by Paul Kelly
“I’ve made a cuppa. I think you need it. You were marvellous.” Staff nurse Gifford removed her Theatre cap and mask as she escorted Willie into the duty room. “I nipped off when I saw you do the outer stitches yourself. I thought you wouldn’t want me to do that as it was Paul.”
Willie wanted to explain her dilemma of making sure that she was entirely responsible for anything that happened to Paul from start to finish of the operation. “I understand... no need to explain,” the nurse said, “and by the way, we used 36 artery forceps and 48 swabs... “
“Oh gawd... the swabs... the swabs... I forgot to check the bloody swabs,” Willie scratched her head with her right hand and thumped it with her left and then she laughed nervously... “Bloody swabs... how appropriate,” she said.
“You worry to much... I did it... That’s my job, remember,” Nurse Gifford reminded Willie as she poured the tea.
“I must get to the ward and see that he’s alright.”
Willie started to leave the duty room, but Nurse Gifford delayed her.
“If you don’t drink that tea now, it’ll get cold and I’ll be annoyed. The tea is my little contribution, you know... and I like to do my job thoroughly as well as you.”
Willie relaxed and sat down again to drink her tea.
“Thanks for being there Nurse. I’m glad you were, but how did you manage to make the swap?”
Gifford grinned as she stirred two large tea-spoonfuls of sugar into her tea and made the excuse that she needed that for energy...
“Yours was the most interesting. Poor old Ford... She copped a laparotomy... two I think... and a nice juicy haemorrhoid as an encore... Poor cow!”
***
Paul was lying on his back, bandaged like an Egyptian mummy when Willie got to the ward. She checked the bandage behind the ears and sighed with relief when she discovered that there was no sign of haemorrhaging. She was pleased as she glanced at her watch. That was a good sign as the sutures would have been in for over an hour. His breathing was light but regular as also was his pulse and temperature. She sat down by the bedside and looked at what she could see of his face under the bandaging and her heart ached. She was looking again at the scene in the hospital after that car accident which had been the cause of all this trouble. She remembered how she had thought he might not have survived that last time as she took his cold hand and held it in her own, rubbing it gently to stimulate some heat again. His long, strong, sinewy fingers twitched nervously as if to say thanks to her for all she had done for him, but his eyes remained sunken, with dark circles underneath. Somehow she felt sure he was restful and at peace, by his demeanour as he lay there in his comatose state... and she reflected again on how he was when they first were married... How could she ever have doubted this man’s love for her?
Her eyes filled with tears again and as she blinked, a tear fell down her face and rested on his hand, where she had placed it against her cheek. She was full of remorse...
She kept looking at his face, hoping ludicrously that at any moment he would wake up and recognize her, even though she knew he would be sedated for some considerable time... His face was gentle and without strain and his satin, soft skin seemed to permeate a quality of dignity that she not seen for several years and she wondered if, when he did recover consciousness, would he respond to her as she wanted him to... or would he continue as before, staring into space and dribbling at the mouth... and would he be free from pain now that she had cut the poison from his brain? It just seemed too much to hope for that he would wake up to see her as he used to... to look at her with love and to forget all the anxiety and suffering that she had inflicted upon him.
***
Three days passed... a week and then a month passed and Paul got steadily better. There was a lot of physiotherapy both in heat and in water treatment, but he was responding well and was already able to sit up and take notice of everything that went on around him. Willie lived in a different world. She spent hours at his bedside every day... often with interrupted visits because of her work. He would smile and her world was full of light and by some strange quirk of fate, he remembered only the good things of the life they once shared together and if he did remember anything else, he hid it well. He found some difficulty in pronouncing his words, but he was patient. It was like a game to him and he would laugh, like a child learning the alphabet for the first time and giggle when he made mistakes on his vowels and made sounds that didn’t portray what he meant. Some even sounded rude and he would laugh all the more. Life was beginning to be a great adventure for Paul Fehrenbach and Willie tried to drown her super-ego, so that she could laugh with him... and love him as he deserved to be loved.
***
After three months and many trying sessions of physiotherapy, Willie decided it was time for Paul to have a holiday. It would have been ideal for them to have gone abroad... somewhere where the sun was constantly shining... Spain or Greece... but she was afraid that however they travelled, either by sea or by air, the journey might overtax him and undo the good that he acquired in his rapid progress, to date. She thought long and hard about this and eventually considered that the best place for him to have a complete rest, without much travelling, would be their holiday retreat near Bideford in Devon.
She had never been able to use this holiday hide-away since Paul’s accident, except for a very rare occasional week-end when she had some absorbing studies in connection with exams. The only black spot in that area and the one which she hated and had made her think several times of putting the place up for sale, was the lane where her car had come off the road, five years before. Would it be taking a risk for him to return there... she wondered?
She began to reflect on how peculiar it was that in all the time since his accident and illness, she had never thought to bring Paul with her on those week-ends. There was always the excuse that he wasn’t well enough or that she wouldn’t be able to look after him properly if she was studying. She never once gave him the opportunity to see if the fresh country air of Devon might benefit him... regardless that he couldn’t speak... He could smile when he was pleased and frown when he was sad... so what was she thinking about?
