Counting Sunsets

by Paul Gait

  The following morning, having had a leisurely full English breakfast, he moved on to the ancient market town of Stow on the Wold set on top of a hill aside of the ancient major arterial Roman road called the ‘Fosse Way’; then on to Chipping Norton, boasting of being at the heart of an area of outstanding natural beauty; His tour included the north Cotswold principal market town of Moreton in the Marsh, home of many celebrities; it’s High Street still populated by Eighteenth Century Inns; His itinerary included the old wool merchants town of Chipping Campden with it’s 400 year old annual Dover’s Hill Olympick games, a must on any Cotswold tour and then on to Broadway with its large and impressive folly tower sitting on the edge of the escarpment skyline, a prominent feature, watching over the village.

  On the second night of his tour, he had decided to stay at the ancient 16th Century Paragon Arms Hotel at Broadway; however, by the time he booked in he was completely exhausted by his over ambitious schedule. The nostalgic overindulgence visiting so many beautiful villages had taken its toll on his frail body.

  He had decided to forgo the visit to the restaurant and made his way to the wonderfully ancient bedroom, tastefully decorated in an appropriate period style.

  He slowly undressed and lay down on the ancient four poster bed, the painkillers he had been taking all day to keep him going, quickly sending him off into a deep sleep.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Tuesday September 16th – Sunset count 16

  ‘Geoffery, Geoffery. Can you hear me Geoffery?’

  It was the Dark Angel. He had caught up with him. He could feel the fierce claws on his shoulder shaking him.

  ‘Geoffery, Geoffery,’ the voice continued, insistently.

  ‘If I keep still, keep my eyes closed, he’ll think I’m already dead and he’ll go away,’ thought Geoffery irrationally.

  But the pressure on his shoulder continued and he could feel the hot breath on his cheek. The voice was hypnotic, demanding, and persuasive. He fought the voice filling his mind, frightened by the prospect of staring into the face of evil.

  But as hard as he tried, his eyelids fluttered. He had lost. He was going to have to open his eyes.

  ‘That’s it, just open your eyes for me.’ The voice became softer, coaxing.

  He had given in to the sirens call. The Dark Angel was going to win, was going to pluck out his eyes, steal his soul.

  ‘Geoffery, can you hear me? My name is Robert. I’m a paramedic. Don’t worry. It looks like you’ve had a bit of a deep sleep, that’s all. It’s nothing to worry about.’

  A face swam into Geoffery’s vision. Its eyes were not red and piercing as he expected. It was not the face of the Dark Angel.

  ‘What, where am I?’ Geoffery croaked, his mouth dry.

  ‘You’re in your bedroom at the Paragon Arms. Can you remember?’

  ‘Paragon Arms?’ Geoffery repeated slowly, his mind trying to make sense of the words.

  ‘Looks like you needed to catch up on a bit of sleep. Are you on any medication at the moment?’

  ‘Medication! Medication?’ Geoffery fought the mist in his mind. ‘Yes, um over there, in my jacket,’ he whispered.

  As Geoffery’s level of consciousness improved he could see that there were two green uniformed people in the room. Behind them a concerned looking man in a suit whom he recognized as the receptionist who had booked him in the previous evening, alongside him a pale faced woman chewing her finger nails.

  The man calling himself Robert was sitting on the bed, his hand warm on Geoffery’s thin wrist as he measured his pulse. The other green uniform dug into Geoffery’s jacket pocket.

  ‘I’m on painkillers. I have bone cancer’ Geoffery volunteered. ‘I have a place reserved at Dorothy and Tom’s hospice in Hampton Leck. I was hoping not to have to use it just yet.’

  ‘OK, no problem,’ said Robert casually as if he had this sort of conversation every day.’

  ‘Well you gave the maid quite a shock,’ said the other Green uniform studying the label on the bottle that he’d retrieved from Geoffery’s pocket.

  ‘How do you feel now Geoffery?’ Robert asked, looking deep into Geoffery’s eyes.

