by S G Read
‘He'll need stitches Stephen! You watch him while I phone his mum.’ She ordered.
Stuart's mother was there in less than five minutes.
‘I'm sorry to call you but I think he needs some stitches in his arm!’ Pat said apologetically.
‘Thanks for calling Pat. I have tried to get doctor Sapil but he's not available his service advised me to take Stuart direct to hospital.’
Stuart stirred.
‘Welcome back Stuart.’ Wendy said with a hint of relief.
‘What happened?’ Stuart asked still in a daze.
‘You totalled our coffee table!’ Stephen replied.
‘Sorry.’
‘You be quiet Stephen Brown!’ His mother scolded. ‘It was hardly Stuart's fault and I didn't like that table anyway!’
Faced with the prospect of helping his mother to clear up the shattered glass, Stephen elected to go with Stuart to the hospital. While Stuart was having four stitches in his arm Stephen kept an eye out for the man he had bumped into, the one with the whisky bottle in his pocket! He was glad to see that it was not the doctor, who stitched the wound. An anti tetanus injection followed, which annoyed Stuart, as he had already had numerous injections before their fated trip.
Soon they were back home playing on the computer in Stuart's bedroom. Stephen had seen no sign of the man who had smelt of whisky at the hospital and assumed that, although he had worn a white coat, he must have been a visitor like them. When he was not taking his turn his eyes wandered round the room. On the shelf at the end of Stuart's bed stood the survival book, with its bullet hole right through the middle, plain to see.
‘I see you've found a good place for your trophy Stu.’ He said when he saw it.
Stuart finished his go before he answered.
‘Yes it looks neat doesn't it? Did you find something to bring home as a trophy?’
‘Yes.’ Stephen replied while he was having his go and Stuart waited for him to say more.
‘Well what was it!’ Stuart said patience not being one of his stronger qualities.
‘Guess.’
‘No just tell me!’
‘Guess. I'll tell you when you're warm!’
‘A helicopter!’ It was Stuart's way of saying that he did not want to do this but Stephen answered as though it was a possibility.
‘Cold!’
‘An oozy?’
‘Warm, very warm!’
Stuart stopped to think.
‘A bit of an oozy?’
‘Still very warm but it's not actually part of the gun!’
‘A bullet? You didn't bring a bullet back did you Stevey?’
‘Red hot now.’
‘More than one?’
‘Yes a clip. I accidentally forgot to hand it over when we put our guns on the reception desk!’
‘I bet!’ Stuart said derisively.
‘You know me. If I knew it was in my pocket, I'd have gone as red as a lobster wouldn't I?’
‘I suppose you would of, you never could be really sneaky, without blushing!’
John Sykes sat on his stool in the hospital laboratory, he was running blood tests. He had already done several, the next one he picked up was marked Stuart Sellars. As he held the sample in his left hand and wrote Stuart's initials on the top right hand corner of test sheet, an agonising pain shot through his body. He staggered to one side, dropping the sample as he went, as he staggered back he knocked the stool over and it landed on the sample. John opened a drawer, pulled out a half full bottle of whisky and took a long drink, followed by another long drink. When the pain had subsided, he picked up the stool and tried in vain to rescue the contents of the sample bottle.
‘Damn!’ He said before sweeping up the glass and wiping up the spilt blood. He opened the same drawer and used a breath freshener, before popping a mint into his mouth.
He looked at the sheet in front of him with just the initials on it and scratched his head.
CHAPTER 10
In the days that followed Wendy phoned the hospital many times to chase up the results of his blood test but was met by a lack of knowledge about them by everyone she spoke to. Stuart's collapse and subsequent breaking of the coffee table had shaken her. Now she saw to it that someone was with Stuart all the time. He was banned from the tree house in case he fell, which caused him to complain bitterly but both his parents were adamant. Wendy's persistence finally paid off, a letter arrived advising them that further tests were necessary and that a bed was available for him on the following Monday. As he was not having an operation it was not necessary for him to go in Sunday evening as was the usual practice.
‘They want Stuart to come in overnight so they can run some more tests.’ Wendy announced.
‘If they can stop him breaking coffee tables with his head when he faints then I'm all for it!’ David replied.
‘They are blackouts dad! Only girls faint!’ Stuart admonished.
‘Sorry Stu. If it will stop him having these blackouts then I'm all for it!’ David corrected. ‘In fact I'll take Monday off and come in with you.’
Stuart smiled.
‘That's nice.’ He said happily. ‘Or are you just making sure I actually go?’
‘A little bit of both, I know how you twist your mother round your little finger!’
‘Are you sure it's me you're talking about!’ Wendy asked.
‘Two of us will have a better chance of getting him there.’ David replied, avoiding the question.
‘I suppose Stevey will be at school?’ Stuart said glumly. ‘Still I could phone him!’
He did not wait for a reply, he ran into the hall to where the telephone sat.
‘Don't run!’ Wendy scolded but by then he was dialling Stephen's number.
