a few easier breaths
“You don’t have to let that one thing
be the thing that defines you.”
― Jojo Moyes, After you
My gaze lifts to the lazy sky, only a few clouds disturbing the perfect blue as they glide at a steady pace over my head. The wind on top of the hill blows my hair in different directions as I look up at him, the view of a small pond stretching faintly in the distance behind him. He’s shaking his head a bit but smiling. My fingers automatically wrap around a paper cup filled with hot chocolate, and ridiculous tiny marshmallows right to the brim.
We could have picked a restaurant, you know? Somewhere warm and without drafts.
My face grimaces a bit as it’s not the first time that he has said that since we got our food and drinks. My shoulders shrug as my gaze slowly shifts to a medium-size pizza box with a bunch of toppings that could suffice an army. It’s lying between us on a beaten up picnic table, keeping company with the other empty calories slushing lightly in our cups.
I’m low maintenance, enjoy it.
The tone of your voice suggests that I forced you into this.
I look up from my sweet hot heaven and watch as he lifts his eyebrow slowly, eyeing me amused.
Oh no, don’t get me wrong. I never pass on the chance of a meal that I don’t have to actually pay for.
Then?
I didn’t feel like doing anything fancy.
You mean with the privilege and luxury of four walls?
Exactly, you get me.
I nod once, and take a big sip, trying not to make a face when my own greediness burns my tongue.
Nora.
It’s just another day in the year, Charlie. Nothing special.
Nothing special, with everything else going on in your life?
Yes, and no.
A low sigh escapes my throat as my thumb moves against the corner of the table, some small part of my brain wondering if I will stumble on a splinter. Any distraction from myself was highly welcomed.
I have never been a fan of the day, and now, I see even less point for any celebrations. You know?
I think I can understand that.
Do you like it?
I gaze at him from the side, fingernail scraping against the not yet opened pizza box. Somehow, I always had a need to do something with my hands while talking to people, a simple way of gathering up my messy thoughts.
Do I like what?
Birthdays, I bet you do.
I won’t deny it, I rather enjoy them as it’s a good opportunity to spend some time with my family and those close to me.
There is sudden silence after the last words, so I look up, finding him gazing to the side for a moment, deep in thought.
I often forget to make time just for me, with all the work and responsibilities I have, it can be challenging. Sometimes I get lost in the cluster of it all.
And on that day...
I make the time.
He looks back at me and gives me a warm smile that seems to make the faded Autumn sunshine a bit brighter. I return his smile, not being able to help it. He opens the box and takes out a slice of pizza and hands it to me. My eyebrow lifts automatically.
It’s a peace offering.
I didn’t realize we were in a state of war.
I take a slice from him and bite into it, sensing something but somehow not being bothered that much.
Some questions still need to be answered. It seems that you were willing to share some of those with me.
Charlie.
It’s been a few days.
Slowly, I put down the food, and wipe my hands against the legs of my jeans, not really caring for subtleties.
Yes, I know. There is just so much that has been happening, I didn’t have a chance to stop and think properly about all of this.
Nora, you already know your story, and it’s time I heard it too, or at least whatever you will share with me. Come on, I’m a pretty decent guy. Have a little faith.
My eyes shift as I gaze around slowly, taking in the surroundings and the few people that decided to use a first sunny day in a while.
I wish I could explain it all to you, but at times I have a hard time keeping up with all of it. Charlie, you found yourself a faulty model to look after. One that is most likely not repairable.
I never thought you were broken in the first place, just a bit battered and misplaced. Tell me what happened?
My body shifts as the words fall out of me with heaviness like a pile of rubble. I almost feel the dust in my mouth, tiny rocks crunching under my teeth.
I caused harm to someone, and now I am paying for it. And I’m paying for it more than the rest because I was at the wrong time and the wrong place.
What kind of harm?
He asks gently. My eyes lift and follow his, searching for something that would help me make some form of a decision, but everything in me seems to be still conflicted. It was an accident, just tell him. You know that you can trust him. Try. But suddenly my back straightens.
Life-changing harm. One that I will never forgive myself. I don’t even mind the punishment. I deserve it.
He looks at me for a while. The only fade sounds that break through are the ones blended in the background. Finally, he reaches out and takes my hand over the table. His touch is still warm, even if every cell in my body seems to be frozen for eternity. Those blue eyes of his, as if deep oceans upon a resting tempest. They seem to reach to the deepest parts of me that I never wanted to touch before.
Nora... no one deserves the things you are going through. No one. Do you hear me?
His fingers move against my skin, and I’m just not sure what to say or do. Lost in my broken in-betweens.
Maybe not in such a way exactly.
I say, as a peace offering of my own, a small part of me knowing that he’s probably right. I’m just so deep in all of this that an escape seems impossible to me. He nods once and gazes at me, his hand moving back, arms crossing as he ponders about something.
What more can you tell me?
Not much for now...
I catch his gaze and stop myself.
There might be some people looking for me, but that’s okay. I know they will come, no matter what I do.
What people?
I play with the side of the box again, weighing my words.
Two people, waiting for the penny to finally drop.
Explain, please.
I owe them. I owe those men my redemption or my demise. Whichever will come first.