  ‘Not sure at the moment,’ Geoffery replied trying to summon his thoughts.

  ‘OK, we’ll give you a couple of minutes to catch your breath,’ Robert said joining his companion.

  The two Paramedics went into a discussion while Geoffery came to terms with this set back in his plans. He had hoped to spend at least a week sightseeing before going into the hospice.

  ‘OK Geoffery, here are the options,’ Robert explained. ‘We either take you to our hospital in Evesham or we help you make arrangements to go straight to the hospice.’

  ‘My car is…’

  ‘I don’t think it would be wise for you to drive there,’ Robert replied quickly.

  ‘Your car will be perfectly safe here until you can arrange to have it collected.’ volunteered a very relieved Receptionist.

  ‘My recommendation would be to go straight to Dorothy and Tom. They’ll be able to give you everything you need to help you.’

  ‘Yes, you’re probably right,’ agreed Geoffery. ‘I think I over did it a bit, I probably just need some rest, that’s all.’

  ‘OK, so how do we get you there is the next challenge?’ The other Green uniform said.

  ‘Why can’t you?’ Geoffery said puzzled.

  ‘We wouldn’t be able to take you because we’re a fast response unit. You’d have to wait for control to do some jiggling of available patient ambulances,’ added Robert.

  ‘But that’s crazy,’ Geoffery exploded. ‘Surely, as you’re here…’

  ‘Sorry, our hands are tied.’

  ‘I’ve read about the chaos in the National Health Service but always thought this was just media hype.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Robert, ‘but the rules are the rules. Your alternative is a taxi or private ambulance.’

  ‘Yeah, there is no shortage of those Private Ambulances around here these days. The NHS supplements the normal fleet with them very often,’ the other Paramedic said bitterly.

  ‘And their crews are better paid too.’ Robert added. ‘It costs the NHS a fortune, but it comes from a different budget,’ he added cynically. ‘So they tell us it doesn’t count.’

  ‘But it’s all NHS money at the end of the day,’ the other exclaimed.

  ‘I’ve no problems paying for one. It’s just that I’m disappointed that the UK has come to this. It’s not the marvellous, free for all, National Health system that I used to boast about in Monaco,’ said Geoffery disillusioned.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Wednesday September 17th – Sunset count 17

  The private ambulance passed Nurse Andy Spider as it drove up the long tree lined driveway through the beautifully manicured hospice grounds.

  Andy saw it arrive, but his thoughts were elsewhere as he made his way to prepare the room for its new occupant.

  He’d had an emotional morning attending yet another funeral of one of his patients. Although only 37, Andy had already seen a lot of people go through the hospice and he had built up a coping mechanism to help him deal with the emotion of losing a patient. The bereaved family had been very grateful for his professional ‘friendship’ during their period of involvement with the hospice. Sound bites of their gratitude played in his mind.

  ‘Thank you for making his last few days so peaceful and dignified,’ the man’s widow had told him sincerely.

  ‘We’re all so grateful for you looking after Mum as well as Dad during his last few days,’ the deceased man’s son had said.

  ‘I don’t know where you get your strength from to do this job,’ his daughter had said through her tears. ‘You deserve a medal. You’ve obviously got a heaven sent gift.’

  ‘Heaven sent! Perhaps she was right,’ he thought. For it was the indifferent treatment that his dear Mother had received, during her last few days in hospital, that had set him on the course to be a nur
se. He remembered how gracious she had been, in spite of the severe pain she was suffering. She stopped the family ‘bothering’ the nurses to give her pain relief because, they were busy dealing with others, who, she said, needed them more than her. He had so desperately wanted to help her, to stop her pain; ‘Mum, what can I do to help you?’ he had pleaded, holding her painfully thin hand.

  ‘Son, she said, ’there are some things you can’t change – but just remember, YOU CAN change some things.’ At the time, he didn’t understand what she meant. But when he started nursing the ‘penny dropped’ – he couldn’t stop people dying from incurable diseases but he could give them compassion and dignity in their final days. He had used this adage to ‘add value’ to his nursing throughout his career.

