This became a regular occurrence, every two or three nights, although Patricia had spoken to Thomas and persuaded him to return earlier. This, together with the gradual improvement in Barry’s condition, enabled him to enjoy trips to the pub more.
Barry was in his seventh week at the hospital and he was getting to know who his friends were. Mark came to see him every day and Ben usually came with him and they would sit in the hospital corridor and joke. Susan was visiting him less, blaming buses, school and just about everything else and Barry began to question himself about his feelings for her. She was a friendly girl who was full of life, but he knew that he didn’t really like her all that much. She had been good for his ego, good for enlightening him to the joys of sex but they were not a match intellectually. As he was into a totally new lifestyle now, he seriously thought of ending the relationship. He knew that he would really like to get back with Sally, but he had chucked her and she had a new boyfriend now. There was no way that he could confidently stride back into her life what with everyone helping him and trying to dote on him.
His family all came to see him, regularly, all that is apart from his grandfather and his younger brother, Anthony. They both hated hospitals so much that they couldn’t even pop in to see Barry, not that Barry minded that much - he had the other visitors to talk to and be with.
It was all getting boring and the hospital couldn’t help much more. He was living, walking and talking so the doctors had decided to let him go home at the weekends. If that proved successful, he was to be discharged soon.
After breakfast on Saturday morning, Patricia arrived to pick Barry up in her automatic. This car had already been stolen once from the hospital car park, but had been found the next day, in one piece but without any petrol. She took Barry home and he was overjoyed to see the place where he had been born again.
‘This feels good,’ said Barry. Patricia just smiled and called Ivan to help Barry down the steep steps. ‘I’m not too bad,’ said Barry, trying to fool himself about his power of movement.
‘That’s okay,’ said Ivan, taking a firm grip around Barry’s shoulders. ‘I don’t want you to have another fall.’
‘They inched their way down the steps and into the semi-detached house and Barry walked to the back door.
‘Good to be back,’ he exclaimed.
During that day the whole neighbourhood seemed to descend on the house and Barry got quite tired, having to concentrate on speaking to each new person.
‘Didn’t know we had so many neighbours,’ said Barry at lunchtime, wishing that the invasion would stop.
‘They’re just so pleased to see you,’ said his mother, reassuring him.
It did seem strange to Barry though, when people would come in and try and chat to him. They would put forward ideas and Barry’s response was almost nothing. He might say ‘Yes’ or ‘I see’ or ‘Oh’, but he didn’t have the capacity in his brain for detailed discussions. This rather made people think that he wasn’t interested in them but they did not, they could not understand the effects of the accident for they had probably never have seen anything similar.
Injuries to the brain are so complex and no two injuries can ever have exactly the same effect on two people. If, one had an injury to the back of the brain and one to the front, the parts of the brain injured would control different parts of the body. The outcome of each injury would therefore be totally different. If two people had injuries in the same area and one was younger, that person would probably have stronger powers of recuperation. If two young people had similar injuries, and one had greater will power that told him to get up and try, he might get better faster. Neurology - the treatment concerned with the anatomy, functions, and organic disorders of nerves and the nervous system - was in its infancy. As in Barry’s case, if you damaged the brain, it was irreparable and so they left you to die. Few fought as strongly as Barry.
The weekend passed quickly and soon he was back in hospital. He didn’t mind too much as he hoped that he was going home on Tuesday or Wednesday. He had made a fantastic recovery - although he didn’t really see it. From death’s door to a walking, talking young man seemed incredible to the nurses and they were quite proud that their ward had cared for him but all Barry knew was that he was not using his body in the correct way and this had to be improved, quickly.
On the Wednesday he was allowed to go home because the hospital could do no more for him and the bed was needed for another patient. He did not know what was going to happen to him. So he thought about the future, with some trepidation, as his limp was still bad and his right arm was still paralysed and folded across his body.
‘Come on then, Barry,’ said his mother. We can go home now.’ They walked to the car.
‘What’s going to happen to me now? questioned Barry.
‘Oh yes, we’ve been speaking to the doctors and told us to get in touch with the rehabilitation centre. It is right next door to the major hospital dealing with brain damage in this area. We spoke to them and they want to see you to find out whether they can help you at all.’
Barry guessed that the we were Thomas and his mother. It was probably due to Thomas’ powers of persuasion that he was to be seen so quickly for it was a very busy centre and had a long waiting list. In fact, Barry had a lot to thank Thomas for. Without his strong will and dedication to helping, Barry may have never have re-started his life as well as he was doing now. Thomas had possibly really saved his life, mentally.
‘Do you think they can do anything to help me?’ asked Barry, wondering if anyone could perform miracles on his twisted body.
‘This is the best place in the region to get help,’ said his mother, ‘I am sure that they will be able to get you going, again.’
The consultation came in the following week and a top neurologist spoke to them and studied Barry’s condition. Barry was then sent outside to wait while the specialist had a discussion with Patricia and Thomas.
