Sunday 6 July 2014
'What's Next I Wonder?' - the musings of a homeless woman: When I started writing this blog three months ago,...
'What's Next I Wonder?' - the musings of a homeless woman: When I started writing this blog three months ago,...: .............. HAPPY!............and actually I have been for a while. I've found somewhere new to live and a peacefulness and conte...
Saturday 5 July 2014
When I started writing this blog three months ago, who would have thought that today I would be.............................
.............. HAPPY!............and actually I have been for a while. I've found somewhere new to live and a peacefulness and contentment has crept over me without really being aware it was happening.
I was walking the dogs this this morning and even though it was raining, I gave a silent thanks to the universe for bringing me such a beautiful morning. I'm healthy, mostly solvent and I have my chickens and Ruby back with me :O) Life rarely gets better than this.
'Dogs?', I hear you say, confused. Yes, dogs! The owner of the lovely house I'm now living in has a beautiful, sweet natured lab called Zorro and it's my privilege to walk him with Ruby, every day. They have both played a part in my recovery and my positive state of mind.
Happiness, of course, is just a state of mind. I've always been a great believer that we chose how we feel; situations happen, good or bad and our response to them is a choice. Over simplification? Possibly.
Actually, looking back I wasn't unhappy when the breakup occurred. I was steaming mad that TT had left me with HIS debts and homeless to boot. And I was as scared as I have ever been, having never experience anything like it before. It took me many weeks to feel safe again and that was largely down to the creditors agreeing not to lynch me and having a few pennies in my pocket.
As the weeks passed, I found myself actually enjoying my situation. I was FREE! Free from the tyranny of a nasty individual who had tried to control every aspect of my life. Free to make my own decisions and to steer my own destiny. Free from 7 years of fear: he had taken everything I had, every penny I had worked hard for and I was terrified about that; terrified of being left with nothing.
Of course, that is was actually happened, but the fear of it was far worse than the realty. I should have walked out years ago. I should have packed up and left, the minute I discovered he wasn't the man he had pretended to be. I had been bowled over by his charm and wit and intelligence. He was wonderful and he was in love with me! Except that he wasn't. He is incapable of love. His sole aim is always manipulation. You have something he wants - money, shelter, sex and he will tell you whatever you need to hear, in order to get it. By the time I had realised what was happening, I was so in debt I couldn't leave.
A word of advice to anyone who who meets a charmer; a man who seems almost too good to be true. The man who turns up just when you need him and sweeps you of your feet - you may have been alone for a while and looking for a new start, you may be miserable after the breakdown of a relationship. Whatever the circumstances - BE WARY! The sociopath will seek you out. You are just what he is looking for. He knows exactly how to make you feel good BUT, your instinct will be trying to tell you something. Mine was. In fact, I can now admit to myself, it was screaming.....I had doubts about him from the very start but chose to ignore them because I wanted to trust him so badly. I wanted to believe that he was my soul mate. After all, hadn't he written to me and told me so?
We did share an amazing number of interests. In fact it was astonishing how similar we were in every way...............except we didn't and we weren't. It was all just a ploy. The sociopath seems so interested, if not fascinated by you. He wants to know every detail; all your hopes and fears and dreams. Then he uses that information to get exactly what he wants. He has no feelings, is incapable of love, pity, guilt or empathy and he doesn't care one jot about anyone other than himself.
I would say though, and this might sound absolutely crazy, but serves to show how completely brainwashed I was. The years he spent bleeding me dry and robbing me of my existence were probably some of the happiest of my life. How sad is that? I was so completely taken in by him, that while he, systematically stripped me of me assets and ran my credit cards to max, I smiled sweetly and told him how much I loved him.
There, had, of course been clues along the way; instances when I suspected he was lying or glimpses of the monster beneath the thin veneer and times when my trust of him was questioned. But I always made some kind of excuse for him and willed myself to trust him further.....I have learned a very hard lesson.....
Your trust is your most precious possession. Be careful who you give it to.
Sunday 15 June 2014
'What's Next I Wonder?' - the musings of a homeless woman: I haven't written anything for a while .....for wh...