  He was only ten when she died but he knew then where his future lay. He had joined St John Ambulance and he had been nursing since leaving school. The most rewarding period of his nursing career, he felt, had been during the last ten years working at the hospice.

  Andy enjoyed his job there. He was a people person. He had a great bedside manner which enabled him to deal in a detached but sympathetic manner with patients who, in their last days, needed special care. Family and friends also received sensitive understanding during the course of their relatives stay.

  As a counter to the sometimes draining emotions of his work he threw all his energies into his young family and a Scout Troop that he ran in a deprived area of Gloucester. It was thinking about the programme for the Scouts future meetings that replaced his thoughts about the morning’s funeral.

  He was finishing his meticulous sterilisation work in the room when the door opened and a procession of people entered.

  A woman dressed in a smart business suit led the way followed by a patient in a wheelchair pushed by a paramedic from a private care company.

  ‘Hello Ann. Sorry, I think you’ve got the wrong room’. Andy said, looking at the patient in the wheelchair.

  ‘Andy this is Mr Foster,’ said Ann Place. ‘He will be your new patient’.

  ‘My new patient?’ repeated a puzzled Andy. ‘Are you sure? I was expecting somebody else.’

  ‘There’s been a change of plan. Mr Foster has had to take up his option sooner than expected. So Mr Jones won’t be coming in just yet.’

  Andy switched his gaze from Ann to Geoffery. ‘Good morning,’ He said stretching out his hand.

  Geoffery almost missed Andy’s proffered hand, as he was taking in his surroundings.

  ‘Hello,’ Geoffery said, shaking the others hand.

  ‘I’m Andy Spider, I gather I shall be your, umm, nurse for the duration of your stay,’ he said, casting a side glance at Ann.

  ‘Andy will look after you, but if there’s anything that you want, please let me know,’ she added.

  Andy was clearly perturbed at Geoffery’s arrival. ‘I wonder if I could have a word with you?’ he said and indicated to the woman that he wanted to speak to her outside.

  ‘If you’ll excuse us, I shall be back with you in a second,’ Andy said, leading Ann towards the door.

  ‘I’m on my way too’ said the private ambulance driver, side-stepping the pair.

  The woman followed Andy out, flashing a comforting smile at Geoffery as she closed the door.

  Alone in the room Geoffery took in his new surroundings.

  This was not quite the opulence he had become used to. The room was even smaller than his guest’s bathroom in his penthouse in Monaco.

  The walls were painted a light sky blue and murals of fluffy white clouds covered the entire ceiling.

  The centre of the room was dominated by a high hospital bed, it’s white tubular side panels folded down ready to corral him if necessary and prevent him falling out on to the scrubbed vinyl flooring.

  Like the bed in his penthouse, it too had an electronic panel to ripple the mattress and lift the head and feet sections.

  The clean starched white sheets were folded back ready to cocoon him, its next incumbent.

  Over the bed, a collection of medical paraphernalia festooned the wall; gauges, pipes and oxygen mask.

  Nearby, an emergency buzzer hung from the wall panel, its lead hanging like a limp snake, a bulbous pear shaped button affixed to its end.

  A lounge chair and small table sat in the corner of the room making up the rest of the furniture.

  Net curtains covered the large sash windows providing a small element of privacy into the ground floor room.

  Beyond the net he could see a well-tended garden, stocked with plants and shrubs, chalky Cotswold stones randomly positioned along the rolling banks.

  He had chosen this hospice for his palliative care because it was close to his original family home and he had a nostalgic memory of working here as a young builder after he’d left school.

  He reached into his small briefcase and pulled out the twisted and dented silver frame. ‘Here you are Nadine,’ he said to the smiling face, as he put the picture on to the bedside table, ‘this is our new home. At least for a short time anyway.’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  He decided to explore the grounds later. It would be interesting to see if the building work he had done those many years ago was still standing.

  ‘In any case,’ he thought, ‘if it’s not, the warranty is long gone.’