On Monday morning the three of them arrived at the front doors of the hospital. The doors opened smoothly and Stuart led the way to the lift.
‘I can see what you mean about the design of the place.’ David commented, remembering Stuart's complaints, when he returned from his first visit.
‘It's crazy!’ Stuart complained when they reached the lift door. ‘The lift should be by the front door. What if there's a fire? They've even put the stairs here too!’
They travelled up one floor and emerged from the lift. Stuart studied the signs that told them what wards were on that floor and pointed as well. Opposite from the lift were the stairs, to the right of the stairs the corridor which passed by the stairs, going into the middle of the hospital on that floor, was marked- KIMBERLY WARD.
‘It's up that corridor.’ Stuart announced, it's still not too late to save me from a fate worse than death.’
‘We can't afford the coffee tables.’ David joked.
‘Skinflint.’ Stuart retorted and was picked up bodily by his father, something that had been rare before he had been lost in the jungle. Stuart was annoyed when his mother stopped him.
‘David this is a hospital!’ She censured.
The corridor turned sharp left in front of them. On Stuart's left he saw a window and looked in. The window was curtained but they were not drawn and the room, which contained two beds, was empty. They followed the corridor left and Stuart saw the door to the room he had just looked in, to his left. The corridor then turned right in front of the door and led to a small ward containing ten beds, five one side and five opposite them.
‘That was like a route march!’ Stuart complained.
‘Well we're here now!’ His mother replied. ‘So let us be polite!’
‘I am always polite mater.’ Stuart said as though he had a plum in his mouth.
‘Let us just make sure we are.’ His mother replied in the same manner.
They arrived at a desk at the start of the small ward; two nurses stood there talking.
Wendy handed them the letter from the hospital.
‘Stuart Sellars.’ She added before they could read it.
One of the nurses read the letter, before replying.
‘Oh yes, it
's our little jungle adventurer!’ She spoke in a deep Irish accent with no malice at all.
Stuart smiled, he liked her already!
‘Come on I will show you to your bed!’ She led them to the room which they had just passed and pointed to the bed to the right of the door.
The pillows were farthest from the door they had just come in and next to that end of the bed was another door.
‘This will be the bed that you will use while you are with us; the bathroom is through that door.’ She pointed to the door by the bed. ‘If you get yourself settled in, the consultant will be with you as soon as he finishes in the theatre.’
When she had gone Stuart turned to his father.
‘How come I am not in the other ward?’ He asked accusingly, thinking his father had arranged for him to have a room of his own.
‘It's the firm’s medical insurance, the whole family is covered. Mr Sedgewick was insistent that we used it; as it is paid for!’ David explained.
‘You mean that I am stuck up here while everyone else is down there! This is going to be fun!’ Stuart complained.
‘There's nothing to stop you from going down there to say hello, is there now!’ Wendy replied diplomatically.
Stuart sat on the bed while his mother unpacked his clothes.
‘I suppose it's good really. I can go and talk to the others, then I get to sleep where I can't hear them snoring!’ He declared remembering his time in the jungle with the other boys.
‘Why do you think they'll snore?’ David asked.
‘You forget dad, I have just spent two months in the jungle with the rest of my team! I know who snores and how they sound, who talks in their sleep and what about. I also know how to shut them up!’
His father laughed, then on a more serious note he said.
‘We have never really talked about your time in the jungle, not really talked.’ He said. ‘We will have to sit down and talk about it when we can make the time.’
‘Now that IS a good idea.’ Wendy said stressing the 'is'. ‘In fact we could start now, as we seem to be at a loose end, I want to hear all about it!’
The door opened and the nurse who had been with the nurse with the Irish accent appeared. She was a large woman, older than the Irish nurse, with shortish curly hair, which had a lot of grey in it. The badge on her uniform read 'BRENDA TELLER'. She was the nurse who looked after the ward at night, when Carol, the Irish nurse came in they worked together to make their patients ready for the day to come. Stuart noted her name and her size. He immediately nicknamed her Big Brenda and made a mental note of it.
‘Good morning Stuart. I am just going to take your blood pressure and your temperature.’ She said in a firm but friendly manner.
-I wouldn't argue with you, whatever you wanted to do!- Stuart's thought and it caused him to smile.
‘It doesn't worry you then?’ She asked, when she saw the smile.
‘No this doesn't hurt, I might have legged it if you wanted some blood!’ Stuart replied, resisting the urge to mention her size.
Brenda did not answer but smiled knowingly, that was on the list as well, in fact the tests they had scheduled for him was quite exhaustive. In the old hospital Stuart would have spent a lot of his day going from building to building for each test, she reflected, at least now it was all under one roof. The only bad thing, was the staff cuts that had followed. Brenda was brought back to awareness by Stuart tapping her on the arm.
‘Is that staying on as a tourniquet?’ He asked trying not to break the thermometer in his mouth.
‘Sorry I was just thinking about the old hospital, before they built this one.’ She said and noted down on the blank chart his blood pressure, then took the thermometer out of his mouth and marked the temperature down as well.
