His friend, Mark, had been at the hospital every day since the accident and he had the brilliant idea of playing Barry’s favourite music to him on a cassette recorder. He also made up a short tape of the lads together with the motorbikes and the engines revving up hard. The sounds seemed to reach deep into Barry’s mind for he was writhing and wriggling most of the time but when Mark played the tapes including Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon, he calmed down, eager to listen.
It was Mark who had introduced his friend to this style of music and he had scores of tapes of Pink Floyd, David Bowie and the like, which appealed to Barry. Barry, therefore had forgotten pop music and had become deeply involved, spending some of his hard-earned cash on long-playing records instead of the bike.
The second week arrived. Patricia was now sleeping at home as Barry seemed to be out of immediate danger and she just hoped and prayed that he would not be in a coma for too long. She was made aware, by the hospital staff of the possibilities that he might never regain consciousness and could he like a vegetable for the rest of his life.
Patricia was determined to do everything she could. She went into the ward, one day, to find a priest standing over Barry.
‘What’s the matter?’ she shrieked. ‘Has he...?’
‘No, no, no,’ said the priest abruptly. ‘I am Thomas Burrows and I have been assigned to this patient.’ His eyes did not stray from his watch as he spoke for he was counting Barry’s pulse rate.
‘Oh, I am sorry,’ said Patricia. ‘I am his mother, Patricia Connors.
‘I am pleased to meet you,’ said Thomas. ‘Yes, I am afraid your son is rather the worse for wears, but I’ll do my best for him.’
Just then Susan came in.
‘Visiting time hasn’t started yet,’ said Thomas, looking disapprovingly at Susan.
‘But I’m his girlfriend - I have always been allowed in before,’ she said, upset at this new person giving her orders.
‘Oh, all right then, but don’t stay too long - Barry needs his rest,’ said Thomas. Susan was standing by the bed looking at Barry. Suddenly, without a care in the world, Barry lifted his arm and began stroking Susan’s rather large, left breast.
‘Good grief - he’s unconscious and he still knows what’s what!’ said Thomas sternly.
Susan was smiling for she didn’t want to stop him and she hoped that this contact would do something for him. Then, what they’d all been waiting for happen.
‘Sally, Sally,’ said Barry. Patricia, delighted at her son’s first words, quickly saw the disappointment on Susan’s face.
‘It’s all right, Susan,’ she said. ‘It’s just that he knew Sally for a lot longer than he’s known you.’
Susan had mixed feelings, of course - she could see that Barry was recovering but he still favoured Sally in his sub-conscious mind.
‘Oh, this is wonderful,’ said Patricia. ‘What should we do now Thomas?’
At last Patricia had an adult to guide her and she felt that she could trust this man for he had a strong positive nature - and he was helping her son.
‘You must keep on just as you have been. Keep playing the music and when people come in, make sure that they talk to him. And can you ask this Sally to come and see him; she might be of some use.’ Thomas was giving his instructions confidently. He was still training for his certificate but seemed very knowledgeable on how to treat Barry.
Patricia followed his instructions and as soon as she got home, she dialled Sally’s number.
‘Hello, can I speak to Sally, please?’ Patricia said, when the receiver was picked up.
‘This is Sally speaking. Is that Mrs Connors? How’s Barry?’
‘Oh, hello, Sally. He’s improving and today he said his first word.’
‘Really? I am pleased. What did he say?’
‘He, err, he said your name - Sally,’ said Patricia.
Complete silence came from the other end of the phone for a few seconds then Sally started crying, softly, so Patricia continued.
‘The nurse in charge of him said that it might help if you come down to see him. Do you think it would be possible?’
‘Oh, yes. Please tell me when I can come down.’ Sally had gained control of her emotions once more and was very eager to go and see Barry.
‘Well, it’s too late now, but any time tomorrow would do.’
‘Can I see him in the morning? Is that allowed?’
‘Barry’s in such bad need of help that the nurses will let anyone who is able to help him go in. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.’
The next day arrived and Sally took some time off work to see Barry.
‘How is he?’ she asked when she saw Patricia.
‘Come with me and I’ll show you.’ Patricia led her to Barry’s bedside and immediately, Sally’s eyes filled with tears.
‘And who have we got here, then?’ Thomas strode into the room.
‘This is Sally, you know, the girl whose name was the first on Barry’s lips. She has kindly come down to try and help him,’ said Patricia.
‘I see,’ said Thomas, busily looking at the charts and notes beside Barry’s bed. ‘Well, can you talk to him and remind him of his happy days with you?’
‘I’ll try to,’ said Sally, searching her brain for the times she remembered most. Just then, Susan walked in.
‘Oh, hello, Susan. Sally has been kind enough to come in and see Barry,’ said Patricia, worried that Susan might get upset at seeing Sally beside Barry’s bed.
‘Oh, great, but why’s she here now’! It’s not visiting time.’
Patricia was right. Susan was a little indignant.
Thomas could see that his authority was called for.
‘Excuse me, ladies, but I am in charge, here, and it was I who asked for this young lady to come and visit Barry. Barry said her name so I wanted her to come to help him.’