My head tilts a bit as I look at him, the sun’s rays playing softly with his features.
But don’t worry. It’s just the way it was meant to be.
And you believe in that?
His voice stumbles a bit, unknown emotions to me, filling his tones.
I didn’t use to. But now, I can’t seem to see it any other way.
There is some heavy silence in the air for a while as none of us dares to speak, then finally I hear him take a steady breath.
Maybe for now... we should just enjoy your day?
He offers, and the corners of my lips lift slowly, a slight smile blooming.
Raincheck then?
Definitely, yes.
He smiles back, and I shrug my shoulders, going for my casual vibe.
Good, because I have other things to attend to later, anyway.
Are you just saying that to get more free food out of me?
He lifts an eyebrow, and I just shrug again.
Not this time but beware because that option is coming for sure.
Despite my thin wallet, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
It takes an enormous effort from me not to roll my eyes as I bite into the pizza, stomach rumbling as always. My eyes wander to his hand as it moves across the table and taps a place next to a tiny square-shaped package. It’s covered with brown paper and a simple beige string.
So, are you going to open it, or are you just planning on leaving the elephant in the room between us?
I’m debating.
Well, it’s a gift. It’s meant to be opened.
It’s not a gift. It’s a sentiment.
He looks at me questioningly, and I suddenly feel tired by it all. My situation, my issues, and the drama that I caused, and that affects the people that cared about me. But I continue, despite my body tensing and wanting to hide back into my worn-out and battered shell.
It doesn’t matter, I already know what’s in it.
Can I see it?
I take the package and hand it to him and then shrug.
If it amuses you.
He gives me a crooked smile and carefully opens it, untangling the perfect bow on the string and slowly removing the paper. He opens the plane paper box and scrunches his eyebrows, at first not understanding what he’s looking at. Then his expression brightens as he pulls out the contents delicately. It’s a small blue origami bird that hangs on a thin strand, made with the most excellent precision. He smiles and hands it to me as if it's made of the most fragile of glass, I take it, and gaze at it with caution.
What’s the story behind this?
I told you. It’s a sentiment.
Please?
I slowly exhale and nod.
It’s something I used to do with my mother, something we shared, just the two of us. Even though I fought her on everything else.
Wait, you can do those too?
He blinks surprised, and I shrug.
Yes, apparently, it’s one of those few nonsense things that I’m good at. Who knows, maybe if I cared more as a child, I might even be able to play the piano to you. Think of it, an entertaining way to show the people how good I am at making a spectacle of everything.
His eyebrows lift even higher.
You are just full of surprises, aren’t you?
I hear amazement and approval in his voice, and don’t’ know exactly what to do with it, not being used to such reactions.
No, I’m full of myself. There’s a difference.
He makes a face and takes another slice of the pizza, peaceful silence filling us as we eat without rush, just hanging out and enjoying the sunny afternoon. My eyes wander off to the little blue bird, trying not to fall into any kind of nostalgia. It was not something I was not willing to do yet. At least she remembered and still cares. The thought slips in even though I try to block it without much success. What was interesting was that the gift came in delayed today, just as I had plans to talk about her with someone. Coincidence? No such things as coincidence, darling, and you know it. I shake my head and smile at him, putting the gift away and deciding to actually enjoy my overdue birthday feast a bit. Why not, after all? Even sinners need to eat sometimes.
______
A few hours later. The hospital.
I walk into her room and smile slowly as I watch her attitude slip out of her, even when there is no one around, a closed book lying on the bed as she types something on the phone with lightspeed fury action. I tap on the door frame to catch some attention.
Hey, minor.
Hey there, personalized stalker.
My eyebrows scrunch together tightly.
I did it one time. And you’re not going to let go of it, are you?
Don’t bet money on it.
I rather buy a burger.
Morgan sends me a disgusted look.
Those things are really unhealthy, they raise your blood pressure and clog your arteries. All fat, and chemistry.
You’re just saying that because nobody lets you eat it.
I untangle my bag and plonk on her bed.
You have no manners or a heart.
All true, did you download my file from the CIA?
No, found it all on the “theloosergoesbyhimself. com”.
Pretends that she’s got some humor, good for you.
She shakes her head at me, judging me without any hesitation. I wonder why I’m the one that always ends up acting like the spoiled teenager in the room. Well, probably to balance out the universe, by being the biggest, black hole around. I smirk at her.
Don’t be so judgey, people might think it’s true.
Let them think what they want, I don’t care anymore.
I stare at her for a moment, calculating something.
I went to my mum last week, gave her some of the pictures I took of you. All big size and glamorous.
Her eyes shoot up as her gaze digs deep into mine.
You did what?!
Relax, it was just my mum, a sort of late birthday gift. No worries, there is a possibility she threw it away... though, who knows. Maybe I’m not the worst child imaginable.
I was on the pictures, what if she starts to show it around, how will I explain it if someone finds out?
I wave a hand her, dismissingly.
Not a problem, they will probably stay in a drawer or the attic somewhere.
Why?
Her tone changes a bit, and I glance at her. The weight in my chest seems to deepen a bit, but I ignore it.
She’s too afraid to show them to him because then she would have to admit that I came over, and that’s bad for my father’s “condition”.