But her major excuse and perhaps the grand daddy of them all was how the memory of the crash might affect him... She felt that it certainly would do him no good at all and might even make him worse...
What an egoist she was... Did she ever stop to consider Paul for a moment? Was her life so important that he didn’t matter to her anymore? She asked herself... but she had no answers... and she hoped they would put all that part of their lives behind them as she drove away from London one beautiful morning in July, with the sun streaming in through the car windows, glistening across the dash board and giving music to her wheels as they travelled. She tried to keep a conversation going with Paul... One that would stimulate him, but not make him too tired... but it wasn’t long until he was fast asleep. She turned the car heater off and came to a halt, jumping out and getting round to the passenger seat to lower it, as it appeared that he was perched rather uncomfortably, with his head falling to one side. He slid down slowly, opening his eyes as she accidentally touched his shoulder with her manipulations. He smiled... and the love that she thought she had lost so long ago, returned to her. His chin was firm now and his head erect as she kissed him tenderly, pressing her lips gently to his and he responded.
“I love you, my darling,” she said as she stroked his hair and played with his ear. He did not answer in words... but his eyes told her all she wanted to know.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Some more scribbling
Ted... You’re probably wondering what on Earth I’m doing with my scribbling pad when I’m supposed to be on holiday and relaxing... Well, I am enjoying the holiday as I am so happy with everything at the moment. Life is sweet again and all the dark clouds have disappeared from my skies. I w
ant to shout and tell the world about it... Paul is improving more every day and would you believe it... we go swimming together and he does a lot of sunbathing, which is what he badly needs. His body has been too long encased in white sheets without any air and it is so wonderful to see him gradually getting his tan back... There was a lot of surfing when we went to Baracoombe the other day, which delighted him, but of course, that’s too far advanced for him as yet, but it’s wonderful to see the interest and enthusiasm and the zest for live return to his face. This is Paul as I know him and want him... the old Paul... the man I married and the man I love...
Now Ted... down to the real scribbling and I know you will forgive my burst of enthusiastic energy with the last paragraph.
Whilst we have been down here, we’ve had time to do a lot of talking... and I know you’ll smile when you think of Paul talking with his fingers, but his speech has actually improved and he can say many words and makes some interesting sounds... some funny ones too, but another time for that... Sometimes I can anticipate what he is thinking as he is actually trying to form the words in his mouth and at other times he surprises me by actually saying what he wants. He’s slow of course, but we all have to crawl before we can walk, don’t we? At one stage, I felt like a new mother when Paul leaned across to where I was sitting and reading some stupid love story from a woman’s magazine... and he whispered into my ear. It tickled for a moment and I laughed, but he did it again... and it sounded like a baby calling ‘Mamma’ for the first time. It tickled again and we laughed together... and I was obliged to forsake my love story... Oh Ted, what have I been doing all these years to have missed this. I love him so much, it hurts. He is eating well and there seems to be nothing he doesn’t like, but his favourite is the same as it was before the accident... He loves steak... a nice piece of sirloin, well done... but not cremated, with French fries and lots of salad, but definitely no mushrooms, he insists with a wrinkled nose and tightly closed eyes. I tell him he’ll get as fat as a turkey-cock for Christmas but he just laughs all the more. Wherever was I when I should have found this life before?
I feel like someone who has just come down from the hills, where I’ve been incarcerated in some old dark and damp cave... and walking out at last into the sunshine... I’ve told Paul about my visits to you Ted and about the talks we’ve had and the scribbling we’ve shared, but I don’t think he quite understand why I need to go to a psychiatrist... Isn’t he just lovely? He is so much above all that crap that filled my stupid life when I shut him out and I am amazed at the simplicity and virtue of his thoughts. I don’t talk down to him any more.
I’m careful not to do that and try to sit near him on the same level whenever we do have a conversation. and even then, I’ve taken to listening more than talking... and you can believe that if you like... But it’s true... Sometimes his words get mixed up and he tends to gabble on a bit with great excitement, but I remember how it was when he couldn’t say a word and I’m sure he’s just excited at being able to talk... to say anything and the rush of words get mixed up, He will stop, take a deep breath, laugh and start again... and I listen. I look at his beautiful eyes and I understand every word..
The drive back from Baracoombe in the early evening was delightful with a gorgeous red, still sky, just brushed here and there with a streak of orange and lemon and the gentlest of winds caressed our faces, making our skin tingle from the heat of the day’s sun and with the smell of Amber Solaire in our nostrils. We stopped at a little village pub for a beer. Wonderful, cool stuff and what a refresher...