Thomas’ strong tone of voice hushed Susan immediately and she watched Sally speaking to Barry and calming his movements, her gentle voice doing more than medicine could.
After an hour, Sally got up to leave.
‘I’d better get back to work now,’ she said, almost apologetically.
‘Thanks for coming in. I’m sure it has helped him. Will you come again?’ asked Patricia, hoping that Sally would be down many more times.
‘Oh yes, I’ll come again, that’s for sure.’
When she left, Susan was standing, sullen-faced in the corner.
‘Susan. It’s only for Barry’s good that she came down,’ said Patricia.
‘Yes, I’m sorry, but I don’t like seeing other girls with him,’ she said.
‘He should he better, soon, then you can have more of his attention.’ Patricia was unsure of this but had to keep Susan’s feelings for her son intact until he could decide for himself.
Barry continued to improve and by the middle of the third week, they were wheeling him around in a wheelchair. Mark took the wheelchair into the corridor outside the ward so that all Barry’s mates could see him. Barry put his left hand to his mouth.
‘Ciggy, ciggy,’ he mumbled.
‘What - you want a fag?’ said Mark, delighted at this improvement. ‘I’ll have to ask the nurse.’ He went to see Thomas, who was on duty in the office.
‘He wants a what? A cigarette? His lungs aren’t in that good a condition as he has been lying down for two weeks, but I suppose you can give him one but make sure you walk him around the gardens. This was an unorthodox style of nursing and Thomas knew that he would get a severe dressing down if Sister saw Barry smoking, but he considered that it would be good for his state of mind.
Barry was pushed into the garden and Ben offered him a cigarette.
‘There you go - you’re not getting any more, though,’ said Ben. He was
in the same financial position as Barry had been before the crash - a bike, a girl and not much money for cigarettes. Barry took the cigarette but Ben had to take it back to light it. Barry’s mother was standing behind him so when he got the lighted cigarette, he was peering to the left and to the right to see if she was about.
‘Oh look at him,’ said his mother to Mark, ‘he still knows that he shouldn’t do that.’
She would never stop him for he was making a good recovery and she wanted that to continue until he was back to normal.
He still had a long way to go though, for he could still only make the slightest sounds and sentences were impossible. Walking was out of the question for his skull had been damaged on the bottom left-hand side and that side of the brain controls the right-hand side of the body and vice versa, so the result was that the right-hand side of his body was paralysed. He couldn’t move his leg and his arm was stuck in a right-angled position across his body, which was pity because he was right-handed, but even as he had come out of the coma, he was learning to use the left hand quite well!
Barry improved rapidly from then onwards and in the fourth week, the nurses took him out of the single room at the end of the ward and put him halfway down the same ward. It was really a ward meant for older men but, as the staff were used to Barry, it made sense to keep him in the same ward and not to move him to a general ward for younger men.
He was now in control of his functions although the nurse had to give him a bath and he was attending physiotherapy and was progressing adequately. But when would he be better?
Chapter Four
Barry was lying in bed. All of a sudden he was starting to remember things and it was as though someone had lifted a bag off his head and he could see much more clearly. He didn’t jump up and yell with joy - he had known how to conduct himself before, so that hadn’t changed - but an uncanny realisation came over him. He could not remember a thing before: the cigarette in the garden, the small room, touching Susan, that was all a blank.
Suddenly, a beautiful young lady in a nurse’s uniform walked up. Barry had seen her before, so he knew her, but he was still besotted with her.
‘And how are you feeling, Barry?’ asked the nurse for she had been instructed to talk to him to try to encourage him to speak more. This was difficult because Barry had never been that full of words and the brain injury was on the side which had the greater control of speech. He therefore had to try to make use of the right-hand side of the brain when he talked and it was like learning to speak all over again. There must have been some trace of memory left in the damaged half of the brain for Barry knew simple words - it was just getting them out that was difficult. Once they had been retrieved and spoken, they seemed to be logged into the right side of his brain.
‘Hello Nina,’ said Barry. ‘I’m okay.’
‘Good. It’s time for your physiotherapy lesson so shall I push you down the corridor?’
‘Please,’ said Barry.
Nina pushed him quickly to the lesson and, all the time, Barry was wishing that he could just get up and ask her out.
‘Here you are, I’ll be back for you later,’ said Nina, disappearing back towards the ward.
Barry then had another boring session of physiotherapy; at least, that’s what he thought of it. Just sitting down doing the same old things time after time was not Barry’s idea of fun. He wanted fast action - plenty of things to do - and perhaps that was the reason why he was there in the first place.
‘All right, Barry, you can go back to your ward now,’ said the physiotherapist.
Barry went towards the wheelchair. ‘And you can leave that there,’ she said, strictly. ‘Please walk back.’
Barry looked at her, with slightly scared eyes. ‘What?’ he said.
‘Yes, you can now walk back to the ward - you don’t need that wheelchair any more.’
