Chapter 17: What My Soul Does When I Am Asleep by Stephen Simpson

Then I am aware of being pushed along a bright corridor before my eyelids droop closed over my vision again.

I feel cold.

When I open my eyes again, I see my mum sitting in a chair beside my bed. “Mum?” I ask, but maybe I am only saying it in my head because she does not look back at me. She is staring out of the large window to the side of the bed I am on. Her face is wrought with worry. I do not want to be the reason for her distress.

It does not feel as if I fall asleep again, but when I look at her again, my dad is sitting in the chair next to me. It looks as if he has not shaved or slept for days.

He notices my eyes opening and stands up from the chair, walking closer to my side. “Gaby, at last you are waking up.”

I say, or try to say, because my voice sounds all groggy in my own ears, “Is it all done?”

Then I feel myself drift off to sleep again. A darkness folds itself around me. It is dreamless.

When the anaesthetic has finally worked itself out of my system, I open my eyes again, but I feel tired as if I have not slept a wink for months.

Isaac says from my side, “At last. I thought you were going to sleep all day. You already slept right through the night. Don't you get tired of sleeping so long?”

I turn my head to the sound of his voice and try to smile. My mouth feels dry. “Where's Mum and Dad?”

“With grandma. She started her Physio today and they had to be there to speak to the doctor. I am supposed to sit here and watch you sleep.”

“Thanks,” I mutter.

I feel myself falling into sleep again when he knocks his hand against my arm. “Hey. Wake up.”

“Talk to me, then, and maybe I'll be able to keep my eyes open.”

He looks at me for a while, then around the room, trying to find a topic of discussion. Suddenly his face lights up. “That boy next to grandma woke up this morning.”

I push myself up onto my elbows. My leg feels heavy. Lifting the bedding in a tent above my head I peer into the semi-darkness and see my left leg from my knee down wrapped in a thick layer of bandages. At least the numbing and throbbing pain is gone.

“I need to see him,” I tell Isaac as I drop the blankets back down.

“I don't think so. You need to wait for the doctor.”

A nurse walks into the room. Her brown hair is pulled into a French Plait to the side of her head, and her light blue uniform fits snugly around her hips. She smiles when she sees I am awake.

I ask her, “Can I walk around yet?”

“I was just coming to ask you if I can help you to the bathroom.”

“Can I walk further than the bathroom?”

“Your doctor will be here soon, and then he'll be able to tell you.” When she sees the quick look of frustration on my face, she adds, “I don't think there'll be a problem; everything went well with your operation.”

I am not really worried at the moment whether the operation went well or not. It is the last thing on my mind.

She stops next to my bed. “So, do you need the loo?”

I realise I do. This is going to be monumentally embarrassing. I nod my head.

“Come then.” She starts to fold back the sheets and blanket covering me. “Can you sit up all the way by yourself?”

I try to pull myself up, but when I do, there is a numb pain in my ankle. “I don't think so.”

“Come. Let me help you.” She lifts my ankle from off the bed, just a little. Enough to get me to pull my butt upwards and toward my hands pushed into the mattress to my sides.

When I am sitting up, she says, “There you go. You'll be mobile by the end of the day.”

The end of the day? I need to be mobile right now. I wonder if she knows what happens in other areas of the hospital, or if nurses only focus on the wards where they are assigned.

The nurse helps me to swivel on the bed by holding my leg straight and supporting my ankle. “The physiotherapist will probably come in with the surgeon, or he will let you know when you need to come back to have Physio or not. They might give you a Moon Boot, and then you can walk around as you want.”

“How long do I have to stay?”

“You'll probably go home tomorrow. You'll need a plaster cast before you can go home. If you are going to get a Moon Boot, the plaster cast will only be temporary.” She looks across the bed to Isaac. “Hand me those crutches leaning against the wall there, please.”

Isaac reaches for the crutches and then passes them across the bed to the nurse. His eyes stay focussed on me. Trust him to be fascinated with my pain and discomfort.

“Thank you.” She looks back at me. “These take a little while to get used to. It always looks easy, but for the first couple of days they are going to be a little uncomfortable pushing up into your armpits. But once your muscles get used to it, your body will adjust.” She hands me the crutches. “Okay, get ready. I am going to help slide you off the bed, without you putting any pressure on that ankle. You put the crutches in place under your arms, and then when the rubber under the crutches touches the ground, we'll be ready to hobble to the bathroom.” She looks up at my face. “Ready? Any pain so far?”

I shake my head. “I'm ready.”

