Authors: Gillian Crook
One Split Second (32 page)
Me `Minnie`, was probably hoping for a HAPPY EVER AFTER, and instead of KING AND QUEEN, I got more STEPHEN KING!
Well, it’s my fault, but I’m finding it more difficult to get up in the morning, and can be rather crabby and tetchy—thought perhaps it might be a better idea if I get some earlier nights; I was up writing until after 2 last night, and I bet Pete’s ears were burning. Actually, writing about that period in my life, left me thinking that HOW can a person end up in certain situations? People say you have choices; but if you are in a situation where your only home is where you are at that particular time and things are rough and you can’t see a way out, it doesn’t alter the fact that it IS your ‘home’ . . . and you DO NOT have a choice… that’s exactly what it’s like sometimes—you just can’t see a way out, and when people say ‘just leave him’, its not quite that simple? Ok, leave him and go where? It’s not always easy to ask for help, especially if you accept that ‘these are the cards that you have been dealt’ and try to make the most of a bad situation. And for the record, there are millions of women and men out there in lethally dangerous situations, that do not find it that easy just to ‘up and leave’, especially where children are involved. I was lucky because I had a supportive father to my children, who had never given up on me, just ‘us’! I was mortified that I had got myself into the situation I had, but I felt that I had ‘no choice’, I had a problem that was stopping me from leaving Pete, but when the problem got social services involved, and my family and my husband who never gave up, without their help, I would have still been in that flat and the ‘rut’ with Pete, still getting beaten up or perhaps, dead!
Incidentally, I don’t know if I could have ever done anything about the violence if he hadn’t gone too far; imagine the people out there who endure it and don’t have people like my husband who intervened and got me out; I may at times have had suicidal tendencies, but there was always the thought of my children having to live their lives, knowing that their mother had given up, and as long as I was still able to ask for help and there were still people out there willing to help, there was always hope. Even now, after my accident, I have never once wished that I had died, apart from when I was having my horrendous hallucinogenic nightmares, and was writhing with the pain, but those are different kind of emotions. That kind of pain is different. But my writing last night makes me ‘feel’ for other people in similar situations, and the silent millions that suffer behind closed doors. It’s weird, but I feel that I haven’t suffered in vain, and one day would love to be able to help others, to stop them becoming embroiled in the cog that allows their lives to be ‘turned and turned’ by that slow painful wheel of desperation. As I explained before, sometimes you are ‘too involved’ in something to be able to just ‘walk away’, and by the time you ‘know’ you have to, your whole self-worth, self-esteem and confidence have taking such a ‘knocking’, scuse the pun, you don’t have the courage to do so. Anyway, before I get back on my soap box, I will change the subject.
So, back to today, I had a shower, and funnily enough, talking of Pete, I haven’t heard from him today, but more importantly I haven’t heard from the kids either. Duncan and Vicky, both nurses, are on today and they’re OK. The prone trolley had been organised for the afternoon, but meantime, I had been talking to Vicky about my weight, and Duncan stuck his long nosy beak in, and commented that ‘I was skinny all over’ except for my ‘tummy’, but that it was probably just ‘middle-aged spread’ and that I was lucky to look the way I did, for a woman of my age (which I haven’t told him, I don’t think?), whose had had 2 children—grr! This little confab took place over about a 15-20 minute period, and yes, I gave it my fair share of input, because we do get a banter going, but when it comes to my weight, I get very sensitive, and NO ONE jokes or makes cheap jibes, and I was not amused. So as not to be rude, I just decided that maybe not talking to Duncan at the moment would be the best solution. I didn’t sulk or anything, I just decided that shutting myself up was best. Anyhow, the telephone got wheeled into me, and guess who, NO? yes, it was Simon! Immediately I cheered up and smiled a cocky smile at Duncan and he smiled back, bless—I think he knew that I don’t like our bantering to get too serious. So, back to Mr Mackenzie. I listened to his excuses. This time, he told me that he had been down seeing his best mate Tam, who is a chef in Dunrae, and that he would be in to see me next week. Of course I knew he meant it!! Actually, he was really apologetic for not coming in last time, and proceeded to give me an in depth detailed reason, and I listened, and I listened, and I listened… . then, he asked me what I wanted for Christmas, and that woke me up… and then I couldn’t think of anything and blurted out, hat, tops, bangles… anything? I didn’t know! In the end he asked me to be specific because he is ‘hopeless’ at buying presents, so I decided on a Best Hits of REM dvd!! Now that was making it easy for him, because I knew he could get that for about £9.99 out of Woolies or somewhere, I had seen it advertised. He told me he had tried to txt me loads of times, but that my phone was rejecting his texts. Mmh, was Mr Mackenzie pulling a fast one? We tried to experiment, and it would seem there was a problem.
