Gillian Jackson - The Accident

After a week, Hannah was coping with much milder painkillers, generally only paracetamol with occasional ibuprofen. One thing she did learn was that the phenomenon of ‘phantom pains’ was a very real and distressing fact. At times she couldn’t sleep because of the ‘pain’ in her missing limb, or occasionally an itch, which was equally as bad. As she tossed and turned at night she grabbed at the empty space where her leg should have been, exasperated at the irrational, but very real, sensation.

After the first few days, physio was no longer conducted on her bed and Hannah was wheeled to the gym to use the parallel bars in order to help her stand, but was still required to exercise on her own in the ward, as well as the gym sessions. Crutches were introduced, but it was obviously going to take time to master using them as she was afraid of falling and damaging her bad leg, even though there was always someone close by to help if she toppled.

Going to the gym was, at least, a change of scenery, and she met other amputees who were at different stages of recovery to herself and with whom she could compare notes, and even, amazingly, have a laugh. One man who attended as an outpatient and had already been fitted with a prosthetic leg told her how he’d fallen in the bathroom.

‘When I got out of the bath and was sitting on the edge to get dried, I simply forgot that I only had one leg and, silly sod that I am, set off on the missing leg and ended up flat on my face!’ He was laughing about it and Hannah found herself joining in. The physio said that most patients did that at least once. Perhaps she too would one day see the funny side of losing her leg.

One of the most difficult things for Hannah to accept was the reaction of her children. Sam was very quiet during their visits, still unsure of what to say to his mother, which was to be expected for a seventeen-year-old boy. Mel was almost too gushing, probably trying to compensate for her brother’s silence by filling the void with endless chatter. Mike’s reaction was somewhere in between. When the children were there he made the effort to talk but when there was just the two of them, he lapsed into an almost moody silence; it was as if neither of them could think of anything to say.

‘The physio said I should be able to manage the stairs on my bottom,’ Hannah told him, ‘and using crutches and a wheelchair in the house shouldn’t be too much of a problem.’

It was a disappointment to learn that it would be several weeks before she could be fitted with a prosthetic leg; in her ignorance of such matters Hannah had assumed it would simply be a process of getting one to fit, perhaps even before she left the hospital. She’d soon learned that it was a much more complicated process and measurements couldn’t be taken until her leg had reduced to its normal size.

Her husband simply nodded, which didn’t make things any easier for her. She wished he’d be more positive; say how much he was missing her or something, and encourage her in the little achievements she’d already made. He gave the distinct impression that he was dreading Hannah leaving the hospital, which worried her every bit as much as the practical issues she would have to cope with.

On the morning of day eleven (Hannah had been counting religiously), the doctor said she could go home the following day, and her care would be transferred to a district nurse who would call at their home each day. Mixed feelings flooded her mind. On the positive side, she was sure there would be more chance of rest at home; the hospital was always busy and often noisy, even at night, and she did get unbelievably tired. But what if she fell when no one was there, or the pain became unbearable?

When the family arrived later that evening Hannah told them what the doctor had said.

‘That’s great, Mum!’ Mel seemed genuinely happy and Sam smiled broadly.

‘Isn’t it a bit too soon?’ Mike asked.

‘They wouldn’t let me go if they thought I wasn’t ready,’ Hannah almost snapped back at him, wondering if perhaps he didn’t actually want her home.

‘Right.’ He switched into practical mode. ‘They told me at work I could take some time off when I needed it, so I’ll take it from tomorrow and come to get you after lunch.’

Hannah hoped the children hadn’t picked up on the cool atmosphere between their parents. For many, this kind of situation would strengthen a relationship, but for them it appeared to be working in quite the opposite way; an invisible wedge seemed to be prising them even further apart than they’d been of late.

‘Well, I’ve made a decision, Mum.’ Mel announced with a nervous smile on her face. ‘I’ve decided not to go to university, but to stay at home to look after you instead!’

‘What?’ Hannah couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. ‘You’re not serious, are you?’

‘Of course I am! You’re far more important than university, and maybe I can get a part time job and be around the rest of the time to look after you.’

‘But I’m not going to be a complete invalid! I’ll get a prosthetic leg in a few weeks’ time and you won’t need to look after me!’ Hannah reacted rather too quickly and saw tears begin to well in her daughter’s eyes. Mel’s ambition in life for many years had been to train as a journalist and now she was prepared to throw it all away to care for her mother. Hannah was touched and proud, as well as horrified that she might be an obstacle to her daughter’s aspirations.

‘Oh, Mel love, I’m sorry. I’m really grateful for your concern but the last thing I want is for you to give up university! I love you for even thinking about it, but that’s not what I want for you; it wouldn’t be right.’

She reached out to her daughter and Mel fell into her mother’s arms and released the tears she’d so far held back. It struck Hannah then just how badly this had affected her children. As she held her daughter, Sam shuffled closer too and put his arms around her and his sister, tears in his own eyes.

They were all grieving, grief which perhaps manifested in different ways. The children were hardly mature enough to deal with what had happened to their mother and none of them as yet knew the full implications of the accident, or what the future held. While Hannah comforted her children, Mike sat to the side, an observer, a fact which didn’t go unnoticed by Hannah and only added to her worries. Maybe she didn’t really want to know what the future had in store for them.

The amber liquid swirled around the glass in his hand, the winter sunshine enhancing its translucent colour, mesmerizing Joe as he studied the whisky. ‘ No alcohol with the painkillers ’, the doctor had emphasised, but what was the worst that could happen? Surely it already had! Joe deliberately put the glass down on the coffee table where he could see it while he decided whether or not to drink it.

After his neighbours left the previous afternoon, Joe dragged himself wearily upstairs to remove his dirty clothes. It was such an effort that he could only manage to drag on his pyjamas rather than a fresh set of clothes; he would like to live in their comfort until he felt better, there seemed to be nothing and no one to get dressed for.

Phil returned promptly at 6pm, with a generous portion of Helen’s casserole, and took Liffey for a walk as promised. Joe had been sitting in the dark so Phil closed the curtains and turned on the light, without comment. Out of politeness, Joe attempted to eat the casserole while Phil was out, but ended up putting most of it into Liffey’s bowl; she would enjoy it at least.

The next morning, Helen arrived early to again walk Liffey, and when she returned made a pot of tea and toasted some bread. But now it was mid-morning, the tea and toast were cold and the whisky looked so inviting. The doorbell rang before he took the first sip and Phil called out to him.