drinking, things got a bit out of control. Pint followed after pint, then it was port after port. I don’t know why, but port is Keith's favourite drink. I have a vague recollection of being in a club and then in KFC, but that’s about it. Mainly I remember, and can still taste, the port.
Today I spent the day just lying around. I may take up reading. I’m too old to go out on the town. It’s not worth the trouble.
Wednesday May 23rd 2012
I got War and Peace out of the library today. I asked the librarian what was a good classic book to start with; she asked what my reading level was and I didn’t know what she meant, so replied that it was excellent.
I’m going to start the book tomorrow. Tonight I just fancy watching the tele.
Friday May 25th 2012
War and Peace is awful. I read a whole five pages and there wasn’t one murder, just some old bloke wandering around. It’d be far better if there was a horse and cart chase or something. This is now my Friday night. That and trying to get Alison comfortable with the various sized pillows that keep showing up in my house. I’m not sure where she gets them all from, people must bring them round as she doesn’t go out.
Sunday May 27th 2012
The baby now has all the white gunk over him that’ll make him waterproof and safe while he’s still inside Alison. Boris told me that when the babies come out they don’t let you wash them off before you hold them, you have to hold the baby with all the white stuff on them. I’ve Googled a picture of a newborn and I have to tell you, Diary, I wish I hadn’t.
Monday June 4th 2012
7.00 a.m.
Alison woke up in the night with pains in her stomach; we phoned the hospital who suggested checking if there was blood. She did and there was. They recommended that we get to the hospital quick sharp. I drove Alison’s car like I’d stolen it and, luckily, got us there without causing anyone any more bleeding.
A&E was packed, although the nurses on reception must have had word we were on our way as they told us to go straight through the waiting area and into the secret waiting area they don’t tell the time wasters and broken leg brigade about. I made a mental note to remember this place. No sooner had I parked Alison onto a seat than another nurse came over and led us off into a side room. It must have been about three minutes from car to examination room.
I was asked to wait outside by the doctor who entered shortly after we had. It was for no other reason than there were now three of us standing over the bed where Alison lay and there just wasn’t room for us all; seeing as I had the least medical qualifications, by rights it was me that had to stand outside the door. Well, curtain – which they promptly closed behind me.
I got bored and my legs hurt after about three minutes so I went back to the secret waiting area, which was just up the corridor a bit. I still wish I hadn’t now, there was an old man that wasn’t moving in a chair, and a teenager with his arm bent the wrong way at the elbow. It was worse than watching some of the videos I’ve had the misfortune to watch on Facebook before.
I ended up just hovering outside the examination rooms, although it took me two guesses to remember which one Alison was in. This was even more unfortunate, as I got to see someone’s leg that was cut open from the ankle to the knee, like it had been unzipped. There was literally nowhere safe for me to stand to be away from such evil. It couldn’t get much worse. Well, until I drew back the curtain on the room that Alison was in and saw what was happening in there. I’m not even going to do myself the damage of reliving it here, on paper. I backed out and went to the car park, where I smoked three of the four cigarettes I had left until my phone rang and Alison told me she’d been give the all clear and that it was just a bit of blood. She hadn’t seen me when I walked into the room, so she was unsure where I’d got to. I was too tired to complain about my terrible night and just wanted to get home, so I took her back to the car we’d abandoned on the way in and we drove home.
Alison went straight to bed when we got in. I’d woken up during the drive and didn’t feel like sleeping. I could have lost my son today. With all the gruesome sights I’d seen, I hadn’t thought about the situation when we were at the hospital; it was when I was alone at home that it hit me. I’ve realised that I definitely want a son, there is no doubt whatsoever that I want to be a father.
I make a commitment to you and anyone that reads this book three thousand years in the future that I will find a different job and I will cut a good father figure.
I’ve had no sleep now and there is only an hour before I’m due to be at work.
10.00 p.m.
Work was awful today, I started feeling really tired just after we finished serving breakfast. Alison texted me throughout the morning to let me know how she was. She had a day lying around. No work again for her today.