She helps me off the bed. She is right. When I swing myself on the crutches to land on my good foot each time, the tops of the crutches shove into my armpits. She walks next to me to support me while Isaac follows behind me. His eyes follow each movement I make with great interest.

I am mortified when she goes into the cubicle in the bathroom with me, but then after she makes sure I am okay, she leaves the small stall. I can see her white shoes under the gap in the door, right outside the door.

I cringe the entire time until I struggle to get back up again without stepping onto my foot.

“All done?” she asks.

When I say, “Yes,” she pushes open the door and comes in to help me. She smiles again. “No need to be uncomfortable. I'm used to lots of strange and funny things.”

I still feel mortified.

She helps me back to the bed and then into it again. That small trip to the bathroom exhausted me, and before I can even manage to catch my breath, I am fast asleep again.

I only wake up again when the surgeon who operated on me is standing next to my bed and discussing my surgery with my mum and dad. “Everything went well,” I hear him say. “Gaby will be able to go home tomorrow.”

Looking from one to the other as they discuss me, my eyes drop closed again.

I hear my parents wonder how they are going to tell me we might have to move here. That I would have to start school here on a different continent, in a different hemisphere. My grandma's physiotherapy will take too long, and she will be in recovery for longer than the duration of the summer holiday. It is impossible to even contemplate leaving my grandma on her own again. My mum refuses point blank and she says it is not even an option. I convince myself it is only a dream, and not real. My grandma will be fine and then we will all go home together.

When I wake up, I see it is dark outside and everything in the hospital has gone quiet. I am fully awake, and I doubt I will be able to fall asleep again. I glance over at the other sleeping body on the bed beside me and then I crane my head back to look for the bell, which I need to press for a nurse to come and help me. I need to get to the bathroom again.

I see the crutches leaning against the bedside table next to me and decide I can do this. If I put my mind to it, I can get to the bathroom by myself. Mind over matter, as they say. The dull ache in my leg is gone, and I am wide awake now. I will not feel so wobbly and disorientated when I go to the bathroom this time.

I lift myself up onto my elbows and then push my palms into the mattress to my sides. Slowly I pull my legs upward while I lift myself into a sitting position. When I am sitting up properly, I swing my good leg over the side of the bed first. I lean down and see a little step stool pushed in under my bed. I manoeuvre my foot in under the bed to see if I can reach it, and then I pull it out by curling my toes around the edges.

I put my good foot on it, and I reach for the crutches. I place each crutch into position on either side of me, and then I swing myself off the bed. For a brief second, it feels as if I am going to carry on swinging forward until I fall onto the floor and my nose will probably be the first point of contact.

Miraculously, I lean backwards instead of falling forwards, and I balance myself against the bed. Taking a deep breath, I start my first step, or more appropriately, my first swing.

I manage to get to the bathroom, and I feel immensely proud of myself by the time I come out of the little stall again.

Impulsively, I decide to go up to my grandma's ward to see if I can get to speak to Barclay.

My shoulders and the fleshy part between my thumbs and index fingers are sore by the time I reach the double blue doors to my grandma's ward. I push against the door, but they stay closed. The push mechanism to unlock them is on the inside of the door. I look through the window in the top half of the door to see if I can attract anyone's attention.

Then I see Laurie walk out of a room and into the corridor. I tap against the door, not wanting to wake up all the patients on the inside.

She looks up, and when she sees my face reflected through the clear glass, she smiles.

At first, I think she is only going to wave hello, and then continue doing what she is doing, but she turns and walks in my direction.

She opens the door. “Hi, I heard about your accident.”

I shrug. “Hey, Laurie, can I come in?” Then I remember he might be asleep. “Is Barclay still awake?”

She steps aside to let me. “He is. He started reading that book you left on his bedside table, and he is engrossed in the story.”

I hobble past her and she lets the door swing closed behind me. She walks beside me to the room Barclay shares with my grandma. “He asked about you.”

I glance at her. “Why? He doesn't know me.”

“He asked if there was a girl who visited him.”

“So, he knew I was here?”

“Not sure, because he started reading the book from the beginning. I was curious to see if he would start reading from where you left the bookmark, but he started from the first page.”

Only when I swing-step myself into the room does it occur to me to wonder why I have this urgent need to see him. Will he remember me? Did we have the same dream?

Laurie waits by the door for a while, and then she turns to walk away when I hear the faint ring of a bell.

My grandma is fast asleep, and her face looks peaceful. In sleep, both sides of her mouth pull down in perfect symmetry with each other.

Continue reading Chapter 18/19

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