Why?
She asks again, and the question turns into a whisper. She’s grown curious.
You already know me well enough to know what I’m about. The phrase “bad news” is a compliment here.
Do you think she will tell your dad eventually?
My stare moves to the window, and then I sigh slowly, deflating a bit like a balloon.
Maybe, when it’s all over.
I feel delicate fingers wrap around my hand, the skin feels both cold and warm to me. My head shifts in her direction, her stare both serious and gentle.
You don’t believe that you’ll get out of this.
It’s not a question.
No, I don’t. But I got here and now. That’s something.
She nods again. Her thumb, rubbing the inside of my hand while she ponders about something.
Why did you tell me about that visit and the pictures that you gave to your mum?
My fingers slip out of hers slowly- having a limited timing and tolerance for human affections - but she doesn’t seem to mind, her arms crossing over her chest.
Because I knew you would judge me openly, on full display. No pretenses or pity talk and I needed to tell someone, or else I might start to wonder if it really happened.
My lungs lift and drop as I say it, the action seems hollow, but I’m used to it.
This disease has many limitations, and one of its “perks” is questioning your own insanity daily.
She nods again and leans against the pillows, searching for something on her phone.
I found this one yesterday.
She hands me an earplug - the hospital was strict about making too much noise around other patients. Personally, I thought she was just showing off when I met her. The first tones play out, and I listen with interest.
You could still be
What you want to
What you said you were
When I met you
I stare at her hazel eyes, a bit surprised. She looks like she is analyzing my reaction - the lyrics invading my mind.
You’ve got a warm heart
You’ve got a beautiful brain
But it’s disintegrating
From all the medicine
From all the medicine
From all the medicine
Medicine
How do you know this song?
She shrugs.
Like I said before, found it yesterday. But it’s good, right?
Yes, it’s something. Didn’t realize you were a fan of Daughter*?
Music is music, and I like what I like. No limitations.
I’ll give you points for that.
I gaze at her and give her back the headphone, my mind deep in many thoughts, but none of them making the podium. I notice her putting up the volume so I can hear the song anyway. Stubborn creature, just like me.
Why that song?
She shrugs nonchalantly.
Just felt it would stick to you.
My eyebrows lift a bit and then I just shrug. Despite the age difference and a contradicting approach to life, we seemed to get along somehow. Almost gravitating to each other, maybe we shared some broken parts that for some unknown reasons matched. Or maybe it was just the moody and sarcastic behavior that let us be in the same room for more than five minutes at a time.
She actually sent me a gift for my... special day.
Morgan looks up at me, a bit distracted from song ringing in her ears.
Who, your mum?
Yes, something that she has been giving me every year when I was a child. It’s been a very long time since that happened last.
I roam around in my bag and pull out the little box and putting it in her hand. She opens it and seems to be delighted by it, her eyes sparkling in the fluorescent hospital lights.
That’s beautiful.
I want you to have it.
Her shocked eyes meet mine.
Wait, what? Let me get this straight. You get a present for your birthday and you’re giving it to me?
Yes.
No... I can’t take that. No.
She shifts it my way, but I stop her, my hand on hers.
Then will you take it for safe keeping?
Safe keeping?
She sounds unconvinced by the term, but it doesn’t stop me in any way.
Just until I am ready to make it a part of my home?
Morgan stiffens for a moment, but then nods slowly and smiles shyly. I smile back, not used seeing her so soft around anyone. I guess we all had different sides of ourselves that we didn’t’ normally share with the rest of the world. She hands it by the back of her bed and watches it dance slightly as getting ready to fly away and sore with grace under the ceiling. I watch her with interest as she shifts her face to me and moves the book my way.
Not hospital property. It’s a fair exchange, you have not other option than to take it. Happy birthday.
My fingers reach out for it, the book in hardcover and having more than a few years on it, but in good shape. There’s no title on the pretty brown front, so I open it, curious what it is. I smile, amused at yet another coincidence.
Jane Eyre, really?
It will be good for you; you might learn something new.
She says with a smirk and starts to type on her phone again, this time with more peace and lighter energy. I know that she senses the little blue origami bird behind her as she moves one of her hands to it and strokes it a few times. Then her eyes move up at me as if to say “Go on, shoo. Find someone else to bother”. I stand up with pretend dignity and bow lightly at her as I leave.
A curious day it has been, world. Very curious.
_______________________
*Daughter is an English indie-folk trio. Fronted by North London native Elena Tonra.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sf6mkYz4mx0 (song used in the story)
https://theprose.com/post/230936/with-all-my-senses (chapter 1 )
Previous 3 chapters :
27. https://theprose.com/post/340650/when-the-dust-settles
28. https://theprose.com/post/357215/reaching-out
29. https://theprose.com/post/363993/those-blurred-lines
Chapter Thirteen - Whatever gets you through the night
I have a hard time sleeping. The minutes crawl by. After a while I think I smell something strange but maybe it's just my imagination. After a while as I stare at the ceiling, it disappears and I can see the sky and all the stars. The walls disappear and I'm standing in the woods. There's nothing here but trees. I should be afraid but I'm not. I start walking and run right into Jake.
