The Story so far:
http://alan-turtle.blogspot.co.uk/2013/02/a-little-glimmer-of-hope.html
Drifting off into a world of beautiful memories had become
the norm for the past few weeks I had been there, I really didn’t expect to see
anything of the home that my lovely wife and I had made our very own, a piece
of heaven in a paradise of tranquillity set in the New Forest was a dream come
true to both of us, but there was a peaceful acceptance in my days and
especially nights that I had had my time, the care of everyone around me in
that hospital made me, and everyone in that ward, feel special, they couldn’t
do enough to make us comfortable. They were true angels, just sitting there
sometimes, holding your hand until you drifted off into your dreams.
That night was no exception I remember, a pretty young
nurse sitting by my bedside looked up from her book and smiled, lightly patted
my hand and at the same time I could see her reading the monitors beeping away
above my head, it wasn’t long before the whole episode with the policemen was
left behind, as my eyes closed the faint smell of roses from my garden at home
took over from the antiseptic smell of the hospital ward.
The following morning I woke to see the rain streaming
down the windows outside, and that same young nurse standing by my bed with a
welcome cup of tea in her hand for me. The past four weeks this same young
nurse had held both cup and saucer as I drank, some of the precious liquid
dribbling down my chin, “no matter” she would say, tenderly wiping it away and
telling me not to worry, but that morning I felt quite capable of holding it
myself and reached out to take it from her, a little shakily, but I managed it,
I felt different, as if the life was surging back through my veins into my
body, she looked up to the monitors and smiled again, and I could see she was
anxious to leave me for some reason or another. Those reading were telling her
something, what, I have no idea, but a change in her young attitude was obvious
as she hurriedly took the cup from me and disappeared down to the office at the
end of the ward.
Before any time at all there were three of them round my
bed with the boss lady supervising, one pumping my arm up trying to rupture the
little muscle I had left in it, another sticking something in my ear and yet
another one yanking my Jim-Jam top open telling me to cough, again . . ..
cough! I tried but couldn’t. Anyway what it all boiled down to was I had had a
miraculous improvement that no one could explain during the night, and left them
all scratching their heads for the reason.
(I always have said it was the sunshine the previous day)
Arnold’s shift started and round he came checking on
everybody leaving me till last. He sat on the bed, something that they never
did, but his weight pulled the covers tight as he sank into the mattress.
“Well, you look better,” stretching out a closed fist
towards my chin in a mock action, “How do you feel this morning?” I forget my
reply, but something along the lines of ‘a couple of rounds with you might
surprise you’
“Right I’ll come back after breakfast and take you for a
spin, and get a bit more fresh-air in those lungs, what do you say about that?”
I nodded, because I felt a little bit emotional, perhaps this wasn’t the end of
the road for me. There was that little bit of hope, as I began to realise, I
may yet get out of there after all.
Wrapping me up in blankets he bodily plonked me in the
wheelchair later on that morning, and for the first time in weeks the outside
world loomed up in front of me along the corridors of that large hospital.
Through the big glass windows for the first time in what seemed ages I stared
at the traffic whizzing along the dual carriageway half a mile across the
fields. People, lots and lots of people, bustling around the corridors of a
very, very busy hospital. I know it might sound strange but I felt alive, I was
going to get out of there, but one thing I had to do before Arnold took me back
to the ward was to see that young girl again.
I held up my hand for my chauffeur to stop by the flower
stall in the foyer, telling Arnold there was money in my locker, could he buy a
little bunch of flowers for me, which he did and we made our way back to the
adjacent ward where I knew that sad young girl would be.
Entering the women’s ward Arnold stopped and spoke to the
nurse in charge, I had previously asked him for a pencil and paper, which he
produced and handed it to me. I waited sitting there in my chariot; nothing
happened, my chauffeur had disappeared leaving me to traverse the distance to
her bed on my own, evidently he wasn’t allowed on the ward, or some such silly
rule but they were making an exception where I was concerned under the
circumstances, hoping evidently, I could make some progress where they hadn’t.
(to be continued)
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