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Thursday, 28 February 2013

A little bit more of the story.

I'm sorry, I have been so busy these last couple of days and havn't had time to carry on with the story I started, you have all proberbly forgotten about it, so I have included below the links to the first  bit.

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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