  ‘Strange,’ he thought,’ how his life had gone full circle. Here he was. Fate had brought him back to his roots. The cruel irony brought a smile to his thin face.

  As a young workman he felt chilled by the thought of being so close to the people who were seeing out their last few days, imagining that he could pick up their infection for dying.

  He had imagined that the patients must feel like being in the condemned cell on death row, waiting for the sands of time to run out. Perhaps he had become infected after all; for here he was, a ticket holder in God’s waiting room, with an uncertain time to wait.

  ‘So this is where it will end,’ he thought. There were no tears this time. He had finally got to grips with staring his own mortality in the face.

  He had even accepted that there would be no miracle cure.

  At least he was home and at peace with himself. No need to put on any pretences anymore. Being in familiar territory had given Geoffery an unexpected boost to his morale. Although physically tired from the accumulation of activities he had been undertaking; the farewell party, the winding up activities in Monaco, and his tiring drive through the Cotswolds, he felt surprisingly energised by his surroundings.

  Raised voices in the corridor outside broke into Geoffery’s thoughts. He strained to hear the now heated conversation.

  ‘I’m sorry but Mr Foster has taken certain commercial steps which will ensure that the ongoing funding of the hospice will be considerably eased,’ the Administrator explained finally.

  ‘Tell that to the Jones family. Their problem is today, not tomorrow. They need help now.’

  ‘I’m sorry Andy. I have to juggle many balls, and I’m afraid at the moment the Hospice has been thrown a lifeline. I’d be negligent if I let this opportunity slip away.’

  ‘So, anybody with money can leapfrog the list and buy themselves into the Hospice?’ the Nurse said angrily. ‘What about Mr Jones and his family. They had been promised that bed.’

  ‘Yes, and as soon as another bed becomes available we will bring him in,’ the Administrator replied calmly. ‘But in the meantime he will continue to receive treatment by our Hospice at Home service.’

  ‘Mrs Jones is at the end of her tether,’ Andy shouted. ‘She was hoping for the respite, I promised them!’

  ‘Then you were out of order in raising their hopes. You know how circumstances can change quickly.’

  ‘Yes, but they are desperate,’ he implored.

  ‘There’s nothing further to say on the matter.’

  The Administrator turned on her heel and headed back to her office.

  Andy took a deep breath and composed himself before re-entering the roo
m..

  ‘Apologies for leaving you. How was your journey to us this morning?’ Andy asked, trying to sound calm but was obviously still tense from the argument.

  ‘I came by Private ambulance from Broadway. But I expect you disapprove of that don’t you?’ Geoffery replied curtly.

  Andy ignored the comment, fighting to regain his usual placid bedside manner. ‘Well if you want to have a rest before I take you on a guided tour, I’ll pop back later.’

  ‘Yes, perhaps that might see us both in a better mood.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’ Andy asked puzzled.

  ‘I overheard your conversation.’

  ‘Yes. Well I’m sorry, but as you gathered, I was led to believe Mr Jones was going to be my patient, I was surprised that’s all. I can assure you that I will give you my full professional attention.’

  ‘That is in spite of my money?’

  ‘Yes, well not everybody has the means to buy their way into good health care.’

  ‘You see, I find your attitude strange. People normally bend over backwards to ingratiate themselves to me,’ Geoffery said staring at Andy.

  ‘It doesn’t mean anything to me if you’re rich or poor. As a Nurse I treat everybody the same,’ Andy said standing his ground.

  ‘Well at least that’s reassuring to hear.’

  ‘You see, I know the Jones family, and I know the trauma that they have been going through watching Mr Jones’s health deteriorate, seeing the increasing strain on the family.’

  ‘You mean he’s in the last throws. What do your brochures call it, ‘End of Life care?’

  ‘We try to avoid indelicate language, but yes it won’t be long now.’

  ‘So I guess his wife is having a hard time of it?’

  ‘Yes, it’s all too easy to forget the pain and frustration that the relatives are experiencing, while we are so focused on treating the patient.’