by Tara Ford
“Okay,” I said, surprised by the urgency in his voice. “Can you contact my husband and let him know where I’m going?”
I was trying to think what a lumbar puncture was – I’d heard of it before and worried about whether it would hurt. I don’t like ‘hurt’ but if I was given the option, I would probably choose hurt over death.
“You’ll be back tonight. We’ll get you transported over there and back, but I’ll make sure your husband knows.”
I desperately wanted to, but did not dare ask what a lumbar puncture was. I didn’t want to look dumb in front of this admirable man.
“Thank you.” I sighed, feeling relieved that Grant would be told where I was going. I would prefer it if he came with me, just in case I had to have a lumbar puncture and it hurt. It sounded like something would get punctured in the lumbar region, wherever that was.
It was almost five o’clock, and I expected Grant would be back soon to visit me. I had hoped he would’ve been here sooner, but maybe he hadn’t got to sleep until late due to the phone calls he had to make and then sorting everyone out at home. No, that wasn’t Grant’s forte. I was the one who always sorted everything out in the Frey household, if only I was there. In hindsight, I decided that he had more than likely spent most of the day in front of the TV, thumbing through sport channels or washing his beloved car.
“Okay Alex,” said the doctor, patting my lower legs which were hiding in disgrace under the waffle blanket. “Do you have any questions?”
Umm, what’s a lumbar puncture? “No, nothing,” I replied, as he smiled, nodded his head gently in acknowledgement and left the room.
Slightly stunned by the doctor’s demonstration of genuine concern, I realised that I obviously was not going to get out of the hospital over the weekend. Grant would have to brush up on his efficiency skills and take on a new role as businessman, househusband, agony uncle, cleaner, mediator, meal provider, call centre operator (where Mum was concerned), timekeeper, calendar organiser, gardener, good neighbour, community spirit coordinator and an active curator of my gnome sanctuary. Oh, and then he would also have to do some shopping at the same time as taking mobile calls from Mum, and try to remember what he needed because he had forgotten to take a list.
The fact of the matter was that I had always done everything for everyone in our family, looking after all the household chores, arrangements and situations to the extent that everyone relied heavily upon me to be there and know what was what, all of the time. My overly efficient ‘I am the mother of all things’ attitude caused Grant to get uptight at times. He said I did too much for everyone else and didn’t help the kids to gain any kind of responsibility or independence. I knew deep down that he was right but it was just the way I was – I enjoyed taking care of my family and controlling a smoothly-running, happy household.
Some 40 minutes later Grant walked into the room with Emma trailing behind him. My face lit up like a Chinese lantern, a burning sensation pricking my eyes – Don’t cry, I told myself, not in front of Emma.
“All right, how are you feeling?” Grant bent down to kiss me. “They told me you’re going to the neuro unit.” He looked very worried.
Emma shuffled towards the bed with her fingers fumbling in her mouth.
“Are you gonna die Mum?” Moving around the side of Grant, she leant over to kiss my cheek.
“Em! You don’t say that when you come to a hospital for Christ’s sake!” Grant sounded overly angry.
“It’s all right Grant, she’s just curious.” I tried to calm him. “No I’m not Em. Glad you could come honey. Are you all right?”
A pouting lip and frown suggested that Emma was not all right, as she wore the typical ‘totally misunderstood teenager’ look on her young face. Trudging round to the other side of the bed, she plonked herself down on a chair and let out a loud ‘I want attention’ huff.
Sitting down on the sofa chair where he had spent most of the previous night, Grant sighed as I looked to him questioningly.
Sensing a dark grey cloud looming above them both, growing in intensity and predicting a thunderstorm, I puzzled the forecast as Grant twisted the corner of his mouth and shook his head nonchalantly.
“Right, what’s the matter?” I asked, searching from one face to another, trying to pick up some clues. Emma looked down at her shoes and Grant raised his eyebrows and stared at the ceiling. “Grant, tell me what’s wrong please!”
“I’ll tell you later, it doesn’t matter now.”
“Yes it bloody well does. Tell me! Come on, I want to know now!”
“Go on then, Emma.” Grant looked towards her as she continued to sit with her head hung low, fumbling with the carrier bag she had brought along with her. I hoped it contained my toiletries and underwear. Glancing both ways, from Emma and then back to Grant, I must have looked like a spectator at Wimbledon.
“I want to know what is wrong Grant. Tell me.” My voice had risen slightly, but not enough to attract any attention from outside of the room.
“I got a letter from the school today, about Emma.”
“What did it say? What’s the matter?” I turned to Emma but she had not lifted her head and remained still and quiet.
“She’s been vandalising school property Alex. We’ve got a bill for 70 pounds which has to be paid by the end of the month otherwise they will refer it to the police for prosecution.”
“You’re joking! How do they know it’s Emma? Are you serious?” The display of emotion was the most I had expressed in my whole hospital stay, which was less than 24 hours but felt like 24 days.
“They’ve got CCTV footage of her doing it. She kicked in a locker door,” said Grant as he stared at Emma with fiery eyes.
My mouth fell open as I watched him in horror – no wonder she was sat in the corner with her head held low like a praying nun.