The physio came in with the prone trolley so I had to go, and we agreed that he would call me back at 6—before Duncan needs the phone. Oh, hell, why should I worry about Duncan? Habit! I didn’t think Simon would phone anyway… ? I was just satisfied that he called earlier. Then, I received a call at 6 and it was Simon, my God, he remembered… . so, he told me to try and phone him back which I did, and this time we realized that there was a problem with his connection to mine, so he said he would get his phone looked at. Anyway after we said ‘cheerio’, I sent him a txt to say that I was glad that we had got back in touch again… or words to that effect…; I hope it wasn’t too much? Oh well, he can’t txt back, so I don’t know what the reply would have been. I’m just glad to know I have a best male buddy back!
Barry phoned to say that he couldn’t talk… . (so why the hell phone then?), . . . . then went on to say that him and Shonah were on their way back from an office Christmas party in Warrington last night, and the kids had been staying at friends and sorry, that they had forgotten to phone to let me know… . Gotta go, traffic, sorry again!!! Immediate, instant blood boil!!
Got back to ward pissed off and Duncan made another annoying comment and I told him that if they moved me to another wing of another stupid hospital, it WOULDNT BE FAR ENOUGH AWAY FROM HIM! Grr, why was I so mad!!? Anyway, I told him I had had enough and not to talk to me anymore… then, my kids phoned, and Mitch was having a good old chinwag, and then Casey came on and immediately made excuses for not calling and that it had been her fault and not dads, and we fell out! I was short tempered and so was she… it didn’t take much before we both apologised and were talking again and we made up. I love her and Mitch to absolute bits. She said that dad had left a message to say that he would be calling when he got home and I told her to tell her dad that I was going to a carol concert and could he call tomorrow—I didn’t want to speak to him! Then talking of carol concerts; some people (volunteers), came round to get us through to the dayroom to have a listen to some of the local primary kids singing some hymns… oh God, I’m sorry but they were having to take me through to the dayroom, in the bloody bed, no less, and no thank you, so I made my excuses that I was waiting for a phone call, and then when they came back about 10 mins later, I made out I was on the phone. I really wasn’t in the mood to watch other peoples ‘little angels’ singing off-key and shuffling awkwardly around each other, whilst being watched by a bunch of cripples, oh sorry, that was cruel! Not just to the kids but to the other patients!
Anyway, that was the mood I was in, so I was safer, making a pretend phone call into an empty receiver… don’t you think? I have a ‘dwarf’ around here that I wanted to strangle with her pointy hat… . I better not go adding a strung up ‘out of tune’ elf to the list! Oh, well, Gill, the deep-thinking-socialist-cause it’s `hip` to be `S`—(and there’s a guy in it that I fancy)—youngest Spinal Volunteer (cause I need friends that can’t run away), friend… . (not through choice—she wore me down), came looking for me, and handed me a massive toblerone, cakes and shortbread!! Bless her (blast! now I felt bad) . . . . Oh God, that’s my sugar fix for the next 2 years sorted out and to hell with the diet! She stayed and chatted for a while and then the nightshift came on, and, good lord, it was Mary, a bloody nutcase, but probably just the person to cheer me up. But, it wasn’t long before she was telling me that she thought I was ‘bunged up’, probably from all the different meds and antibiotics and said because my urine was ‘gritty’, I would have to have some lactulose and senna and drink lots and lots of water… . Just what I wanted to hear. Oh God could this day have got any worse? Yes, Pete phoned… . Oh no! I told the nurse to say I was at the carol concert? Oh well, at least the carol concert had been a good decoy on a couple of occasions and so was good for me in the long run! To make matters even more drastic, I have raging toothache (God’s punishment for me dissing the carol singers)! I’m gonna go to bed and try and suffocate myself under the blankets with a pillow!! If I don’t surface, have a nice life and enjoy Xmas… . ! C ye gentlefolk!
Well, I did surface and so far it looks like I’m still in the Southern General Hospital and I ain’t having an out-of-body experience, I’m definitely alive!! I could mistake it for hell with all the noise and banging of bins, and nurses incessant chatter to each other as if they haven’t seen each other in for ages… . why do they do that? . . . They see each other every other bloody day, but when they all first come on duty, you would think they needed to have some sort of marathon catch-up as if they hadn’t seen each other in years! Anyway, after my subs ‘going in’, and my shower, I waited patiently for the posse to come round and hoped that my lovely Mr Templar was going to be there, and he was. He told me the vamps would be taking more blood to run a few more tests and that there would be another swab taken from my wound. He dressed it, and said that he was pleased with the progress… . well, at least that’s positive!! After that, I got the prone trolley for the morning and had a good time gadding about the unit in an attempt to look like I was actually working hard at my exercises.
