AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I rub my eye with one knuckle and blink a couple of times. My vision is blurry and it’s a struggle for me to keep awake. Unsteadily, I take another swig of lukewarm coffee, wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, and place the cup on the table. I glance at myKermit the Frogwatch.
Nine twenty-five am.
Jesus, I don’t know how much longer I can keep going without any sleep.
I’m sitting in a small green waiting room in theHyper Acute Stroke Unit at Queen Victoria Hospital in Tooting. I’ve been here for well over three hours, drinking endless cups of coffee and praying that my father is going to make it. The paramedics say he’s had a stroke, the severity of which is still being determined. No one yet knows what the long lasting effects will be—if he’s paralysed, if he’s got brain damage—it’s still too early to say. They can’t say with certainty what caused the stroke, but won’t rule out Dad’s pot smoking, or his reluctance to take his blood pressure pills on time. No one can put my mind at rest, so right now, all I can do is wait for an update.
I press my fingers to my temples and shake my head ruefully. These past few hours have been a complete nightmare.After the taxi driver called for an ambulance, we were hit with yet another hurdle when the paramedics arrived and said they were not authorised to break the door down to get my father out. As a result, we were forced to wait another twenty minutes for the police to arrive. Thankfully, one of the officers managed to access the property through a back window, saving them having to kick the door in.
After, I spent the whole journey to the hospital hating myself for not getting there sooner, tearfully imagining a future without my dear old dad.The Queen Victoria in Tooting was not our nearest hospital, but the ambulance brought us here because it’s the only one in South London that provides comprehensive aftercare for patients with neurorehabilitation needs. Its recent refurbishment and state-of-the-art equipment mean my father is in the best possible place to pull through. I just hope to God he makes it. I don’t know what I’ll do if he dies and I never got to say goodbye; never got to tell him just how much I love him, or how much he means to me.
Shivering, I wrap my dressing gown more tightly around my shoulders, and wonder if the nurses could turn up the heating. The ward is freezing and I dread to think what this could be doing to the elderly, more vulnerable patients. With conditions like this, is it any wonder people catch pneumonia? Despite this, I have to admit that most of the staff have been lovely.
When I first stepped out of the ambulance in my skimpy mini dress, someone immediately found me a pair of slippers to wear. There have also been non-stop offers of tea and biscuits, which I certainly can’t complain about. My only gripe is the lack of communication regarding my father’s condition. Since the initial assessment made by the paramedics on the way down to the hospital, no one has been able to give me a solid diagnosis or tell me the name of Dad’s doctor. I appreciate staff at the NHS are run off their feet, but really, three hours with no updates is simply not acceptable.
Gritting my teeth, I try to stay calm and hold it together. Every fibre of my being wants to sleep and I’m constantly on the verge of losing it, but somehow I keep going. I don’t know how, but I do. I need to stay strong for my father.He needs me more than anything.
Faint vestiges of the horror from earlier still linger on my mind, but I try to shake them off; try to block out those dark, nagging doubts that threaten to master me. For the sake of my sanity, I have decided that what happened at Nick’s house must have been a powerful hallucination—or I must have dreamed the entire episode. It’s the only rational explanation.
I mean, how can Nick possibly be a vampire? He walks around in daylight and certainly doesn’t sleep in a coffin. He’sone of the country's leading hypnotherapists!He’s got friends in high places, hastreated CEOs and Premiere League football players; he’s helped Becky Bullock off theEssex Showlose two stone. Oh, and he enjoys a glass of wine and going out to eat at expensive restaurants. If Nick is a vampire with a chronic blood dependency, then surely someone else would have noticed by now?
That’s what I tell myself, anyway.
“Hi, are you Steve Singleton’s next of kin?”
I glance up and see a tall, dark-haired man standing in the doorway of the waiting room. He’s holding a clipboard and dressed in a white laboratory-style coat with a stethoscope around his neck. He’s got a nice, friendly face and sort of reminds meof Tom Selleck.
“Are you Steve Singleton’s next of kin?” he repeats.
“Y-yes,” I stammer, getting to my feet. “I’m his daughter, Carly.”
The man steps forward and shakes my hand. “Pleased to meet you, Carly. I’m Dr Richard Noble, the Consultant Stroke Physician. I’ve been assigned to your father.”
“Great!” My smile begins to warm up. Now we’re getting somewhere. “Has my dad regained consciousness?”
“Yes. I’m pleased to say he’s making very good progress. You should be able to go in and see him in a minute, but I just need you to complete this form and discuss a couple of things with you. As his next of kin, we’ll need your contact details plus your authorisation to go ahead with further tests.”
“Tests? What sort of tests?”
“Perhaps you’d better sit down.” Obediently, I allow him to guide back to my seat. He pulls up a chair opposite and hands me a pen and a clipboard. “Now listen, there’s no easy way of saying this, but your father’s stroke may have quite serious long term implications.”
“Oh my God, but he’s going to live? Please tell me he’s going to live.”
The doctor pauses and lets his breath out slowly. “Yes, I’m confident he will live. So far, he’s responded well to treatment, but there are a few things you should know. Firstly, the stroke has left the whole right side of his body completely paralysed and at the moment, he has no feeling in his arm. The stroke has also affected his vision, so he’s seeing double and finds it very hard to co-ordinate his movements.”
“Jesus Christ! Are you saying he’ll never walk again? He’s paralysed for life?”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying. Please calm down. The symptoms I’ve described are actually quite common in stroke patients and part of our rehabilitation programme will involve trying to help him regain his mobility. But we can’t make any promises. It’s far too early to predict the extent to which his brain has been affected or what the long term effects on his quality of life will be. Your father’s stroke was caused bya massive clot which has impaired the arteries supplying blood to the brain. To treat this, we’re giving him aspirin along with a combination of other drugs to help thin his blood and hopefully dissolve the blockage. Remember every stroke is different and we have to treat each patient on a case by case basis. But for now, I’m pleased to report that your father seems coherent and I am hopeful he will make a full recovery.”
I bury my hands in my knees to stop them from shaking. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. My father’s condition sounds far worse than I imagined and it takes all of my strength not to break down in front of the doctor.
“When can I see him?” I whisper.
“As soon as you fill out this form,” Dr Noble replies. “We need your consent to run an MRI scan on him to help us determine the level of damage to the brain. Afterwards we’ll be able to give you a better picture of the way forward in terms of his treatment.”
I force a smile. “Okay.”
The doctor stands and heads for the door. “Right, I’ll leave you to complete the form, then I’ll send a nurse to fetch you and take you to see your father. Would you like a glass of water while you’re waiting?”
