Time to Let Go

by Christoph Fischer

“I am sorry to hear that. How badly affected is she, if I may ask? Can she speak and walk?”

  “Her speech came back almost immediately. Fortunately she never developed real problems with that, which is very lucky because my mother likes to talk a lot. If there is such a thing as divine intervention then the gods had mercy on her and left her the thing most precious to her heart.”

  “I had no idea that it was possible to have a stroke that does not affect your speech,” Hanna said surprised. “Can she walk on her own?”

  “Not yet. But we are working on it,” Karim said. “She gets the best care we can get. She even had the best paramedic,” he said with a wink.

  “Why, did you find her? That must have been awful.”

  “I was on duty and my team was called out for it.”

  “They did not substitute you?” Her heart went out to him for having gone through such an ordeal.

  “I didn’t tell them. It should have been my responsibility to remove myself from the team, but as a health care professional I have learned to detach myself from emotional involvement, and just deal with the situation.”

  “That is a very confident statement.”

  “I guess it is. I am sorry. I think we people from the medical profession can be a little arrogant and overly confident; the infamous God complex. I assure you I only have a mild version of it,” Karim said.

  “I work with pilots. Many of them have a very similar mind set. I became immune to it years ago, or I would have left the job by now,” Hanna said with a dismissive hand gesture. “I must say I would have thought you’d be scared that your emotions might cause you to make a mistake while helping your mother that night.”

  “Not at the time. I did not think twice about it. Helping people and helping them quickly is drilled into us so much, it has become second nature. You must know about that yourself.”

  “Of course,” Hanna said, closing her menu abruptly. “Well, I am ready to order when you are. I’m starving.”

  Karim called the waiter over who took their order and then led them to a more secluded dining area. The lighting was darker and there were separate booths, giving the setting a very intimate feeling.

  “This is very cosy,” Karim observed.

  “Yes, I don’t remember it ever being like this,” Hanna replied. “When I last came here with my family they took us to a larger room with big tables and bright lights. Maybe this section of the restaurant is new.”

  “So, have you ever been in an emergency?” Karim asked.

  “Well…ehm…we hear a lot about the emergencies that have happened to other airlines. I have a lot of second hand information.”

  She took a large sip of her water.

  “Anything you would like to share?” he said playfully.

  She looked at the ceiling searching for a story that had nothing to do with what had happened to her, but it was hard to think of one.

  “A friend of mine evacuated an aircraft in an emergency. Everyone ran to the exit ahead of them. My friend stood alone by her open door at the back of the plane. The people were in such a panic they did not listen to her calling them and preferred sliding down the slide over the wing.”

  “People are just sheep, aren’t they,” he said smiling. “Anything medical?”

  “Ehm…I remember a guy who was on anxiety drugs, pain killers and alcohol. He fell into a prolonged unconsciousness in the middle of the flight and we had to divert the plane to a military base. I was not involved first hand.”

  “But with all of your medical training you must be confident that you would manage an emergency without hiccups,” he said.

  She hesitated for a moment, swallowing down another wave of nauseating guilt.

  “I used to doubt myself more,” she said as forcefully as she could muster, “but the longer I have been flying the more I hear that crew respond remarkably well in emergencies. But enough about work,” she said. “Let’s talk more about your family. You said you are all sharing the burden of looking after your mother?”

  “To start with I would not call it a burden. To me it is a privilege,” he corrected her in a pedantic way.

  “Of course,” Hanna agreed.

  “She raised us all with pure selflessness and motherly devotion. I am glad I can repay her that favour. With my work commitments I could not do it alone. Being medically trained I feel I should have a bigger share in it than I currently do,” he explained.

  “Is she still in her own home?”

  “No, that would be unthinkable. She is a widow. After the stroke she had to move in with my sister and her family,” he said, clearly with a guilty conscience. “My brother is divorced and lives alone in a tiny flat, just like myself.”

  “But you all chip in,” Hanna said.

  “Yes, as much as is possible. How have you organised the care for your mother?”

  “My father is still alive and fit,” Hanna explained. “My parents live together in our old family home.”

  “Is anyone else helping your father?” Karim wondered.

  “I am afraid not really. I have two brothers but they both have commitments already and are total workaholics, following in my father’s footsteps. We all live too far away.”

  “I am certain you do more than you let on,” Karim said. “You see, what I liked about you most when I saw you and your mother was that you had such a caring attitude towards her.”

  “Do you ever get people in an ambulance that don’t care about the patient they are with?”

  “You would be surprised!” he told her. “It is not necessarily that they don’t care but many fear they’d be in the way or are scared of what they might see, so they don’t really get involved.”

  “Not everyone has got that strength within them,” Hanna pointed out. “We are all different.”

  “Well, I was living with my last girlfriend when my mother had the stroke. We had plans to get married. I offered to support her financially if she could help looking after my mother, but she was so horrified by that idea that she moved out and left me before my mother even came out of hospital. She always said she hated her job as secretary and was desperate to give it up to have children, so you can imagine my surprise. All of her friends implied that I was a monster for asking her to give up her career for my family,” Karim said, sounding rather bitter.

