Page 44 of The Flowers of Bay C
‘I had one a couple of years ago,’ I say.
‘I know. I have it here. I want to compare it, to see how we’re doing with treating you.’
‘Oh. Okay. Thank you.’
‘They should be here for you shortly.’
I know what ‘shortly’ means in hospital. It means hours, or perhaps days. But today the porter is here within half an hour, whistling and grinning and greeting Ernesto with a wink. It’s my rainbow hipster friend.
‘You still here?’ he says to me, whizzing a chair over to my bed and helping me into it. I wrap myself in my dressing gown and he drapes a blanket over my knees. ‘Bit cold out there in the halls today.’
In the radiography department it is busy, cluttered with patients in wheelchairs and on beds, and outpatients dressed in great big coats with the cold of the day imprinted on their cheeks. ‘Won’t be long,’ a nurse says to me, and I prepare for the long wait, pleased I remembered to grab my phone.
Messenger is clogged with a hundred messages all clamouring for my attention. Jen is there, asking me if I feel like another visit. I say yes, please, and wonder if she will come. Karen asks me if I feel better and when am I coming home. My online book group are discussingThe Midnight Libraryand they all have long opinions that scroll for miles. Jake’s class parents’ WhatsApp group are discussing the upcoming mock GCSEs, asking how long each other’s kids revise each night, how to balance their screen time, how to keep them active.
My own parenting is shipped out, left to my parents who didn’t like parenting me very much. They don’t care much about Jake’s screen time and certainly don’t police his revision. Another parenting fail, then. I shut down WhatsApp and scroll through a subreddit about parenting teenagers. Not a great idea.
An hour later I’m in the scanning room with my hospital gown on, loosely tied at the back. ‘I’m just going to inject a little bit of dye,’ the radiographer says. ‘It’s to help the doctor read the contrast in your lungs. You may feel like you need to go to the toilet, but don’t worry.’
I’m not worried about that, but I am worried about the scanner, the oversized polo mint they send me hurtling into. It wraps itself around my body and seals over my head, as though I am enclosed in a coffin and I can’t get out, even though the practical part of my brain knows it’s not that bad. The scanner powers up around me and lights whizz through their rotations, slowly at first. ‘Breathe in,’ the automated voice commands me, ‘hold your breath.’ I can’t, not for long, not for long enough, comeon please let me breathe out. Don’t worry, the radiographer says, her disembodied voice echoing through the tube, just hold it as long as you can.
That’s not long at all.
Whizz, whizz, revolutions of blazing brightness, over and over like rainbows pelting by at the speed of light, the low buzz of the scanner snaking through my bones. I am shaking, cold with fear and weariness. ‘Nearly done,’ the voice says after too long. I can’t hold out. My hands are rigid beside me on the trolley, quivering with the effort to avoid smashing out at the walls entombing me. My skin prickles with sweat.
‘Okay. All done.’
My journey out of the scanner feels as though it takes a thousand times longer than the one in.
‘We’ll send the scan to your doctor,’ the radiographer says kindly. ‘You look like you could do with a bit of sleep. Well done, I know it’s not always easy.’
‘Thank you. Sorry,’ I say.
‘What for?’
‘Just, um… being a bit useless in there.’
‘You’re not useless.’ Her eyes are lit in a weary smile. ‘You’re just ill.’
???
After lunch Jodie announces that she is going to take Barbara to the Peace Garden for a practice run, and that we are all coming with her. That’s me, Amina and Kat, at least. Violet is deathly pale, though less still than she was yesterday, propped up slightly on her bed. Her greying, brassy hair lies in damp stringy ribbons on her sweat-soaked brow. ‘I want to come,’ she says. ‘I need a cigarette.’
Jodie shakes her head. ‘No, you don’t.’
Sister Joystrolls into the bay, scanning one of the charts. ‘You all here still?’ Her smile is as warm as her name. ‘Can’t get rid of you lot, can we?’
Jodie is standing by Barbara’s bed. ‘I thought we’d take Barbara in the garden, like we talked about yesterday? The sun’s out for a change. And she’s all chipper today, aren’t you Barbara?’
Barbara is sitting in her chair, fiddling with her dressing gown belt. She does have a little more colour in her cheeks, and her eyes are bright. ‘I want to go in the garden,’ she says.
I’m glad it’s Sister Joy here today, not Sister Harris. I’m not sure she’d stand for any garden trip shenanigans.
‘I think that’s a wonderful idea,’ Joy says. ‘Give me a minute, and I’ll fetch a chair for her. Are you going too, Penny? Do you want a chair?’
‘Yes. I mean, yes, I’m going, but I can manage with a walker. Dan wants me to walk more, so…’
Joy bustles out of the ward, leaving the chart stranded on Amina’s bed.
