This story and the next that will follow were inspired from my brief but important and influential time working at the, sadly now demolished, St. Luke's hospital in Guildford, Surrey when I was 18/19 years old.
I hope you enjoy them.
Very best wishes,
Philip
Betty
Just another three days to go. It surely wouldn’t be so difficult – and how she longed for a cigarette, just one. She had enacted the scenario over and over again; one flick of the lid, a deft tap on the bottom of the pack and two or three slender sticks sprouting up, the tallest sliding out and slipping into her fingers; light and draw – draw in that sweet heady comforter, the friend through thick and thin; placid, not demanding, just present, so much present, constant, constantly present, “God, damn it, why can’t I have just one? what the hell difference does it make anyway?” She scrunched up the coarse blue coverlet with her left hand and breathed hard. The pain was there, inert but immovable.
Opposite her bed the curtains were still drawn. There was always plenty of movement in the morning; bed baths, bed pans, porters with their long wooden poles to slide into the sleeves of the canvas stretchers and take away another patient for treatment; still drawn around the bed opposite; too long for a bed bath. She could see vague human forms pushing out momentarily as the nurses busied around the bed. They did their best, the nurses, but it didn’t fool anyone. At that moment you didn’t ask, you didn’t comment. She concentrated on the tea trolley steadily making its way down the ward. The tea lady was nice, friendly even, but she spoke with such an accent. Betty had given up trying to understand, but she appreciated the generous smile – the light in her eyes. She had even entertained the thought of acquiring an alibi and persuading her to smuggle her out for a cigarette; certainly the woman smoked, she could smell it on her breath, a faint delicious waft of nicotine – but she had long ago given up on the idea and it remained merely a vague fantasy.
Would the nurses really do what she had asked? They were so busy; friendly, yes; it seemed they only ever smiled – and why shouldn’t they? They were all mostly young and healthy, probably with boyfriends or husbands while she – but no, not that avenue, put those thoughts away Betty and concentrate on the plan – such a simple one, she knew she could do it.
“Everything all right, Betty?”
“Just fine, thank you!”
There we are. She’d said it again. What else were you supposed to say?
“Well, for someone with a life perspective of precisely nil …”
Focus, focus; she wanted it green; a lovely lurid green, just like she’d had for her wonderful 18th birthday – and what a party it had been! There were so many people and so many presents. Of course, there had been plenty of birthdays since, but that one simply shone out from the rest.
The world stops when you’re lying in a bed. It pulls in on all sides and presses in on you. This is all that’s left. This is it. There were no visitors, but she hadn’t really expected anyone. There was so much time to think – but what was the point? If she had been selfish most of her life – and she was pretty sure she had been – it wasn’t going to make much difference now.
The tea lady had passed. She was almost out of the ward. There was the blue cup and saucer and a digestive perched jauntily on the side. Had she slept? – she must have done, but then she was doing that most of the time. Often she had no concept of how long she was asleep or awake. The tea lay untouched. Betty was sleeping again.
“Everything’s set for this afternoon, Miss Cooper – and here are some lovely flowers – there’re from all of us on the ward”.
There was a pretty nurse beaming by the side of the bed and bright yellow chrysanthemums were bobbing about in front of her face.
“Already, already” she thought excitedly. “Oh my God, I’ve done it! Thank you so much, thank you, thank you!”
Tears were welling up in her eyes and she felt a huge one trickle down her right cheek.
“Oh, there now luv, don’t cry, this is supposed to be your birthday”
“And, and, what about the cake, is it really coming?”
“Yes, dear, in about an hour”
“And is it, is it green, like I asked?”
Betty sank back on the pillows.
There will be enough for everyone. Everyone will have a slice of my lovely cake – just like they did all those years ago. Oh God, I’ve done it – I’ve really done it.
A sudden flurry of movement near the entrance to the ward woke Betty up. A group of excited nurses were pushing something towards her on a trolley that squeaked and rocked slightly. It stopped in front of her. They were all smiling. What was she supposed to do? – And suddenly, there it was; huge, square and green, as green as the leaves of the chrysanthemums.
“We’ll cut it for you, Betty”
“Yes, yes, you do that” – Had she said that or did she just think it?
The cake moved away slightly and the nurses cut into the soft green icing. Little plates were being handed out all around the ward. Everyone was eating; everyone was eating Betty’s green cake, just like they did all those years ago.
A wonderful gentle calm seemed to settle over her – she felt it trickling into her pores and relaxing the muscles on her face. The palms of her hands lay face down by the side of her body. She slowly closed her eyes and breathed softly. All was well. All was really just fine.
********
Another busy morning, porters and nurses everywhere. The sounds of bed baths and commodes and the rattle of the tea trolley. Around one of the beds the curtains were still drawn and the vague shapes of human forms could be seen momentarily as the nurses busied around the bed…
---------------
Nenhum comentário:
Postar um comentário