Gillian Jackson - The Accident

Sleep refused to come, to afford him just a few hours respite, and in the darkness, tears fell readily. The neck brace he’d worn in the ambulance had been replaced with an arm sling, put on in such a way as to keep his arm immobilised so he could only lie on his back, which, even with pillows propping him up, was uncomfortable. Even without the pain and heavy sorrow he was experiencing, the unfamiliar night-time sounds of the busy ward would have been enough to keep him awake.

Dawn was almost a welcome relief and Joe forced himself to eat, wanting to build up his strength to enable him to go home as soon as possible.

A doctor appeared in his room later that morning, with the look of a man who hadn’t slept, dark circles beneath his eyes, but his manner was professional and his voice soft and kind as he informed Joe that he could be discharged, but warned him to take his injuries seriously.

‘Keep the sling on for the next two weeks. We’ll do another X-ray then to make sure the bone is knitting together and hasn’t moved. It’s a bad break and will be swollen and quite painful for good while yet, so you must be careful not to use your arm. If the next X-ray’s all right, you can begin some gentle exercise, but we’ll talk about that when I see you again. I’ve written a prescription for some strong painkillers, they should help. I’m so sorry for your loss, Mr Parker. The ward sister has some leaflets which might be of interest to you.’

The doctor smiled sadly then left the room.

Joe knew he needed help to get dressed; he’d been unable to get to the bathroom earlier and much to his disgust had to use a bedpan. He didn’t know how he was going to manage at home on his own, but he did know that he wanted to get out of the hospital as quickly as possible.

Just when he was thinking through the logistics of attempting to get dressed, the ward sister appeared and pulled the curtains around his bed. She held a bundle of leaflets in her hand and sat down on the chair by his bed.

‘I know it’s going to be difficult for you, Joe, but there is help out there if you want to take it.’ She wasn’t just talking about the practicalities of his injuries, and spread the leaflets on the bed. ‘These are the contact details of a bereavement counselling service. They’re very good and you can self-refer at any time just by ringing this number. We can also get in touch with social services to have someone come to the house for a week or two, to help you with getting a shower, or making meals, if you’d like that?’

Joe shuddered. The thought of a stranger coming in to help him shower was abhorrent. He’d manage somehow, he wasn’t ancient and incapable yet. He politely declined and was given a number in case he changed his mind.

‘Right, well I’ll get your discharge letter and prescription ready now and a nurse will help you dress. Is there anyone I can phone to come and pick you up?’

Joe thought for a minute. ‘What about Alison, my wife? I mean, I know her body’s here and I’ll have to arrange a funeral, but is there a death certificate or something that I need?’

A look of sadness crossed the ward sister’s face. ‘I’m sorry, Joe, but Alison will have to stay here for the time being.’ She sat on the edge of the bed next to him and began to explain. ‘After a fatal accident like this the coroner becomes involved to determine exactly what happened and there’ll have to be an inquest. The death can’t be registered until after that, and so Alison’s body won’t be released for a funeral until then either. What we can do, is to give you the medical certificate of death for you to take to the coroner, who’ll then issue an interim death certificate, so you’ll be able to notify the banks and places like that.’

Joe was stunned; he’d assumed that he’d be able to arrange the funeral almost immediately and now it looked as if it was going to be a long, drawn-out process. He gathered his thoughts and remembered the sister’s earlier question.

‘Sorry, that’s come as a bit of a surprise, it’s not what I was expecting. Could you ring my neighbour for me? If there’s no answer I’ll get a taxi.’ He recited the number.

The ward sister nodded then smiled as she left him. They must see all sorts, he thought, surely he wasn’t the only one who was ignorant of procedure ... and had no one to take him home.

Joe’s clothes were in an appalling condition but unless he went home in a hospital gown he had no choice but to put them on. His wallet was still in the inside pocket of his jacket so at least he’d have some money to pay for a taxi if it was necessary, and someone had had the forethought to put his keys in the pocket too.

There were dark stains on his left-hand jacket sleeve. In the deepest recesses of his mind, Joe knew it was Alison’s blood but he refused to think about it, except to make the decision to burn all the clothes he’d been wearing yesterday when he got home. The events of the previous day seemed to be embedded into their very fabric; each fibre held the smell of burning rubber and crushed metal, reminding him of Ali’s death, when he wanted his memories of his wife to be only good ones.

There was no bag for Joe to pack; all he had was what he stood up in, and he looked like a vagrant.

The ward sister popped her head around the door again to tell him that Phil would be at the hospital within the hour.

True to his word, Phil walked into the ward forty minutes after he’d received the call. Joe was waiting; his discharge letter, pain medication and Alison’s medical death certificate, clutched to his chest. Phil’s expression reflected his sadness.

‘Joe, I don’t know what to say! We couldn’t believe it, and I’m so very sorry, Alison was the best ... it seems so bloody unfair.’

Joe was to hear similar sentiments over the weeks to come, but he knew Phil was sincere.

‘Come on, let’s get you home.’ Phil helped Joe to his feet and, conforming to hospital policy, steered him into a wheelchair and pushed him to the main exit. His car was parked in a pick-up zone nearby and as he settled Joe into the passenger seat he said, ‘Helen says you’d be very welcome to join us for a meal later, it’s going to be a bit difficult for you with that arm in a sling.’

‘Thanks, Phil, I appreciate the offer but for today I think I’d just like to be at home. Another time maybe? How’s Liffey? Has she been behaving for you?’

‘Oh yes, she’s no trouble, never is. We’ve been thinking about that too and we’ll walk her for you until you’re up to it yourself. Helen’s the early bird, so she’ll take her each morning and I’ll take her at night.’

‘That’s so kind of you both and I’ll happily accept your offer. I don’t think I’ll be up to much more than letting her in the garden for a while, but I wouldn’t like her to miss her exercise.’

‘Good, that’s settled then. And it goes without saying that if there’s anything at all we can do for you, just say the word.’

‘Thanks, that means a lot, and I might just have to take you up on it too. I’ll have to begin to sort out all of Ali’s affairs and to be honest it scares the hell out of me!’ Joe was close to tears but didn’t want to break down in front of his friend.

‘Well, we mean it, anything at all, mate.’

Within twenty minutes they were pulling up in front of Joe’s house. Phil ran round the car and opened the door, then, taking the keys from Joe’s hand, walked ahead to open the front door. He would never know what that little gesture meant to his neighbour. Joe had been dreading going into an empty house, knowing how cold and unwelcoming it would feel without Alison there waiting for him.

Almost as soon as they were inside, Helen appeared with Liffey who almost knocked her master down in her enthusiasm at seeing him. Joe sat on the sofa and stroked his dog with his good hand, trying to contain her excitement lest she knocked his injured arm. Helen, who would normally have hugged her neighbour, squeezed his hand gently,