Actually, I did have a good time at the gym and I did work hard. Then when I went through to the ward for lunch I noticed that I had received a txt from Pete—my God, he had only gone and put £20 credit on my phone—what a Pratt!! Oh, I really don’t know… is this the start of the controlling, whereby I cannot use the excuse that I had no credit to phone him when he asks me to?? I’m not so sure… especially after what he had done? Anyway from one Pratt to another… I had another fall out with Duncan today. He could not leave things alone, and then neither could I, so I do suppose we are as bad as each other. But, then he went on to tell me that I wasn’t to worry too much about my tummy, because most men have the equivalent called a ‘beer belly’, then tried to explain that there was no insult intended, and then went on about my age, and how I was wearing well and could see that I would have had good ‘child-bearing hips—SHUT UP!! I thought it then I screamed it… he
really
doesn’t see it… . He is from another century and hasn’t a bloody clue… he is your ‘proverbial’ stone age man who should carry a club and beat his chest!! He is from the dark ages, I’m sure! My god, Duncan IS a good man… . Duncan is a good man… (say it like I’m believing it) . . . he actually is!! Decided there was nothing for it but do something to occupy my brain, before it disengaged from my mouth completely and end up saying something I regret in this immediate climate. Yup, I got the phone and phoned the kiddies, Mitch was out, so me and Casey had a chat about how things were going for Christmas and just how organised she was, bless, and how things were at school at the moment… apparently great, cause they are all getting geared up for the holidays. We said our ‘cheerios’ and I gave her high praise indeed for all her efforts. I told her about Duncan and our silly arguments, which they are, because we are actually really fond of each other, and she said she was looking forward to meeting the man that had breathed some life into her old mum and got her riled up (but she meant it in the nicest possible way!). I actually got the distinct impression that she wants her own private line and I can’t say I blame her because she wants some privacy, but she would have to pay for it herself and I don’t know where she would get the money!! Oh dear!
Marie phoned to say mum was there tonight and that they were going shopping tomorrow and what would I like them to get, mmh?—this is what I sent back:—could you possibly get me £25 Top Shop vouchers; FIFA 2003 PS2 game and SEL BXS (don’t ask me!); Nelly Furtado cd; gift candle; book for 6mth baby; box black chocs; summit for nurses station; mans (classy) scarf; stamps; headgear for a bike; Boots beauty vouchers for me; oh, diet kicks (drink); and an O2 top-up card; chocs from Thornton’s; Enough, I think? ooooh, and no hangovers tomorrow pls, ha ha lv G.xx
I sent it but I don’t think for one minute they will even get half the stuff on there… in a way, as long as I get the kiddies stuff, I will be happy… . oh, just got a txt back to say `RECD OVR & OUT`—oh yeah, we’ll see!! Actually, I still need more, but it wouldn’t surprise me if they don’t get much if they don’t feel great, and don’t want to shop too much! . . . Yeah! I can’t judge with my track record of hangovers, sorry!
Since Pete put that money in my phone, I might as well call him—see! Caught in the trap already. Next thing he will be vetting texts and calls and checking numbers that he doesn’t recognise again, when he visits! I’m a sucker—but I do have something on him now, even though he was stupid enough to tell me… . and about something that could be so potentially dangerous and land him in real trouble. Actually, I’m not a snitch, but the truth is, he is fucking crazy. Trusting me with that info about him falsifying documents to buy a baby. After what he has done to me in the past, why would he not think that I would use it against him to get my own back? To be honest, nothing I can do to him will match what he did to me, and I’m not vindictive! So, just sent a txt to him to say hello and goodnight, short and sweet. The truth as well, is that for some reason I’m curious to see him again, and find out what else he has REALLY been up to; fraud being one, and harbouring illegal immigrants in the flat… and actually, that is a risk, because as you know, I am not one to mess with, when it comes to illegal immigrants; after what happened to me in Plymund. I hate illegal fuckin immigrants, especially Turks. I don’t know about Chinese, but he has a baby to the woman, so that’s a whole different ballgame, and I’m sorry if I sound racist, because I am not—HONEST! I just find it really hard to get it out of my head ‘the rape’ that took place in Plymund, so, maybe now that I feel stronger I should chase the CID up and find out about the info I helped them with when I showed them the property where it took place… damn, if only I had taken the letter that night that had the guys name and address on it. Thank god, I even found the house… which ended up being rented and owned by Sphinx Hotels. There must have been some sort of developments. I bloody well hope so. I don’t want any girl or woman, being treated like ‘someones property’ and the man thinking he has the ‘right’ to do whatever he wants no matter how rough, degrading, insensitive or abusive to the woman, when having sex, irrespective of whether she is the wife or not! Oh, God forgive me, but I hate the bastard that did it to me!