"Nia," Jake says, "We've been looking all over for you. Where have you been?" This can't really be happening. I can't really be in the woods. Jake just looks at me waiting for an answer and after a few minutes I have to answer.
"I've lost my entire family. The thought of starting humanity over with you scared me and I needed to get some fresh air." I answer.
"Well, I'm glad you're safe. We were all worried about you. I understand that you're scared but we'll figure it out together." Jake says.
"Then Katy appeared, the older Katy and transported me back to the village. But it wasn't the village I remember, this village was different." I tell him.
"It's okay. You're safe now." Jake assures me, "Let's just go back to the project station and you can get a good night's sleep"
"What did you say?" I ask him. We've never called the Assembly hall the project station before. Something isn't right but I can't figure out what.
"I said we should go back to the Assembly hall so you can get a good night's sleep." Jake says again.
"Did you say project station before?" I ask him.
"Of course not. I said Assembly hall. What's the project station?" Jake asks.
"Forget it." I tell him. We walk back to the Assembly hall. When we get there, Lisa and the preacher are waiting for us.
"We were right about Katy," Jake tells the preacher, "She can still time travel. She can also travel to different futures."
"How do you know that?" The preacher asks Jake.
"Because Nia said that Katy took her to the village but the village was different." Jake answered.
"Different How?" The preacher asks.
"The village had phones and cars and things like that." I tell him.
"Nia, how did you get back here?" The preacher asks.
"I can't remember." I tell him.
"Look, why don't you get some sleep and you'll feel better in the morning." Jake tells me.
"Okay" I say back as Jake walks me to my room. I lay down. The bed is comfortable and soon I am fast asleep. When I wake up, the walls are a soft blue. There is nothing in my room except a bed. I realize I'm still in the big city. I remember being in the woods. It seemed real but it must have been just a dream. After a while someone comes and takes me to a room that has long tables in it. I am told to sit down. There are other people here also sitting down. I am brought a tray that has oatmeal in it and some burnt toast.
"Eat up" says the person who brought me the tray, "This is your breakfast." The person walks away before I can answer so I start eating. The oatmeal is bland and doesn't taste very good. I make myself eat it anyway. After I am done eating my breakfast, I am taken to a large room that has toys in it and left there. I look at the other people in the room and notice the blank stares on their faces. It's a little bit creepy. I sit in a chair that is against one of the walls and keep an eye on everyone.
After what seems like forever, I am told the doctor wants to see me so I get up and follow another person I don't know to a small room. The small room has two chairs in it. In one of the chairs sits the doctor and the other chair is empty. I am told to sit down.
"So Nia, did you sleep well last night?" The doctor asks me.
"I slept all right" I tell him back.
"Well, it's your first night in a strange place, it's completely normal if you had trouble sleeping." He offers. I don't say anything back.
"Okay," the doctor says finally, "Tell me about your sister?"
"You want me to tell you about Katy?" I asked him.
"Yes, you mentioned that Katy brought you back to the village. I would like to know more about her." The doctor says.
"Okay, Katy is really smart. She's way smarter than me. I'd never tell her that to her face but it's true. She can remember anything. She's kind and sweet. It makes fighting with her really hard because she's so nice. When I got back to the village, she even let me sleep in her bed."
"I see" said the doctor, "How old is Katy?"
"22 maybe. I'm not sure but I think she's 22." I answer.
"It says here that Katy is 15." The doctor says. "Why do you think she is 22?"
"I don't know" I tell him.
"Who is older?" The doctor asks me, "you or Katy?"
"I'm older." I said.
"And how old are you?" the doctor follows up.
"I'm 17." I answer.
"If you are 17 and you are older than Katy, then how can Katy be 22?" the doctor reasons.
"I don't know." I answer, "That is weird, but for a moment I really thought Katy was 22."
"Do you still think Katy is 22?" The doctor asks.
"Of course not. That would be silly." I answer him.
Let’s Make A Difference
Given one chance to change the world with a speech is offered to me.
I would stand in front of the mic and say: People, of all creed, colors, nations, creations. You are loved.
Differences we do share, but not in a negative way. Differences was put upon us for variation of events.
Your difference can change the way cancer is cured. Your difference can change the way people come as one. Your difference can change the outcome of a bad situation. Your difference can change lives. In the past you were frown upon because you were different, be it color, sexuality, national, creed and so on. You were made by someone that saw you as perfect. That means whether people see you as perfect or not, you
were made to be perfect. Perfect because he knew making you, a job will be done correctly. If we all did the job we were put here to do, the world would be perfect too. But there are "Negatierians." My word now for negative changers. They only want negative things to happen. They are not happy unless we as positive people are sad. Which draws a opposites attract sydrome. Like a negative and positive magnet, they will connect and cause confusion. If we as people only try to connect to positive people and shun out the negative people, we will change the world with just that. Recently, a peaceful protest turned into a distroyed city and alot of robberies. Positive people wanted to be heard, they had something to say, and negative people wanted it to be seen not heard. Once they are arrested, the excuse is that they were abused in their childhood somehow. My theory is that negative people want someone to be held accountable for the pain
they suffer from inside. And they will stop at nothing, until someone takes the blame. So until then everything that we try to fix or lift higher will fall until then. I have faith that together as people we can overcome anything. We will hold the hands of the Negatierians one day and say our prayers and eat a hardy meal. If we could, let's start at the base line. No one had a choice of what color they will become! No one knew what gender they would be! No one had a choice of what financial state they would be born in! And no one knew what country they would be born in! If you can remember these four things, you would see people different and know that their difference was put here to help you, not compete against you. When you take your car to the shop, do you feel prejudice towards the mechanic because he knows more than you? Or do you hope he knows more than you and fix your car correctly. Guess what, it is like I said, he was put here to do a job correctly. I hope you see the difference, and how difference can help you not hurt you.