About twenty minutes later, Thomas came around the corner with a beaming smile on his face.
Well, I’ve got you a place,’ he said triumphantly. ‘You start on Monday the sixteenth of December.’
‘Will I miss Christmas?’ asked Barry.
‘You may do, if you don’t do well enough?’ said Thomas, chortling.
‘Now don’t worry,’ said Patricia who had heard the last remark. ‘You’ll be here from Monday to Friday and then you’ll come home at the weekends.’
‘How many weeks will I be here for?’ asked Barry.
‘They’ve put you down for three months, but they will see how you improve. You must try your best,’ said Patricia.
‘Oh! I’ll do that,’ said Barry, as they walked out of the building.
Chapter Five
Patricia had taken some time off work on the Monday morning when Barry first started at the rehabilitation centre in order to drive the seven miles to the door. As she drove into the car park, she saw a look of fear on Barry’s face.
‘Now, isn’t this place wonderful? The buildings are new and it’s marvellous that you have got in so quickly,’ said Patricia, trying to put a little enthusiasm into Barry’s mind.
‘S’pose so,’ said Barry. He was not too worried about his fast move into the centre for he was ill and the hospital was there to help him, free of charge, just as it should be. He was more concerned about coping with life in his weakened state as his arm was still paralysed and he could only just hobble along. It was still difficult to accept this position in life.
‘Oh, come on now. This is the best place in the country to assist you so you must be pleased! Let’s ask this nurse what we should do.’
The nurse directed them to the reception desk and there they were told to wait for someone to show Barry to his room.
‘I don’t think you need me anymore,’ said Patricia, worrying about the i
ncreasing time that she had been absent from work.
‘Okay, mum, thanks for bringing me over. I’ll call you this evening and tell you what’s been happening.’ They kissed goodbye and Patricia scurried away to her car. Barry went and stood by the desk and saw two middle-aged women tidying papers.
‘I’m Barry Connors...’ he started.
‘Yes, we were expecting you,’ said the more senior of the two. Will you go and sit down in the waiting area, over there, and a nurse will be along shortly.’ This lady was well suited to the job as her voice was definite but had a kind tone to it. Barry shuffled over to the chairs she had pointed to and saw a couple of old men sitting there.
‘What’s it like here? Any good?’ Barry tried to communicate with the nearest man. He needn’t have bothered for the man continued to sit, with a blank expression on his face as both he and the other man had had bad strokes and couldn’t manage to sit and chatter idly with fellow patients.
Barry felt sorry for them as he sat down and realised how the brain was so important to the body and how bad a state his accident had left him in, when a nurse came in.
‘I’m Nurse Carter and I’ve come to show you to your room. Is that all you have in the way of luggage?’ she said, pointing at the small bag beside Barry.
‘Yes, that’s all I’ve got.’
‘Well, bring it with you and follow me,’ she said, with an air of authority.
Barry followed the nurse along the corridor and down two flights of stairs. As Barry walked gingerly down the stairs, the nurse watched making sure that he could manage. They came to a single bedroom on the lower floor.
‘Leave your bag here and I’ll show you around,’ said the nurse. She took him to a large room on the same floor. ‘This is the games room. You can play with all the equipment in this room when you have free periods. Do you play snooker?’ she asked, pointing to the large snooker table in the middle of the room.
‘Well, I haven’t played since my accident, but I would like to try,’ said Barry, momentarily forgetting about his paralysed arm. He looked for a snooker cue.
‘We’ll have to treat that arm first,’ said the nurse, who knew that Barry could not even cue up at present let alone hit the balls.
‘Oh, yes,’ said Barry, remembering his disability.
‘Just don’t tear the cloth!’ the nurse instructed, with a hint of humour in her voice.
Next they went upstairs to the ground floor and this was where all the therapy was given during the day. Barry was shown the speech therapist’s room which was small so that each member of a small group could hear each other, clearly.
Opposite was the occupational therapist’s room which, naturally enough, was full of tools and materials.
‘Are you any good at woodwork?’ asked the nurse.
‘No, not really,’ replied Barry. ‘I’ve only ever done six months’ woodwork at school and I didn’t like that.’
‘Oh, well, you’ll have plenty of time to practice here. Woodwork is good therapy because it gives you something to concentrate on and something to use your right hand on.’
They walked around the corner to find a large swimming pool which was relatively empty.
‘I don’t think that you will need this when your arm’s straight,’ said the nurse.
‘Humph, but when will that be? Can you straighten it quickly?’
‘I should think so,’ said the nurse, with an air of confidence.
They walked to the last room on the floor and this was the gymnasium.
‘You will do your arm a lot of good here with all the exercises and the therapy,’ said the nurse.
‘But I’ve already done a lot of exercises at the hospital and that hasn’t done my arm any good!’ Barry was remembering his dislike of exercising and was hoping for a miracle cure.
‘We have professionals here with tremendous knowledge of the exercises that work. You’ll be in good hands.’
