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I wasn’t expecting it when the bleep of the ECG sounded out loud from Room 8. Gina rushed to Jemma Hadley’s bedside, and I was right there alongside her to help, my pulse racing hard.
Jemma wasn’t breathing. Her eyes were flat and lifeless, and her lips were turning blue.
It gave me shivers right down to my heart, and the world slowed down before me, my eyes widening on her son as he cried out for his mum.
Gina tried. She did everything she could to bring Jemma back, trying her best to help her as I tried to ease her husband and her son away from her side. She was still trying when Dr Hall got there, stepping back with calm to let him take over.
But I was anything but calm as I watched him, dumbstruck and useless as I tried to support her son and husband.
Dr Hall’s touch was magic. But the magic didn’t work.
Not today.
The world slowed down even slower and I was in slow motion along with it. I felt everything – felt the screams of pain from Jamie’s mouth as his dad held him tight and rocked and cried.
And no.
No.
I couldn’t do it.
I wanted to find my strength and help Jamie and Kevin out of that room, but I couldn’t. I was standing there, mute and useless, staring at Jemma as Dr Hall tried to save her life in those final few seconds.
Gina was a saviour to my failure, slipping in and helping Jamie and Kevin out of there.
I was dumb. Lost to everything but Jemma and Dr Hall, and the care on his face as he did his best for her.
I don’t know quite how long it took before Dr Hall backed away and said it was over. I’d barely even noticed Romi join him at the bedside and help as much as she could, but she’d noticed me.
She took my arm before she left the room, led me out along with her, and I was still mute, trying to summon the words that were choked up so tight I didn’t think they’d ever unravel.
She saved me the battle.
“It’s ok,” she said. “The first time is always so hard. Always.”
I managed a nod, and looked to the side to see Gina with Kevin and Jamie, about to close the blinds in the room next door.
She was calm. Still so calm.
“Really, Chloe,” Romi said in a whisper. “Don’t give yourself a hard time, it’s so tough.”
I managed another nod, but the tears were welling and I was doing everything I could for my trembling lip not to give up the fight.
I’d spent time with Jemma, Kevin and Jamie every day that week. They were happy and making plans for the things they were going to enjoy as a family, before Jemma would have to take her last breath. I’d seen pictures of their dogs at home, and Jemma’s favourite planters in her garden.
I’d heard them laugh, and I’d seen them hold each other so tight.
“Take a break for a minute,” Romi said, and squeezed my hand. “Honestly, Chloe, head to the staffroom and give yourself a bit of a time out. It’s ok.”
I managed another nod, but the world was shaking as I turned and walked away. My head was pounding and my chest was ragged, and it took every scrap of strength I had not to break down and sob like a lost little girl right there in that corridor.
I made it through the staffroom door but only just.
My first sob was a gulp that tore me apart way down deep inside. My eyes flooded and spilled, and my arms wrapped tight around my stomach as I doubled over.
I was snotty, snotty and desperate and broken, and I couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t fight it. Couldn’t do anything but break for Jemma and her family along the corridor.
I stumbled to a chair and collapsed, sobbing and rocking and sucking in breath.
I barely heard it when the door opened. I could barely see through the tears when someone stepped inside.
It was him.
It was his voice that sounded out. It was him who stepped up close and spoke my name.
“Chloe. Take a breath, nice and steady.”
But it wasn’t nice and steady when I took another breath, it was a gasp and a sob and a gut-wrenching splutter that took the wind right out of my lungs.
He crouched down beside me, and I could feel his heat. His hand reached out and squeezed, so steady and calm against my arm.
“It’s ok, Chloe. It’s going to hurt. It always does when you care. Let it out.”
I felt so small sitting there. A small, sad, broken little girl.
I was the broken little girl crying herself to sleep once Uncle David had given up his fight and passed away. I was the sobbing little girl Mum held tight, sobbing along with me when she told me I’d never see Granny Weobley again, my pink bookmark gripped tight in my hand.