  “For many people the thought of becoming dependent on someone is rather frightening. You can’t really judge her for that,” Hanna defended the woman. “The divorce rate in this country is so high, we don’t expect a happily ever after any more. Did you put pressure on her?”

  “She was free to do as she pleased, but she claimed the very discussion was pressure and that it had taken away her trust in me. She did not want to marry someone who had such strange and ancient ideas about family.”

  “We are all weak in our own ways. She was maybe not strong enough to give up her safety net. You can’t blame people for their weaknesses. Besides, would you really be happy with a wife who lives only for you and your family?” Hanna asked provocatively.

  “We were a couple about to be married. My family was her family and vice versa. Giving up a part time job with little meaning is hardly giving up her entire life,” he explained. “I would have done the same for her family if I had been in a mindless job. It has nothing to do with wanting an obedient Persian wife, as one of her friends described the situation.”

  “Ouch!”

  “Exactly, and I am not Persian or Iranian. I am British and I am talking about family values that you might find in the Conservative Party Manifesto or in Christian circles, too. I became a paramedic to do good and to save lives. You of all people must know about this.”

  “Me, why?” Hanna began to look searchingly around for a waiter but there was nobody around.

  “The way you are with your mother. You really care for her.”

  “Oh that, yes, well it is more complicated though. The last couple of days have been a real eye opener for me in that r
egard,” Hanna said, sounding rather subdued. “I realise that up to now I have let my family down. I have done next to nothing to help my father. He is starting to struggle and gets more rigid every day. Not only have I left him in the lurch, I am also beginning to realise that I don’t know how much time my mother has left.”

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself,” Karim consoled her. “You are there for her now and you care.”

  Hanna hid her head in her palms and said nothing.

  “Don’t you start crying on me,” Karim said, playfully disapproving of her. “What is wrong?”

  “I am not crying,” Hanna said as she lifted her head back up and faced him. “Really, I am ok.”

  “You don’t look it. Hanna, I am sure your father appreciates what you do. You have a natural talent with your mother.”

  “I’ve had a lot on my mind lately,” Hanna said. “It is not just about my mother.”

  “You can talk to me,” Karim said. “Trust me, I’m a doctor. Almost.”

  “I hoped I could get away from it all but I guess there is no hiding from it. I don’t want to be dramatic but I could only tell you if you, as a paramedic, were bound by something like a doctor’s oath of patient confidentiality.”

  “I can promise you that I will treat any information you share with me as confidential,” he said very seriously. “Are you ill? Have you had some bad news? You know I can pull some strings if you needed a second opinion, or some special treatment?”

  “I am bound by a non-disclosure document. If I told you and the information got out I would face serious consequences. There is an investigation going on.”

  “A legal matter?” he asked.

  “Yes. Medical and legal. You see, I tried to resuscitate a passenger. She had collapsed in a First Class toilet, but I could not bring her back to life when I found her. All that training was for nothing. She just died, Karim. I might as well not have bothered.”

  “Now, now,” Karim said.

  “The husband kept shouting at me that it was my fault. He is threatening to sue the airline and me personally. He went raving mad on the aircraft.”

  Karim looked at her with compassion.

  “I remember the first time I lost a patient. It took me a long time to get over the guilt. That drama you had from the husband is awful. Was there no one to take care of him and control his rage?” Karim asked.

  She shook her head dismissively.

  “There were people to deal with him all right. But he had said more than enough before they got me away from him. We stopped the C.P.R. after about forty minutes, which you probably know is longer than any standard procedure. The woman felt cold and rigid to me but I couldn’t give up and let go. I was looking into her empty eyes and thought ‘She must come back!’ I was very upset and I cried when they made me stop. I don’t know why but I kept apologising to the husband, maybe he saw that as a confession of guilt. It was all so messed up. She had died under my hands. I can’t help but feel that I failed her. My crying was playing into his hands. He claims now that we must have made a mistake.”

  Although Hanna was still not crying she took out a tissue and blew her nose.

  “Very nasty,” Karim commented. “But I am sure you have nothing to worry about. He would find it very difficult to prove that you made any mistakes. There is not that much you can do wrong with resuscitation that your colleagues would not have picked up on while you were doing it. Trust me he will never win, unless for example he could prove that you were drunk or untrained; I take it the company did a blood and drug test on you after you landed?”

  Hanna put the tissue away and straightened up.

  “Yes, they did. I am positively in the clear when it comes to all that and in any case, I believe the airline is insured for this kind of thing. Maybe the problem is me and my silly attitude. The company has removed me from flying duties for the time being so I can sort myself out. I have their support but can anything ever take away the doubt in my own mind that maybe I could have saved that woman, or if someone else had found her maybe they could have and she would have lived?”