Barry was then shown the dining room with the lounge and television rooms opposite. Finally, they went outside to look around the grounds and back to his room. By that time, he was getting rather hungry.
‘What time is lunch, here, nurse,’ he asked, his stomach rumbling, noisily.
‘One o’clock. You’ll have time to settle in and put your clothes in the cupboards before going up to the dining room. Is there anything you would like to know about the centre?’
‘No, I guess I’ll find out anything I need to know later.’
The nurse left Barry sitting on his bed. He looked around the tidy, sparsely furnished room wondering if this small institution could really do anything for him for it seemed such an uphill task. This was the second part to his first ever visit to hospital so he had no idea how fast his recovery would be. Would he ever be able to write again? Would he ever play football or ride a motorbike again? He would just have to do as his father had often told him in his youth to try, try, try again until you do suck eggs.
Barry went up to find the dining room at 12.55 p.m. As he walked through the doorway, he was shocked to see so many elderly people, all of whom suffered from having strokes. He had never had any experience of people with this affliction so didn’t really know what to do. He scanned the room and saw younger people who had suffered a similar fate to his own. He looked closer and saw that the disabilities of these younger people were all different to his and that most were more severe than his, necessitating the use of walking frames. He somehow felt slightly relieved at not being as bad as others, whilst still feeling sorry for them. He continued to stare around the room as he went to a vacant table and sat down and he was there for several minutes before he guessed that it was a self-service canteen. As he walked over to the trolley to pick up his cutlery, an abrasive young man pushed his way in front of Barry. He was struggling along and waving his walking stick in a hostile manner.
‘Excuse me!’ said Barry, indignantly.
‘I was here first,’ said the boy, panting. And, besides, you are a new boy. You wait your turn.’
Barry, still finding his feet - in more ways than one - just stared at the horrible little man with surprise on his face. He quickly glanced around the room to see if anyone was watching but they were all too busy feeding themselves to notice. The nurses, who were there to help any person with difficulties, didn’t seem to take any notice either, so Barry shrugged his shoulders and waited for him to go.
Finally, Barry got his meal and went back to his place and there was a young lady sitting at his table, looking rather sheepish.
‘Hello there,’ said Barry. ‘I’m new here. Have you been here long?’
‘I’ve been here for two weeks so I’m getting used to it,’ said the girl.
‘Hope you don’t mind if I ask you some questions, oh, and I’m Barry.’
‘Hello, Barry. I’m Nicola. Ask what you want for I’m in no hurry to go anywhere.’
‘Who’s that nasty little jerk over there? I don’t know if you saw, but he shoved me out of the way, quite rudely, when I was about to get my lunch.’
‘That’s Bruce. He’s like that all the time. He thinks that the world should bow down to him and no one likes him,’ said Nicola.
‘But why’s he like that? He is in a weaker position with all his disabilities so how can he think he’s the king?’
‘I’m not sure. I’ve seen his parents doting on him a lot so maybe that’s made him feel superior.’
‘He’ll come down to earth with a bang, one day,’ said Barry, with a hint of malice in his voice.
Just then, a young man was pushed into the canteen in a big wheelchair and as he came through the doorway, he was swearing to high heaven. His face was cruelly misshapen and one eye was closed. His right leg and arm were trying to work but his left side was completely paralysed. He needed a lot of help.
&nb
sp; ‘Oh dear,’ said Nicola. ‘That’s George and he’s the worst case here. It’s a pity to see someone like that. He hasn’t got any better since I’ve been here - he’s in such a bad way, he can’t respond, positively to any instructions. I wonder if they can do anything for him?’
‘Yes, I see what you mean,’ murmured Barry. ‘Do you know what happened to make him like this?’
‘That’s even sadder. He was hitching a lift on the way home from his girlfriend’s and a car stopped. They set off and George didn’t realise that the driver was drunk. They crashed into the back of a lorry and whilst the driver walked away unhurt, George was left like that. Oh, life can be so cruel.’
Barry had made his first friend at the Centre. Nicola was a couple of years older than he but that really did not matter to him much. They were both in the same boat with their disabilities. She had quite a plain face, but that was to be expected when she wasn’t wearing any make-up. She was a bright, cheery girl and was an incentive to Barry to push himself forward.
She was attracted to Barry for he had large, blue eyes, which most girls liked and he was tall with long hair, which was the fashion in those days.
His accident had changed his personality markedly. Whereas before, he had had a shy, guarded nature, was tense at times and worried a lot but had a good command of the language, now he was much more laid-hack. If he couldn’t do something or he found speaking difficult, who cared?
Nicola was growing to like this laissez-faire attitude and Barry had quite a wit about him, which girls also liked. As people said things, he could copy their speech with similar ideas, which took the sting out of people’s sentences and made them laugh.
They finished their lunch.
Well, I must go and find out what I should he doing, this afternoon,’ said Barry. ‘Shall I see you at dinner?’
Would You Believe Him? Page 5