Mr. Schooner
Mr. Schooner work at a meat plant. He would kill only people that seem homeless. He would kidnap them from under bridges and in the woods by offering them something they could use. By doing this type of person it would curve the urge for him and it wouldn't be on the news because no one would be looking for them. He would ride up in the seem to be normal white van and take his person. He would knock them out and put them in a bag inside the van to get rid of any extra things falling off of them. Take them to the meat plant and take all of their clothes off and burn them in incenerary. He would kill them by stranglation and put their body in the meat grinder for animal food. He left no evidence and no one is alerted.
The Pre-Op and other misfortunes..
I’d better start by explaining that I haven’t been in the best of health lately and made the mistake of mentioning this to my doctor a few months ago which, in hindsight may not have been the best course of action. Since then, I have been tested for everything a human being can suffer from since time immemorial and that includes the great plague. Alarm bells rang for me when the doctor, after spotting what she described as a “ring of roses” on my palm proceeded to check my pockets for “posies”! The long and short of it is, and indeed the last in a long line of ailments means a consultant wants to poke around down my throat with a camera to find out why I can’t sing anymore. Some oik, whom I believe to be a neighbour, apparently sent a pleading letter containing £50 asking him not to perform the op! Before I agreed to the investigative operation, I sought assurance from the consultant that I would at least be able to play the piano after the op. He assured me I would which pleased me no end because I’ve been trying to master the flippin thing since childhood and had about given up having only managing a few bars of chopsticks.
To cut a long story into two volumes and a best seller, I received a letter four months after his consultation with an appointment for three months hence, which was much longer than the "month at most" he quoted it would be at the time!
The day of the pre-op arrived, and I prepared everything I needed for work so that as soon as I returned home, I could pick up my briefcase and drive to work as quickly as the speed limit allowed, thus minimizing the lunches I would have to work to make up the time I had lost due to this appointment. My working contract excluded payment for sickness!
I left the house in plenty of time, but I’m sure I am not the only person in the world who put’s oneself under pressure to get to an appointment because waiting around the corner could be the biggest tailback of traffic which will inevitably make you late! It was all of about 100 yards before I started driving like a lunatic, the side window wound down in preparation for any finger gestures, wrist flexing and general swearing that may be required to be aimed at anyone that was going to hold up my journey. Having previously been a calm and relaxed type of bloke, especially when driving, I have had to change with the times or risk getting bullied on the roads!
The journey was fairly uneventful so to ensure I remained in peak practice, let a group of middle-aged ramblers have the full complement of hand gestures as I passed them standing by a bus stop. My luck must have been in because even I did not spot the pool of water in the road which unfortunately as I drove through it, soaked the group entirely. Viewing the scene in my rear-view mirror, I could see them returning the very same gestures I had previously shared with them only a few seconds earlier! The group were clearly only concentrating on the gestures and not on what was going on around them because they were soaked a second time by the car that was following behind me! Kismet came to mind as I drove on.
I reached the hospital car park bolstered by the knowledge that my no claims bonus has remained intact and joined the merry go round of cars searching for a space to park. I saw patients peering through the windows looking down at the farce playing out below them. It must have resembled a scene from Custer’s Last Stand as the cars followed each other boot to bonnet in a circle around the car park. I must have toured all four car parks at least three times without finding a crevice big enough to squeeze my bonnet into and claim it as a valid space.
Feeling nauseous, I broke out the convoy and headed back to the far car park ahead of the crowd where I managed to utilize one wrist flexing gesture and a two fingered gesture all within twenty yards at a particularly over cautious nun who had forgotten to apply the hand brake to her godmobile which was rolling out of the space she had obviously found with god’s help! I skimmed past her vehicle offering my emergency range of gestures and as I passed. As I looked in the rear-view mirror, the cheeky wotsit was making the sign of the cross back at me! I’m not a religious man by any means but now I’m not so sure as right in front of me was a car park space, albeit illegal, but a space none the less. It wasn’t actually a marked out legitimate space, in fact, to be honest it was once a flower bed circled with curbstones and was now full of weeds, devoured of any former blooms, possibly by forgetful or frugal visitors to the inhabitants of the hospital. I positioned two wheels inside the flower bed, being careful not to damage the underside of the car. I rummaged in the boot and found the correct sign for the occasion and positioned the sign on the dashboard so it could clearly be seen stating “Doctor on Call”! I was going to pay for a car park ticket as I’d noticed a sign on the way round the first tour of the car parks stating that staff should also buy a car park ticket! The “Doctor on Call” sign was to assure the clamping company that in my vehicles particular case was possibly left there in an emergency.