'What's Next I Wonder?' - the musings of a homeless woman: I haven't written anything for a while .....for wh...: I haven't written anything for a while .....for which I apologise! But I have been writing - the book is underway full steam ahead! I ...
I haven't written anything for a while .....for which I apologise! But I have been writing - the book is underway full steam ahead!
I thought I would share a chapter - do remember that this is a first, unedited draft, so be kind :O)
Please comment freely - all feedback appreciated - even negative.
Alison ran to the mirror hanging on the far wall of the workshop. Even as she approached it she could see that her face was disappearing; in fact her whole head was transparent. She gasped and stared, unbelieving, at her image in the mirror. As she watched it faded slowly, until all she could see was Harry's startled face, looking at her with wide, frightened eyes, from the other side of the room.
'Where did she go?' said Harry and he rushed across the workshop towards the mirror, knocking a stool over in his haste. Half way there he collided with his invisible mother and Alison grabbed hold of his arms to steady him.
'It's alright Harry I'm still here', she said softly in his ear, 'it's just a bit more of Brigit's mischief.'
'Not mine actually', said Brigit, picking up the stool and placing back beside the bench, ' The dust was created by Merlin many years ago and has been sitting in that cupboard over there just waiting for an occasion to be useful. I think its time has come, don't you?'
'This is so weird', said Harry. He reached up to touch his mother's face with an outstretched hand.
'Ow', said Alison, 'you just poked your finger in my eye!'
Harry laughed, placed his arms around her and kissed an invisible cheek 'Sorry mum,' he said a little shakily, I don't like not being able to see you, it makes me feel a bit funny.
'Awww sweetie, 'she replied, 'it will be fine, don't worry'. She hugged him back and planted a kiss on his forehead. Lately, while all the madness had been happening, she come to regard him as so grown up; almost an equal in many ways. But now, looking at his worried face, she realised he was still just a boy.
'How long will this last', she said to Brigit as they approached the bench arm in arm.
'Not long', said Brigit, ' you only used a little sprinkle and its the amount of dust which determines how long the effect lasts. My guess is you will be appearing again any second and actually, I wish you would hurry up. Seeing Harry walking around with his arm hanging in mid air is most unnerving.'
Harry looked at his arm, which was indeed hanging in mid air and curved gently, as if he were taking part in some kind of medieval dance. He dropped his arm to his side looking foolish and blushing slightly.
Suddenly a commotion erupted in the hall as the front door of the cottage was flung open and banged, noisily against the wall. They all turned, startled, as Moon and Jotiko supported a bloodied and staggering Dr Erp, along the hall and into the workshop. Moon was carrying the doctor's bag, which she placed on the bench with a thump as she passed by.
"Oh my goodness,' said Brigit, 'bring him over here.' She pointed to one of the easy chairs beside the coffee table.
Dr Erp slumped into the chair looking grey and haggard; his face was streaked with blood and his mouth hung open, revealing stained and crooked teeth. His trademark purple topper was missing and his grey hair, which had come loose from its pony tail, stuck to his head, in wet and greasy looking, rat's tails. The whole of his chest was covered in blood and the front of his yellow silk waistcoat had been slashed to ribbons and his pocket watch chain, with its perfect silver acorn, no longer dangled from its pockets. Dr Erp's head lolled forward onto his chest and he gave a low moan which chilled Alison to the core and stirred her to action. She ran to the kitchen sink and began filling the washing up bowl with warm water, then she opened and closed draws, looking for cloths and bandages.
Jotiko looked over to the sink and raised one eyebrow in contemplation. 'I would guess that either we have got ourselves a very helpful poltergeist or you have been playing with Merlin's dust,' he said to Brigit, smiling.
Brigit pulled a face, 'go and make yourself useful instead of making jokes, he's going to need stitches and some local anaesthetic.' She picked up a small wooden stool, put it beside the chair containing Dr Erp and sat on it. She leaned forward and took his hand and said gently, 'can you hear me Errapel, are you alright?'