Barry thought of the one hundred and fifty yards back to the ward and it did not fill him with excitement but he had no other choice, so he set off, limping badly, for his right leg was very stiff. It wasn’t the bending of the leg at the knee that caused the biggest problem, it was bending his ankle that was so difficult. His Achilles tendon had swollen to a massive size and would only just bend far enough to allow him to put his foot flat on the ground. When he went forwards to put his left foot down, the right foot came up to rest on the toes and caused pain to zigzag through his ankle. He was bright enough to adapt, however and he took smaller steps so did not force the ankle to bend at all. It would take longer to get to places but, oh, much less painful.
He was half back to the ward when he met Nina who was coming to get him.
‘Well, well, look at you! You’re getting your independence back,’ she said, trying to bolster his confidence. Then, to Barry’s delight, she slipped her arm through his. ‘Just to support you on your first trip back,’ she said. Barry didn’t care why she had done it - in Barry’s state, walking down the corridor with a beautiful girl was enough to make him sing.
It was just after lunchtime and Barry was in his sixth week at the hospital and things were getting tedious. Physiotherapy, speech therapy, lunches and visiting time were the brightest periods of the day and hours of nothing filled the spaces between them. He couldn’t read because he just hadn’t the concentration to hold the ideas in his head as he read the pages - this was another effect of the brain damage. His immediate memory was almost gone so he had to search around for something to do before the next cigarette.
Thomas walked up to him.
‘Come on Barry, get your coat on. We’re going to see a friend of mine.’
‘Am I allowed to?’ questioned Barry.
‘Now just see here, I am looking after you so you’re in safe hands,’ said Thomas sternly.
Thomas had the most amazing ability to do almost whatever he liked. He could convince people about things with his power of words and his black suit added to his authority. He led Barry to his car.
‘Right, get in and we’ll be off,’ said Thomas. He hadn’t seen the Sister on the ward so had an easy mind. Barry was getting excited. His first trip outside the hospital! What a thrill.
Thomas drove through London complaining about all the other drivers’ faults.
‘Look at him - does he know where he wants to go? Oh no, it’s a woman driver. Get off the road,’ said Thomas, seeming to work himself up as he drove along. Barry just laughed for he found Thomas’ antics quite funny.
‘Where are we going?’ asked Barry.
‘I’ve got a friend I want to see in town. Have you ever been there?’
‘No I haven’t,’ replied Barry.
‘Well you can say that your outlook is being widened,’ said Thomas, implying that he was the one who should be praised for treating Barry.
They reached a church and Barry was told to wait whilst Thomas went to see his friend, Malcolm. Barry started to get bored after twenty minutes for there was not even a radio in the car. After another ten minutes, Thomas appeared and quickly drove Barry back to the hospital.
‘Just in time for visiting hour,’ said Thomas, as they drove into the car park. As they went into the ward, Thomas was instructed to see the Sister.
‘And just what were you doing taking a patient in his condition out of the hospital?’ said the Sister abruptly.
‘He needs to go outside the building. He is recovering well so to save him from getting bored, and to assist his psychological rehabilitation, he needs to do more.’ Thomas was quite sure of himself and made the Sister question her doubt in him.
Well, please will you tell me before you go, next time? He is my responsibility you know,’ she said.
‘Yes, yes, I’ll do that,’ said Thomas with an impatient air. ‘Oh, I would like to take him out tomorrow night with his family. Is that okay?’
‘Just make sure
he is back by 9.30 p.m.,’ she said.
‘I’ll try to make sure of that,’ said Thomas, as he disappeared from the office.
He was getting on very well with Barry’s mother. He was a single man and in his late twenties and Patricia found his dominant attitude attractive. He was someone to whom she could relate to; someone who made decisions quickly; someone who she could see often; someone who was looking after her son.
The next evening arrived.
‘Come on Barry. We are going out for the evening.’ Barry was getting used to being carted all around by Thomas.
‘Where are we going?’ asked Barry.
‘Never you mind - it’s a surprise!’ said Thomas, as they walked towards the car. They had only driven about a mile when Thomas drove the car into the car park of a public house - The Crown.
‘This is my local,’ proclaimed Thomas. ‘Your family and friends are all inside waiting for you.’ Barry was delighted and he was looking forward to tasting beer again.
As they walked into the bar that Thomas frequented, a sea of friendly faces looked up at Barry. He certainly enjoyed the evening although he wasn’t too keen on the pint of light and bitter that Thomas bought him, but as it got later, he started feeling extremely tired.
Six weeks of doing very little had wasted the power in his muscles and he urged his mother to take him back, he urged his brother to take him back and he urged Thomas to take him back but to no avail. That pub was Thomas’ second home.
Ten o’clock came and Barry was actually beginning to feel pain as he sat there.
‘Come on Thomas, I’ve got to get back,’ pleaded Barry. ‘This is my first time out at night and I feel dreadful.’
Thomas looked at the pain on Barry’s face.
‘Just let me finish this drink and we’ll go,’ said Thomas, pointing to half a pint of beer. Barry’s heart dropped. Is this guy really trying to help me or what? he thought. Thomas drank his beer quickly and took Barry back. Barry fell into bed and was asleep within minutes, just as Thomas was trying to explain to the Sister the benefit Barry had gained from the night out and his late return.
Would You Believe Him? Page 4