I walked to the pay station with a pocket full of change. I thought two hours would be sufficient for the pre-op, so started feeding in one-pound coins which were immediately rejected. You know what it’s like with these machines; previous users of the machine desperate to retrieve rejected coins without success had used various instruments to try to retrieve the said coins from the reject flap and in doing so had broken the flap off. My coins fell to the floor. I tried another coin and again they were rejected onto the floor. Luckily, I had fifteen 20 pence coins and seven ten pence coins in my pocket which just bought me two hours parking with no reduction for parking in a flower bed. I passed the nun as she was pushing her car back into its space and gave her a cheery good morning, she did not reply. Her strained expression portrayed her necessity to preserve her strength! I popped the ticket on the dash next to the “Doctor on Call” sign, locked the car and walked towards the Hospital entrance.
You know when you have a little mental bet with yourself and you win, the feeling you get that you had got one over on yourself, but it didn’t really matter because you’d won the bet anyway? Well, it must have either been divine intervention or it really was my lucky day because as I reached the nun’s car, I saw her leaning at a forty-five degree angle backwards, legs straight and heels digging hard into the tarmac and gripping the open driver’s door handle in a veined attempt to stop the car from rolling down the incline of the car park. Manners prevented me from continuing, so I stopped and allowed her to skid past, the heels on her court shoes now fifty per cent worn at a forty-five-degree angle! There was a chorus of “J-e-s-u-s Ch-r-i-s-t....” in C# minor if my ears were attuned correctly which seemed to diminish in volume the further the car dragged her down the car park! Dancing on ice immediately came to mind and I found myself humming the theme tune as I walked to the entrance. The smell of frying bacon hit me as I neared the entrance door.
Now I don’t know about you, and I won’t labour the point but, why do hospitals serve the unhealthiest food options when you are ill in hospital, and why are there so many people with drips attached to their bodies encircled by nurses without drips attached huddled around the entrance smoking cigarettes? I must have inhaled at least 20 cigarettes as I squeezed my way past and in through the door. Funnily enough I found I had acquired a drip myself from someone I must have brushed past at the entrance. Luckily it was unattached to a vein so wheeled it to a security guard who surveyed the incoming herd of potential customers and those future customers who headed into the cafe!
I passed a large poster informing anyone who bothered to read it to “Look after your heart, eat healthily” mounted right next to the cafés open entrance which served bacon sausage and eggs, the smell of which filled the whole hospital with its rather mouth-watering aroma.
I reported to the reception desk where a little old lady behind the desk growled “YES”! She resembled someone who had just swallowed a wasp without chewing it. I passed my paperwork to her and she growled “up the stairs, turn left and its area four”! I climbed the forty-two steps to the top, turned left and between wheezes, scanned the walls for a sign indicating area four. I managed to spot it right at the end of the mezzanine. As I approached, I thought there was a “Climate Rebellion” demonstration in progress as the walls were covered with placards telling victims requiring their services what to and what not to do. I started at the top left reading each instruction before moving on to the next. None of it was relevant to me until I got to the last placard. “If you are here for a blood test, take a number and sit down. Now I could have been pedantic here and blocked the entrance to the blood test department as the instructions did not mention to sit on a seat in the waiting area. I heard a voice behind me saying loudly enough that everyone heard, “I bet they are all dinking bleeding tea in there, having a good old laugh at us lot waiting out here”. Not wishing to get on the wrong side of this lady, and stirring the pot figuratively speaking, I replied that I could actually see them eating cream cakes as well. Ten minutes I’ve been bleeding waiting, I want to get home to me kids and all they can do is sit drinking tea. And eating cakes I added!
I took a seat away from the lady and scanned the area, looking at each of the poor souls before me. A flock of nurses appeared and called number one, number two, number three! I was number four. Oh well I thought not long. As I waited, I heard a scream come from one of the side rooms, I recognised the voice to be that of the woman who had been moaning earlier. In her inimitable tone she shouted, “what the bleeding hell are you doing, sharp scratch, my arse”. I chuckled and a young nurse called number four. I walked over to her outstretched hand and quickly informed her that I’d had an extensive blood test three weeks earlier in the vain hope that I could forgo the process. She took the hospital letter from me and said I’ll just print off the details from our system and disappeared into an office. Just as she returned, another nurse shouted Mr. Race. I said I’m afraid I’m already spoken for. The first young nurse asked, “Are you here for a blood test?” Gaud knows I replied, I was told to come to area four and assumed my pre op included Dracula’s cave for a blood test. The second nurse said no Mr. Race, come with me I have to take your blood pressure. I gave the first nurse a cheery shrug of my shoulders and followed the second nurse to a discreet corner of the corridor. She sat me down in a chair and put what looked like a clothes peg on my finger and wrapped the inflatable band around my right arm. She pressed a few buttons on the machine. Now I’m sorry, but in these situations, I always try and bring a little sense of humour into proceedings if only to take my mind off whatever the medical team were going to do to me and can never resist testing the sense of humour of the person carrying out the test. So, when the arm band inflated, I gave out a loud Pssssssssssss. Thinking the arm band had punctured, the nurse aborted the test and changed the band. I didn’t have the heart to own up! With the new band firmly in place and blood pressure taken, I noticed that she was looking a bit puzzled at the machine and said I had better test the other arm. Why I asked, is this arm dead? No, she said, it’s a bit high. I looked at both arms and politely informed her they looked the same height to me. No, your blood pressure’s a bit high, so I’ll take another reading on the other arm. I was tempted to ask if this one failed, would I have to lower my trousers and go for the best of three but thought it might be a bit forward of me and besides they don’t take blood pressure from the leg, do they? It wouldn’t be anything to do with the stress of finding a car park space and the forty-two steps that needed to be mounted to get up to this floor would it? Ohh I never thought of that she said. She took the other reading which was just as high as the first one. I might need to take another she said. Blimey I thought, have I got clean pants on? She confirmed the third reading was not necessary and I breathed a sigh of relief. She informed me that I was off to see Susan next and that Helen will want to see me after that.