“Emma, what have you done? Why?” I pleaded for a reasonable answer but she said nothing as she twiddled the carrier bag handles in her fingers. She had teenage attitude written all over her face.
“She’s grounded for a month and she’ll be doing extra jobs around the house until she’s paid the fine,” said Grant, looking to me for backup.
“Absolutely!” I agreed. “I can’t believe you have done something like that Em, it’s not like you.”
Emma continued to tie the handles in knots, slowly strangling the carrier bag, without looking up.
“Is there anything else?” I sensed there was more that Grant was not telling me.
“No, only that Aaron got lost on his way home.” Grant waited for the familiar ‘I told you so’ but it never came.
I smirked and asked, “Oh dear, did he miss his stop?”
“You could say that!” Grant huffed. “He got the wrong train completely. He’s in Birmingham! Jack’s trying to find him.”
Pulling myself up in the bed as best I could under the circumstances, I thought, I bloody knew it. I said he would get lost. However, I decided that Grant did not need to hear this.
“Oh God, how is Jack going to find him?” I needed to get out of this damned hospital, but how could I? It wasn’t like I just had a bit of flu and would get over it. I felt totally useless lying in bed and it frustrated me, although the feeling did not last too long as I had no energy to hold onto any thoughts of escape. The bus that I felt had hit me earlier had morphed into a high-speed train as the day had progressed.
“Don’t worry babe, Jack will find him, it’s all under control.” Grant knew that I would be pulling my hair out with worry, even if it wasn’t visible.
I resigned myself to the fact that I had to let Grant get on with things. I couldn’t burden myself by worrying about what was going on at home. I needed to concentrate on getting better... somehow.
“Here you are,” said Emma sulkily as she passed the strangled carrier bag to me.
“Thank you hun. Why did you do that at school, Em? Who was with you when you did it?”
“There were three of
us, Kasey, Morgan and me. They did it as well.” Emma said the last sentence as if it would make things seem better. If her friends had done it as well then it wasn’t so bad.
“For Christ’s sake Emma, you don’t copy others just so you can fit into the crowd. I know what you’ve done.”
She continued to look down as I spoke.
“You’ve tried to look clever in front of them haven’t you? I know what you’re like!”
She was just like me actually, when I was at school. I would have done anything to gain respect and acceptance from my peers.
“I do hope we will never hear of anything like this again Emma. I agree with your dad that you will pay for this yourself.” There, I had said my bit. As far as I was concerned, hopefully it would be a lesson learned. The punishment fitted the crime well and Emma would have to work hard at home to compensate our loss.
Opening the carrier bag, I took my handbag from it, leaving the other items inside. Looking into the dark bottomless pit of my bag, I could see the fluorescent pink case which held my mobile phone peeping up from the depths. Good, at least I could keep in contact with everyone now I had my phone. Reaching over, I placed both bags in the cabinet by the side of Emma. I would change my underwear later, having worn the same pair for 24 hours, I felt horrible, but it could wait a little longer.
“Is my toothbrush in there Em?”
“Yeah,” she huffed.
“Jump in, there’s a seat over there mate.” The paramedic pointed to a small fold-up chair in the ambulance. He was a jolly, robust man and cheerfully referred to the other paramedic as ‘his missus’.
I was placed alongside Grant on a stretcher and then the medic pulled two straps across my torso and legs to hold me down like a trussed-up chicken ready for the oven.
Emma was going to sit in the front with the woman, who was just as good-humoured as ‘her old man’, as she called him.
I assumed they were a couple or even married by the way they interacted with each other.
“Last one today, then we’ve got four days off, haven’t we Kate?” ‘The old man’ shouted through to the front of the vehicle.
“Yeah, can’t wait!” Kate replied from the driver’s seat where she was helping Emma to put on a fluorescent paramedic’s jacket.
Curiously, I wondered whether Emma was allowed to ride in the front of an ambulance, or was the jacket a disguise to hide the unqualified teenage medical assistant?
Grant held onto my hand as he sat poised opposite me and grinned from ear to ear like a little boy with a brand new bicycle.
Sensing his excitement, I just about managed to smile back at him to convey my recognition of his pending world-class, high-speed adventure. Unfortunately my enthusiasm lacked any kind of energy but Grant was already on another level of consciousness by now and didn’t notice.
“We doing blues all the way Kate?” the man shouted from his seated position at the end of my stretcher.
“Righty-ho!” she replied jovially.
As the ambulance pulled away from the hospital I watched the siren through the roof, flashing a blue light overhead.
Looking at me, Grant beamed again. “I’ve never been in an ambulance on blues!” He was so excited and the tone in his voice sounded very childish.
I stared at him despondently. I couldn’t have cared less that I was in a ‘blues’ ambulance racing towards another hospital, 20 miles away.
Emma and ‘the missus’ sat in the front listening to music blaring from the CD player as we headed out onto the main road and the siren started to sound. The vehicle picked up speed, weaving through the traffic that had pulled over to the curb, allowing passage for our apparent emergency.
Peering through the glass partition to the front windscreen, Grant reached ecstatic euphoria as he watched the ambulance cut through red traffic lights with ease.