  She let out a big sigh.

  “I understand. I am sure you did your best, just the way I always do. We are not gods to save their lives and we did not put these people in to the situation where they needed our help. Some people just die and the best medicine and treatment cannot save them. It is not your fault,” Karim reassured her.

  “Thank you.”

  Hanna smiled briefly but then her face froze again in a frown.

  “I know that but I cannot make myself feel it. Whenever I think about it my stomach churns. I can’t sleep at night and if I do I keep dreaming about it.”

  “I am truly sorry. If I had known how much you had on your mind I would have kept the conversation a bit more light hearted. Call me any time if you need someone to talk to, confidentially of course. Here is my card.”

  “Thank you.” She took the card and put it in her purse.

  “You should also go and see a doctor. Get something for the sleep and the worries. It will do you good. I could recommend a good counsellor. I can pull some strings so that you won’t have to wait.”

  “Why would you do all that for a total stranger?” she asked, bewildered. “I am a good ten years older than you and the state that I am in now, please don’t expect me to get involved with anyone.”

  “That’s fine,” he said. “You see, my helper complex is bigger than my God complex,” he said with a grin. “And my help is not conditional on anything.”

  “Thank you,” she said, relieved. “I just don’t want to lead anyone on.”

  “Now start from the beginning and tell me everything that happened on that plane,” he said.

  So Hanna told him, and Karim asked her questions and took notes throughout.

  “As a professional I can assure you that you haven’t done anything wrong,” he summed up.

  “Thank you.”

  It was late by the time they left the restaurant together and Karim pushed his bicycle until Hanna had reached her car, then they parted ways, without any awkwardness between them over the rejection. She felt a lot better about everything.

  Back home her parents were already asleep. Walter had left the lights on in the kitchen and as she went in to switch them off she saw a note on the kitchen table. Her heart sank as she read it:

  Hanna,

  The phone rang off the hook for you tonight. What is going on? Why are these people calling here? Please call them back and make sure they do not use the landline again. We mustn’t disturb your mother!

  Your manager Martin Shah

  A solicitor by the name of Richard Lewis

  A union rep called Nicky Markus

  Constable Derek Young!!!!

  And your brother Henrik in Wales

  (Tell him to call more often!)

  Sleep well!

  Dad

  Chapter 10: Saturday Morning

  Hanna took the note and went upstairs to her room. Confiding in Karim had helped to calm her, temporarily, but now reality was catching up with her in her hiding place. The list of callers from her father’s note suggested that the airline had tried her ‘in case of emergency’ number, which was actually her brother Henrik and they must have persuaded him to disclose her current location. Switching off her mobile phone and sticking her head in the sand had not stopped the world from turning. She was puzzled how the union had got hold of her parents’ number as well, even though she was actually quite grateful for that. It all pointed to Henrik, since he had called here at the same time.

  After a few hours of tossing and turning in her bed without getting any sleep she decided to get up and do something. It was too late to return those calls now so she decided to switch on the computer and read some of the emails waiting for her. Maybe the bereaved husband had already withdrawn his complaints and the whole affair was being put to rest?

  She went to her father’s study but as predicted the computer took an awf
ully long time to warm up. Hanna took out her mobile phone and switched it back on to see if Henrik had left her a message.

  The phone vibrated excessively, announcing continually missed calls, text messages and new voice mail. Amongst mostly personal messages from colleagues and friends were the important ones. Her manager Martin had left a few of them, asking her with increasing urgency to call him back. He had not said anymore. How on earth had he got hold of her mobile number as well? She had gone to considerable lengths to keep it out of the company records and successfully resisted all pressure for it after the plane had touched down in London two days ago.

  Constable Derek Young sounded very friendly and relaxed and informed her that he would have to meet her to go over the preliminary statement she had given. It was nothing unusual and no cause for concern, but she was naturally entitled and invited to bring a lawyer.

  The lawyer had informed her that a call from the police regarding her statement was imminent. The union rep, Nicky, was just trying to see if there was anything they could do and gave her private number, to make sure Hanna had 24/7 care if needed. What a darling, Hanna thought, taking her job that seriously.

  At last, the all explaining message from her brother Henrik who confessed to disclosing her location and their parents’ already phonebook listed number to everyone.

  He was concerned for her and wanted to know if she was okay? Was there anything he could do for her and could she please call him when she got this – day or night.

  She noticed the professional tone in all of the communications: no accusations, but also no absolutions.

  Her friends wanted to help but they were not helping. The attention was making the whole thing only bigger than it already was. She dreaded having to call all of these people back. She sent a text to Henrik to at least put him out of his misery:

  All OK. Don’t worry your pretty head, bro. I will call you tomorrow. Hx.

  She wondered what he had told their father. That was the ultimate drama: to tell her dad and it was now only a matter of when, not if. She could already imagine his speech. He had been waiting for something like this all of his life and always blamed her for the accidents and dramas that kept happening in her life.