I took a seat back in the waiting room which was exclusively reserved for Dracula’s Cave. I checked the time on my phone; I had one hour, and twenty minutes left on the car park ticket. Mr. Race, I heard from behind me. Yes, I said. Follow me replied the nurse, so obediently I followed her down the corridor to another treatment room. Now I was always told that a man can be recognised as a man by an Adams apple protrusion in the throat. Susan, I noticed had an Adam’s apple! A little confused by the figure in front of me, I discreetly scanned Susan from head to toe. The vision confirmed that Susan was a man when viewed from a frontal prospective complete with whiskers and the tell-tale Adams apple! But Susan is a female name I argued with myself. My thoughts were disturbed by Susan saying I’m going to take your height and weight, stand on here and face the bar. I resisted asking for a gin & tonic. Right what does it say said Susan looking at the digital weight screen? Get off you fat git more than likely I said. No Susan replied you aren’t too bad. Gaud I’ve pulled I thought! 1.75 meters she read off the height scale. Ok, pop your trousers off. My shocked expression led Susan to reveal she was only joking, and that Helen was waiting for me.
There was a discussion going on between Susan and Helen as I took a seat in the corridor outside Helen’s office. How are you feeling Susan asked Helen? Just having a few hot flushes answered Susan. That’s the menopause for you replied Helen. Helen’s as nuts as Susan is; it’s a bloke for gauds sake I screamed inside my head.
Mr. Race called a voice from inside the office; I entered and sat down next to Helen. She turned and jumped out of her seat. She said Christ, I wasn’t expecting you to be sat there, it usually takes my pre-op people a few minutes just to stand up, never mind be sat next to me. Would you like me to go out and come back in with a limp I asked? No said Helen. Anyway, I said, Susan has put somewhat of a spring in my step, I couldn’t get away quick enough! Thinking I’d overstepped the formality, apologised. Not at all said Helen and revealed that since Susan had gone into menopause, she had grown facial hair, but we just ignore it the poor love. Anyway Mr. Race, you have been keeping us pretty busy haven’t you with all your ailments. I started to reveal everything that had happened to me recently and after about an hour describing the different diagnoses, I checked the time on my phone. I said you are going to have to hurry Helen; I only have forty-five minutes left on my car park ticket. We started on the questionnaire. I won’t bore readers with the details; suffice to say I had to nudge her twice to wake her up so we could carry on with question number two!
We eventually got to the end and she said you have to have an ECG, right, out of this door to the end of the corridor, turn right, through the doors, turn right and you will see a brown desk, give the woman this card and thrust a printed card into my hand and she will see to you. When you’ve had it done bring it back to me.
So off I went and it’s at times like these you wish you had a reel of cotton handy so you could tie one end to Helen’s door knob and the other to my trouser belt in order to be able to trace the route back afterwards! I eventually reached my destination and arrived at the brown desk. The room was heaving with people suffering from all the ailments I had previously been diagnosed with and had received the “all clear” for. I informed the receptionist sat at the desk that I only had thirty minutes left on the car park ticket. Don’t worry she said, they unclamp you very quickly these days! We won’t keep you long, take a seat pointing behind me to where there wasn’t a seat to be had. A nurse came to the desk and said to the receptionist “not more walk ins”! She was looking at what looked like the card I had earlier passed to the receptionist. Mr. Race she shouted. I was in quicker than a rat up a trouser leg before the mob behind me realised I had, in their eyes, jumped the queue.
I was led to a small room with a single bed in it.” Off with your shirt and lie on the bed”! Without a mention of bedside manner, I was on the bed, shirtless. Visions of Mr. Clampervan entered my head and thoughts of him going through the process of clamping my car despite my “Doctor on Call sign” quite visible through the windscreen. Meanwhile, the nurse was yanking out clumps of chest hair to enable the adhesive connections to be attached. I asked if she worked part time in the local waxing emporium as she had quite a knack for removing just the right amount of body hair with one tug. No, she smiled as she slowly ripped the final clump of hairs from my chest. I used to work in the Black Country Pork Scratching Factory removing the hairs from the pig skins before they were fried. The jobs not much different than here then I said! She told me to relax as she could not get a clear reading. What, with the free car park tour, the forty-two steps, meeting Susan and now having a free chest and leg wax all while some clamper clamps my car, I’m about as relaxed as I’m going to be. That’s it she said, whatever you did, it worked. She ripped off the adhesive strips as gently as a slitter in an abattoir and I was free to go back to Helen.