Stuart looked at the chart; there were three dots on it.
‘Does it make a picture when you join the dots up?’ Stuart asked.
Brenda was tired after working all night but still answered as if she was fresh as a daisy.
‘If it makes the right picture, you get to go home!’ She answered, trying to sound anything but unfriendly.
When she returned to take a blood sample, she had shrugged of the tiredness.
‘Get ready to run!’ She warned, holding up the sample bottle, assuming Stuart would recognise it.
Stuart's face fell and he rolled up his sleeve.
‘I won't have any left at this rate!’ He grumbled.
It was an hour before the consultant arrived. He introduced himself as Mr Follet and after a few minutes of nothing but pleasantries, he listed the tests which they were going to subject Stuart to, then left. The rest of the day was either spent hurrying from one room to the next or sitting in the room waiting. Stuart did not venture into the ward. The nurse had explained to him that there was a dayroom with a bigger television at the end of the ward, as she passed his room on her way home, although there was a television at the end of his bed. She thought that he might be glad of the company.
It was six o'clock before Stephen arrived. Stuart's parents chose then to go out for a meal leaving the two boys alone.
‘A room to yourself then?’ Stephen asked, looking at the empty bed by the side window.
‘Yes and my own telly, although I can go down to the dayroom at the end of the ward if I want to.’ Stuart explained.
‘What's it like down there?’
‘I don't know I haven't been down there!’
‘Why not?’ Stephen asked.
‘I was waiting for you to come in, weren't I?’
‘Come on then let's go!’ Stephen declared.
Stephen took hold of Stuart's arm and started to drag him down the corridor.
Stuart wrestled his arm free.
‘I can walk! I'm not a cripple!’ He declared.
They walked passed the desk with the Irish nurse sitting at it. She was talking on the phone. The beds were all full except one but none of the children in the beds, young or old, seemed to be awake. The day room was at the end of the ward, a large room with the door in the middle. The television was on the left hand side of the room and there were two large tables to the right. Next to the tables were a box of toys and another box which he could not see what it contained. There were very little actual walls in the day room it was mostly windows to give a view of the grounds outside.
‘Wow! That telly makes the one in my room look a bit silly!’ Stuart cried, when he saw how big the television was.
Sitting in front of the television was a girl; she was obviously the occupant of the empty bed.
‘I suppose you want to have this television taken into your room and let us have the one from in there!’ The girl said rudely.
‘All I said was that it was bigger than the one in my room!’ Stuart answered defensively.
‘You're in that private room, aren't you?’ She said accusingly.
‘So?’ Stuart asked.
‘Hi, I'm Stevey.’ Stephen said realizing things were not going well.
‘I suppose you come from a palace or something?’ The girl continued.
‘No, I live in a block of council flats!’ Stephen replied honestly.
‘I meant him!’ The girl said with a wave of her hand at Stuart.
‘No, not really. He caught something in the jungle.’ Stephen answered not letting Stuart speak.
‘Some of us can't afford holidays, let alone in the jungle!’ The girl replied.
‘Some holiday!’ Stuart complained, managing to speak. ‘Our plane crashed and we were stuck in the Colombian jungle!’
‘Don't lie! You're just a spoilt little rich kid who's got the sniffles!’ She retorted; then thrust herself out of the chair she was sitting in and walked off into the ward.
Stuart was almost speechless.
‘Spoilt little rich kid!’ He echoed in disgust then he looked at Stephen. ‘Am I?’
‘No way, not that rich anyway!’ Stephen answered cleverly.
‘Are you saying I'
m spoilt? How can you say that I'm spoilt?’
‘I didn't, she did!’ Stephen answered pointing at the retreating girl.
‘Now you know why I didn't come down here earlier.’ Stuart declared and started to walk back to his room. ‘The natives aren't always friendly.’
This he said loud enough for the girl to hear. Even though she had the radio earphones on, she stuck her tongue out and Stuart replied with the same insult.
‘You certainly know how to make friends!’ Stephen commented.
Back in Stuart's room, Stuart rummaged in his bag and found several packs of cards. They spent the time before Stuart's parents returned, working their way through the packs. When Stuart's parents returned they started playing with the conventional pack of cards. The card games continued until it was time for everyone to go, except Stuart for that is.
‘I will be here in the morning for the next round of tests; we might hear some results of today’s tests.’ Wendy said and kissed him goodnight on both cheeks.
‘And I will see you after work tomorrow.’ His father announced. ‘So be a good boy until I get here!’
‘Yes dad.’
For once Stuart was happy, even though he had to stay in hospital overnight. Since his return from the jungle, his parents had been different people. Now they tried to do things as a family and Stuart had to admit that his habit of blacking out, was becoming not only painful but embarrassing as well! If they could cure him, it would be good and a great saving in coffee tables. When Stuart's mother turned to wave from the door, there were tears in her eyes. She walked back and hugged him before kissing him again.
‘Goodnight darling, I will see you in the morning.’ She would rather have taken him home with her.
‘Come on woman.’ David said insistently and steered her through the open door.