Once done I seated myself in the chair to wait, however some of the shine started to come off as this now gave me time to ponder about what would happen going forward, after all I was still paralysed on my left side and I could only just make myself understood when speaking, I would not be able to drive a car myself our use the computer very well and therefore would not be able to work. I hadn’t taken out and critical illness insurance so how would I pay the mortgage.

  The phone went ping! a text had arrived from Helen which said that she and Jim were in the car park now and wouldn’t be long and none of my worries could suppress the joy at seeing them as they came into the ward, by the time they got to the bedside tears streamed down all of our faces.

  They dropped their cargo of my coat and the holdall and I lifted my right arm to hold Helen, she put both her arms around me and squeezed so hard that the cannula on the inside of my left arm dug in with a sharp pain that made me flinch, she quickly let go and then put her arm under mine and we held each other tightly and at the same time Jim reached his arms over Helen’s shoulders so that he could also join in the clinch.

  We slowly untied the knot of our embrace, Helen said that she could not believe that I was actually going to be walking out of the hospital with her which had been her prayer for the past four weeks.

  She opened the holdall and started to lay out the clothes she had brought for me to wear home which consisted of a thick green woollen cable stitch jumper and a pair of green corduroy trousers, I said that wearing socks and shoes again would be a novelty.

  Jim had carried in my heavy tweed coat, a brimmed hat along with a scarf and gloves.

  A senior nurse came to the bed and said how pleased she had been to hear the news and that she would try to move things along as quickly as possible but my discharge had caught them all by surprise and that the relevant documents had not been prepared or signed.

  She also went on to say that before I could go home I would have to see the dietician for supplies of NG food and that a prescription would need to be signed off by a doctor so that I could take home with me supplies of the drugs I had been using in the hospital.

  This put a bit of a dampener on the proceedings so Helen asked her how long it would all take, the nurse said that she couldn’t put a time on it as everyone would be about the hospital doing their normal work but she assured us that it would get her best attention.

  Thinking that we would soon be on our way I asked Helen to help me get dressed so that we should not be delayed any longer than was necessary.

  Once dressed and tired from the effort of doing so I sat in the chair to wait, Jim sat on the far side of the bed somewhat disappointed to find that there was no credit left on the TV card and Helen perched on the bed close to me and told me about all the things she planned to do over Christmas now that I would be at home.

  As we sat there talking our happiness would sometimes spontaneously bubble over.

  We didn’t have to wait too long before the younger of the dieticians I had seen previously came along carrying a cardboard box which she placed on the bed, she asked how had I been getting on with my swallowing, I told her that I had managed the weetabix also a cup of tea and a small part of the chicken dinner yesterday but in the excitement of today I had not tried anything else.

  She said that I must continue to practice swallowing when I got home at which Helen said she would make sure I did and that she would puree the food to make it easier for me to swallow.

  The dietician then produced a pump from the box and went through the operating procedure and said that we should use some coat hangers on the back of a chair at home to hold the bags upright.

  Next she reached into the box and pulled out some sachets of the drink thickening granules, I pulled a face and she laughed and dropped them straight back in the box.

  We thanked her for all that she had done, she smiled warmly and left.

  Helen said that because she had left home so quickly that she had not had a drink since breakfast and was very thirsty so she and Jim went off in search for a drinks machine while I stayed by the bed in case anyone came.

  I still had the cannula in my arm so when the nurse next passed by I asked her if it could be removed, she returned with a kidney dish and carefully took out the cannula, bathed the area and then put a plaster to cover the hole.

  When they returned Helen and Jim brought an ice lolly with them from the machine I had found on Monday, I was feeling quite warm sat there in my demob clothes so the coolness of the ice was very welcome.

  The afternoon dragged on interminably but eventually the senior nurse arrived with the discharge papers which had to be signed, that done she said that the only outstanding item was the prescription and she would see what had happened to it.

  Helen and Jim had got to the hospital at about 1.30pm and it was now nearly 6.00pm when the senior nurse finally came to us with a carrier bag full of boxes of medication, she said that there was enough there to last until well after New Year and that I should make an appointment with my GP as soon as possible so that I could be reinstated onto my blood pressure medication.

  I asked the nurse what should I do if I had difficulty swallowing the tablets and was told to grind them up, add some water like they did during the drugs trolley round and drink them even if I needed to use the thickening granules to be able to swallow the liquid, she removed and replaced an envelope into the bag explaining that I should give the letter to my GP as it detailed what my condition was and what medication I had been taking.

  Before donning my hat and coat I said to the senior nurse I wondered whether she would mind performing one last service for me and I held out my wrist with the collection of coloured bands, she smiled and said she could understand my reluctance to wear them home. She took a pair of scissors out of her apron pocket and cut through all four in one go.

  A porter turned up with a wheelchair and now fully clothed including my hat and scarf I sat in the chair while he pushed me towards the main entrance of the hospital, I had the cardboard box on my lap containing the NG pump and several bags of food plus the carrier bag full of tablets while Helen walked alongside holding my hand and Jim followed on behind carrying the holdall.

  The porter stopped short of causing the automatic doors to open and having disembarked from the wheelchair I stood there still holding hands with Helen and looked at the outside world through the glass frontage of the brightly lit entrance with the box at my feet and trepidation in my heart.

  Jim picked up the cardboard box, I pulled the scarf up over my nose and Helen grabbed the holdall, we moved forward together and the large doors opened with a hiss, we then stepped out into the cold winter air and headed in the direction of where the car was parked.

  We had to cross an as yet unfinished part of the car park and the gravel crunched under our feet, I looked up at the light polluted night sky over this Birmingham suburb where a few s
tars still managed to shine through, I locked my gaze onto the brightest one and made a silent wish for continued good luck as I took these first few steps of what I hoped would be many into ‘my life after death’.

  NOT THE END

  Epilogue

  Photograph that Andy took just before Kate left for New Zealand and as we are today

  This book is a series of facts linked together in such a way as to assist the reader to make sense of them, everything you have read is true however due to the fact that we are now eight years on from the actual events the time line may be slightly askew which is not surprising as no-one was keeping an actual diary of events at the time.

  Many people visited me while I was in both the Hereford and Birmingham hospitals however in writing this book I had to be careful not to present visiting times as a list of names and therefore I have tended to concentrate on the main characters, for this reason I apologise to anyone who feels that they have been overlooked, I can assure you that your visit was greatly appreciated at the time and has not been forgotten.

  I still live in Herefordshire with the lovely Helen who has now retired.

  Kate and Gary still live in New Zealand with Ruby and Ivy and three years ago they presented us with a grandson called Harvey.

  After his ‘A’ levels Jim went for a six week holiday to New Zealand to pick grapes and liked it so much that he stayed.

  Alex and Ian have recently moved from Shropshire to live in Herefordshire.

  Albert passed away in October 2009.

  I have not sued the NHS for misdiagnosis

  I still drive a Shogun [Sport]

  I would like to thank John Charles for acting as my literary mentor when writers block struck.

  Life goes on.