I spent some time this afternoon wondering how good it would be to be a woman. I mean, during this pregnancy Alison has had at least five weeks off work, all here and there. I’d love to be able to ring in when I didn’t feel like going to work and not be questioned as to why I wasn’t going in. I’ve heard women talk about how much pain pregnancy is, but I don’t think it can be that bad, Mother Nature wouldn’t make it so that no one ever wanted to do it, or we’d run out of people, we’d simply stop having babies and the human race would die off. I’m sure as an alien warlord you’ve had genetic remodelling or something, but here we just have to reproduce the old way.
It would also be nice to use the toilet sitting down for everything without being called a tranny over the cubicle by Boris. He was in there today while I was hiding. I only needed a number one, but I went in the stalls just to sit down and take the weight off my feet. It’s also not much of a break if you just stand somewhere other than you were standing before, and seeing as they don’t have anywhere to sit in the warehouse (which is the only other place to hide) it was the toilet that got the pleasure of my company for my afternoon rest. I didn’t stay as long as I normally would, as once Boris had finished name calling over the cubicle wall he started being sick. It didn’t help my relaxation.
I picked up a nice curry for us both on the way home. Alison was pleased with it and wolfed it down. I asked her if she’d eaten anything all day. She hadn’t. We then had a bit of a row about how she needed to eat. I felt bad afterwards and apologised, but then we had the same row again. I made her a load of sandwiches and left them in the fridge. I’m in the spare room tonight, as Alison said she didn’t want to sleep in the same bed as someone as selfish as me.
Tuesday June 5th 2012
I’d booked today off so I made sure I was ready with breakfast in the morning for Alison, fruit salad and a bowl of cereal. I even went out for bread so she could have toast.
Alison wanted a lazy day today, but I managed to convince her to come for a walk in the park with me this morning. It was hot so we didn’t stay out long. It was nice to break the day up, though. I asked Alison if she had any fear about having a boy; she said she didn’t mind what sex it was as long as it had all its fingers and toes. I did ask what would happen if it was missing one finger or if one was shorter than the rest, but Alison just told me to stop being silly.
I made a chicken salad for lunch then we watched a film this afternoon. Being rushed into hospital doesn't seem to have fazed Alison. She’s taking it all in her stride. I know she was worried on the day and that the examination wasn’t a nice thing to go through, but I’m noticing more and more how emotionally intelligent and strong she is as a person. I’m not; I’m a nightmare. Alison being as staunch as she is makes me realise how emotionally unstable I am.
The midwife, Bev, popped round just before tea. She had heard that we were in hospital the other night and said she wanted to assure Alison that she was OK and that there wasn’t anything to worry about; she stayed for almost an hour talking to Alison. I busied myself in the kitchen, making tea and looking out of the window. I didn’t want to get involved too much in the conversation, just in case the topic went back to w
hatever it was they were doing in the cubicle at the hospital.
Before Bev left she popped her head into the kitchen. I was still looking out the window with a sink load of washing up in front of me that I had been too distracted to do. Once I knew she was there I pretended to have just been pausing for a moment and got back to washing dishes. I felt like I was in trouble. I didn’t want to get told off, so I just kept saying ‘Just a moment’ every time she tried to speak. When I’d finished drying my hands, I allowed Bev to speak by shutting up and giving her eye contact for the first time.
‘I just wanted to assure you that everything is OK and that you’re doing all you should be,’ she told me, coming closer.
I’m not good in emotional moments.
‘I know that being an expectant father can be hard,’ she added, rubbing my arm.
I wasn’t sure how to respond, so I thanked her for letting me know and started moving towards the kitchen door. It wasn’t that I was being rude, Diary, it was that I didn’t want to cry in front of her. Sometimes when someone speaks about the very thing that has caused you to panic, then it brings it all back, which occurred as soon as Bev focused on what had happened the other night. It took me at least fifteen
The Diary Of An Expectant Father (The Diary Of A Father Book 1) Page 11