I wanted Paul to try his hand at the wheel and he did... but only when the car was parked in the pub forecourt... and I had the keys safely tucked away in my bag... Everything is delightful Ted and I can’t tell you how happy I am. Paul is nearly whole again and I look at him and love him and know that he is mine... all mine... What more can I want now? I am learning to live in truth again without all the trappings of my past life, the femininity that gave me so much power and pleasure... and arrogance too, I might add. They are all sunk into the damp, pure sand that surrounds me here... together with all my other shackles. I see scattered sea shells and I imagine some spirit had dumped all my evil ways into them... and then the sea comes along to wash them all clean again... Fashion is unimportant any more and make-up is for little girls, who want to grow up overnight, with mummy’s shoes that are four time too big. I want to be real again... I want to be ME and not a harlot. The only thing I hold onto now. My only vanity, if you like, is my Coco Channel, because Paul always loved me wearing that and I still watch his eyes go all unnecessary, when I spray some behind my ears and drop a little on his wrist for him to keep all day.
And now my hopes are high... searching the skies for freedom... I am hoping that Paul may one day... and soon... learn to write something for the Medical Journal... after all he has much to write about now from his own intense experiences of being so near to death and he can still stab at the typewriter. What do you think?
This epistle sounds more like a letter than a scribbling. Perhaps I am coming out of the woods at last and maybe I’ve joined the human race again, who knows... See you when I get back.
P.S. Paul’s hair is growing thickly again, but I can see a sprout or two of grey coming through. It makes him look quite distinguished.
***
Willie and Paul did have a wonderful holiday in Devon. They went everywhere together and their world was complete in each other’s company. They took long car rides into the surrounding country and long walks around the garden of their retreat where Paul used a walking stick and could cover something like fifty yards, before he felt he had to sit down... but what an achievement after having been nearly five years confined to bed or to a wheelchair.
Willie wrote of his progress to Professor Wexinford and thanked him for suggesting the operational need when he did, but she still felt it was a gamble she had taken and committed her most intimate thoughts to him in a letter. She wrote to him one afternoon when Paul was asleep.
“At one point, after I had opened the cranium and was about to dissolve the clot, I had serious doubts that I could possibly do anything constructive to help Paul and my strength seemed to leave me. It was as though the blood was drained from my own body and I could feel the strength go with it... I weighed the balance of what to do as my husband’s life was hanging on a single thread and it was the most terrifying moment of my life. In the end, of course, I had to do it... I had to do it by divorcing myself from the patient on the table...”
Willie omitted to say that there were other thoughts at that time that were so diverse but she referred to her ‘other thoughts’ in this way... describing them as those that should never have accompanied a surgeon to the operating table. Intimate thoughts, contrary to the Hippocratic oath that she had taken when she qualified as a doctor... She never told him of her doubts where she wondered if she should allow Paul to die and therefore be free to live her own life as she chose to live it, without let or hindrance... and she never told him how she hated herself for thinking as she did... for hating herself for wanting to save him as much as for wanting him dead... and afraid of the consequences in whatever happened...
But she did tell Ted Sutherland that she was glad she had acted as she had done and taken Professor Wexinford’s advice because she believed in the end, that love had guided her hand in those dreadful moments of indecision.
I love Paul as I never could have imagined I would do... and all my selfishness is dissolving into his being, so that he can come back to me with that simplicity and purity that will recreate us both. She ended her letter.
***
She spent the rest of the holiday trying to please Paul in everything she did, without making him feel utterly dependent on her. She read to him at night before they retired to bed and she gave him the opportunity to read a little passage to her, which only made for more laughter, but it made him ha
ppy and that was everything to Willie.
They made plans to sell the house when they returned to London and buy a smaller one, not too far outside London, so that she could still work at the hospital, but cut her hours to suit their requirements and not vice-versa as it had always been before.
They would get a dog... a large dog, maybe a spaniel and it would be nice if Danny and Seyone could come and live near them. They had all become such good friends and she felt she owed them both so much... and maybe they could have some chickens... She would ask Paul what he thought of that... but it was only an afterthought.
Life was so full of important plans to be made. There were so many things to do and to do them together and this was to be the biggest joy and thrill of Wilhelmina Fehrenbach’s life.
***
It was on the third day before they were due back in London and the weather was magnificent. Willie prepared a light salad lunch and they ate it on the lawn under a multi-coloured canopy just at the front of the house. She studied his face again when she knew he wasn’t looking at her... when the afternoon sun had claimed him into her sleepy bosom.
His hair certainly had grown and she would soon need to consider having it cut, she thought and then she began to think again... He would have to consider getting it cut... Not she... She had walked away from that role now... where she decided what was best for both of them and now she decided to start again with the small things and give Paul a freedom of choice. She watched his face and saw that it had filled out to remove the sunken holes under his olive eyes and when she could see him eating... by himself, she wanted to shout about it and tell everyone... What a fool she was... What a bloody fool to pay such inordinate importance to so many small and mundane things... but they were no longer small or mundane to her... They were milestones... and yet it was love that made her that way. Made her see a value in everything around her, where before, she wouldn’t have noticed half of what she could see now... and would have taken them for granted. She closed her eyes to hold the scene and never wanted to lose it. After lunch they would lie on their hammocks, holding hands and squinting at the sun, until she would bring the canopy over nearer to protect him. It sheltered Paul and she still took the full force of the sun rays, but she didn’t mind. There was no way that she was going to move away from him... The sun could go down first... Sometimes they didn’t talk at all... only the peace of their united souls sang a love song that they alone could hear... and the air was full of magic.