I managed to disguise myself enough to pass the mob in the waiting room although I did receive rather a sour look from one lady sat by the exit door and by some stroke of luck found myself outside Helen’s office. Come in she said, sit down. I passed her the ECG and she stared at it. After a period of contemplation, she said it was nothing that she did not expect. I asked if it was her ECG, would she be pleased. Not really, she replied but it is what we expected. Ok she said if the operation goes ahead it will be on the date we have indicated. You have to be here at seven am. Nothing to eat or drink and if I click this button on the computer, we will see what time the op is planned for. Right, 16.45 you should be out by 20.00hrs if all goes well!
Mindful that it may take at least fifteen minutes to reach my car, time was against me. Is that it, can I go now? Yes, said Helen. I was already at the door. Barring any requests for drug tests I must have beaten all the current hospital speed records and I got back to the car with ten minutes to spare despite having to negotiate the ever increasing crowd of smokers at the entry/exit door and the extra weight of a plaster cast that somehow had found its way under my right arm. I noticed the nun had managed to push her car back into her space and apply the handbrake. She was catching her breath, bent over the bonnet as I passed. I put the plaster cast in the boot along with the “Doctor on Call” sign, set the Sat Nav, gently eased the two wheels out of the flower bed and I was free to go home!
©Julian Race 16/07/2020
Dial 0 for Operator
….Sometimes my mind is working on all four cylinders and sometimes it is not. The fact that I remember that there are four cylinders in an engine and my use of the metaphor itself is an indication that I am having a good day; as of this minute anyway.
Perhaps it is not a surprise, or maybe it is, and my kid sister, who is ninety-five by the way, let the kid out of the bag, or is the cat out of the bag? Either will do. Anyway, she sent me a letter in the mail. The letter carrier just delivered it, and when I saw the return address from our home town of Ding Dong, Texas, and yes it is a real town; look it up on one of your doohickey, thingamajig’s that you carry around with you everywhere and call a phone, but you rarely use it to talk to anybody, so I guess I should consider myself lucky that you are talking to me right now. When I was your age, phones were attached to the wall and the only way to connect was to dial 0 for a real live operator. If the party you were calling was not home, you had to try all over again because messages were only delivered by the United States Postal Service, same as I just received from my sister.
So it says here in this letter in my sister’s shaky old lady handwriting that she is sorry that we cannot be together for my big day on January 15th, 2021; that she won’t be able to be celebrate my birthday with me, so I guess that means my family is planning one of those Veteran’s Hall celebrations, down in the basement with paper plates, lasagna, and birthday cake like they did for my 90th, and I’m not kidding, maybe it is wishful thinking on my part, but I totally forgot that I am going to be one century old in two weeks. Leave it to my sassy sister to so boldly point that out.
Since you now know my age, imagine this tidbit of information; I was born just months after the 19th Amendment to the constitution gave women the right to vote. And now we are finally going to have a female Vice President of the United States inaugurated just a few days after my birthday and she’s a dark skinned woman to boot! I still remember when we couldn’t drink from the same water fountain, something I don’t mind forgetting about on one of my bad days. When your memory is slipping, like mine, there are certain advantages that come with the disadvantage and don’t I wish that I could choose how to work that system.
And hey. Can you do me a favor? Can you call me from that thing of yours that actually does dial my phone number? I’d really like to be reminded in case it’s a bad memory day for me on January 20, 2021 to watch the inauguration this year. Okay?
Better yet, come by. I’ll save you a piece of leftover birthday cake and we can watch the inauguration together and then if you would be so kind, you can show me how to work the calendar on my phone. Something tells me it’s gonna be an eventful year.
But the one thing that has me stumped is the reason my sister has used to not come see me. She said although she is healthy enough to fly, she can’t take a chance because of Coronavirus. Coronavirus? Is it just me? Did I hear about it on a day I was misfiring? Have I forgotten some important information or is my kid sister taking advantage of my blinking brain with her blinking brain and pulling one over me? Do you care to explain? Maybe it will come back to me, maybe it won’t. So if you could help an old lady out I’d be much obliged.
…...Oh….What’s that you say?….Right….Coronavirus….Nevermind. It just came back to me. All of it. It is the reason why I am sitting here all alone talking to you. All my kids claim they want to protect me by staying away, and I believe they do, but I also wonder if they might feel a little relieved to leave me off their to-do lists. So I guess my sister did not spoil any big surprise since parties are still a no no instead of a go go.
But it’s okay to be all alone. Really it is. I’ve got my books and I’ve got my cat Fergie here with me keeping me company and my groceries are delivered by this nice young fella. He always wears a mask that says BLM and at 100 years old, I am fully aware I could be six feet under all alone, so why should I complain when I’m still sitting upright, breathing air and talking to you.
….Who did you say you are again?
You
Isn't it amazing how many people care about you. Every person who takes time to respond to this challenge wants you to thrive. Right now a lot of folks are praying for you and wishing with all their hearts that they might find the right words to make a difference in your life.
For me, God is the answer, and I've asked Him to be with you.