Lying on the stretcher I felt relieved that I had been strapped down. Tossing from side to side, I bumped and banged against the sidebars of the stretcher as the ambulance veered from left to right like a snake winding through grass. I could hear Emma and ‘the missus’ singing at the tops of their voices to an Ed Sheeran song in the front cab, like they had known each other for years and were having a day out.
Grant held on tightly to the sidebars and spoke ardently to the paramedic at my feet about football teams and ambulances.
“Bet you love this job, mate!” he said to ‘the old man’.
“Yeah, it’s a legalised form of joyriding!” The man laughed as we seemed to go faster and faster.
Everyone appeared to be enjoying heightened, high-speed entertainment while I continued to feel like a tossed salad.
Wheeling me into the neurological unit, ‘the missus’ and ‘the old man’ held one end of the stretcher each while they continuously babbled away about their four-day break and what they were going to do, which seemed to be practically nothing.
Silently, Grant and Emma trailed behind in a daze, carrying my bags and wearing ridiculous looking G-force smiles on their faces.
After several minutes a nurse greeted us and showed us the way to my new bed. The zany paramedic couple expertly hoisted me onto the bed with ease and removed the stretcher from underneath my limp and battered body.
“Right, all the best to you,” the uniformed man said as he looked at me pityingly.
“Yeah, hope it goes okay,” said Kate, ‘the missus’. She was itching to go and start enjoying her short break.
“Thank you Kate,” said Emma shyly through her G-force smile.
“You’re welcome love.” Kate looked towards ‘the old man’. “I’ve got a new karaoke partner here, Jim.”
“You can have her!” laughed Grant, shaking Jim’s hand.
Emma looked down at the floor and tried to crack a vicious scowl into her cemented smile as Grant put his arm around her shoulder in repentance.
“Get off,” mumbled Emma, scooting out from under her dad’s arm, attempting to retain a moody teenager appearance, but to no avail.
“Thank you,” I managed to say, although I couldn’t be bothered to smile and didn’t have a semi-permanent etched grin, caused by the high velocity ambulance ride, like Grant and Emma did. I was losing energy and interest in everything rapidly. I had to try and pull myself together somehow, even if it was only mentally, as I couldn’t control my physical attributes. This unknown illness had taken hold like an all-encompassing cloak of depression.
The paramedics left. They had now finished work and looked forward to enjoying some lazy days in the sun.
Lying motionless, I watched Grant and Emma pull two chairs around to the side of the bed and plonk themselves down wearily. The smiles on their faces were imprinted and semi-permanent, like a clown’s oversized painted mouth. Having just experienced the ride of their lives, they were now contented, placid and slightly pathetic looking.
Two of the top neurosurgeons spent almost an hour with me while Grant and Emma went to the cafe to revive themselves after their rocket-riding daredevil adventure. The ‘top docs’ asked lots of questions, poked and prodded, twisted and turned my body, tested this and tested that and came to a conclusion.
The conclusion was that they didn’t know what was wrong with me. They had managed to rule out certain illnesses and diseases and the aggressive GBS possibility, but they were scratching their heads in puzzlement, like nit-infested children.
“We want to keep you here tonight Alex, and run more tests.”
I couldn’t exactly say, ‘No, take me back’, but I knew this would cause a problem for Grant and Emma as the car was parked back at the other hospital 20 miles away. I didn’t think for one minute that they would be able to call an ambulance, like a private taxi service, to take them back, although they probably would have liked to.
Moving me onto another ward, the porter placed my bed at the far end of the room next to a large window. It was dark outside and I couldn’t see if I had a nice view as the curtains were closed, leaving just a s
mall gap in the middle, but at least I could see that the glass was clear. I’d have to wait until the morning to see the world outside and hopefully the view would make me feel a little more human again. It was getting late and I knew Grant and Emma would have to find a way to get home somehow. Their return journey would certainly not live up to their arrival,that was for sure. We had not expected that I would have to stay here overnight.
“How are you going to get back, Grant?” I said as they returned from the café a second time, and no doubt, another ‘breath of fresh air for Grant.’ The G-force smiles had dissipated from their faces at long last, leaving weary, glazed eyes and hot chocolate moustaches.
“I’ve just called Dave, he’s going to come and pick us up in an hour and take us back.”
Our friends Dave and Julie could always be counted on in an emergency. We would do the same for them too. We just hadn’t ever had the opportunity to help them out as they were blessed with good fortune in every conceivable way, unlike us.
“Oh good, were they surprised?”
“No, I text Dave earlier today to tell them you was in hospital, they said they hope you get well soon.”
It suddenly dawned on me that I hadn’t thought of anyone else and whether anybody knew about my predicament.
“Do Mum and Dad know?”
Grant raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth in surprise.
“You haven’t told them, have you?” I questioned as he smiled warmly.
“Yes I have. Your mum has been on the phone all bloody day, I’ve hardly had any sleep!” he said, holding my hand in his.
“Oh dear, has she?”
“Hmm,” he replied. “Your dad is worrying that you won’t be able to make it on Tuesday.”