The Dr didn't move for a moment and then he nodded slowly and grimaced as he tried to re-adjust his position on the chair. He opened his eyes slowly and looked down at his bleeding chest.
'Bit of a mess, dear lady,' he said and his head fell back against the chair as he lost consciousness once more.
Brigit stood up and began unbuttoning Dr Erp's waistcoat and the shirt beneath. Her fingers quickly became covered in blood and she looked up to where Harry was still standing. He hadn't moved an inch since the drama began unfolding before him and his eyes looked glazed and shocked.
"Harry,' Brigit said in a firm voice, 'bring me a towel quickly and help your mum with the water.'
Harry didn't move but continued to stare ahead of him, blankly. Moon took hold of his shoulders and gave him a little shake.
'Harry,' she said, a look of concern evident on her face, ' Harry, we need you to focus, go and help your mum, quickly.
He looked at her, at first a look of total incomprehension and then his eyes cleared and he gave a little smile before turning and joining, a still invisible, Alison at then sink. She handed him the steaming, washing up bowl and placed a towel over his arm and he returned rapidly to Brigit, who was now, with the help of Moon, removing Dr Erp's shirt. Brigit pulled his arm from the torn and bloody shirt and then tossed it onto the floor to join his jacket and ruined waistcoat. She smiled at Harry as he put the bowl at her feet and placed the towel on the arm of the chair.
'Go into the dining room,' Brigit said to him, 'You'll find a trolley, one of those hostessy things on wheels, bring it here and help Jotiko set it up, there's a good boy.'
Harry wheeled around and almost ran from the room; grateful to have something to do and also to be away from the awful scene, if only for a minute. Of all the things he had seen so far, for some reason this was by far the worst. He liked Dr Erp; had become his good friend and to see him injured like this was more than Harry could bear. He spotted the trolley in the corner of the dining room and spent a couple of seconds removing books, which had been piled onto its surface, onto the floor. As he worked he remembered the time spent under the canopy and Dr Erp's funny jokes and laughter. The man had a way of making everything seem ok; he had a gift, not only of healing bodies but also of healing souls. When Dr Erp was around anything seemed possible and all was right with the world. Harry pushed the trolley from the dining room and returned to the workshop, as he walked he gave a deep sigh and shook his head sadly. He realised, suddenly, that if anything happened to Dr Erp, the lives of every one of them who knew and loved him, would never be the same again.
As Harry entered the workshop, Jotiko turned and gesticulated for him to hurry with the trolley. He pushed it over to the bench and Jotiko immediately started cleaning the surface with a cloth which had a pungent smell and reminded Harry of a visit to the hospital when he was five years old. He had fallen and cut his leg on a old broken bottle. The wound had needed four stitches and Harry remembered the nurse putting each one in very carefully and room smelling exactly the same as the cloth used by Jotiko, now discarded on the bench. He watched as Jotiko loaded the trolley with everything he thought Brigit might need: there were bandages of various sizes; a roll of sticking plaster; a pile of square, gauze swabs in a glass bowl to one side of the surface and several bottles of strange coloured liquids on the other. Jotiko rooted around in Dr Erp's large leather bag, his head almost disappearing inside and pulled out two white paper packets with writing on the side. As he placed them on the trolley Harry read 'toothed forceps' and 'needle driver'. Next to those he placed a metal kidney dish containing several packets of suture material, a syringe with a covered needle and bottle which read, 'Lidocaine Anaesthetic'. Lastly, Jotiko pulled several packets of sterile, latex gloves out of the bag and placed those carefully next to the packets of forceps, along with an oblong shaped paper packet which Harry saw was marked 'dressing pack'
Jotiko wheeled the trolley and placed it next to Brigit. She and Moon were still cleaning Dr Erp's chest of the blood and mud and they passed the cloths to Alison, who handed them a fresh one and rinsed the bloodied ones in the kitchen bowl.
Harry realised, with a start that he could see his mum once more. Her cloak and harness had been discarded on the chair next to the one occupied by Dr Erp and the sleeves of her shirt were rolled up to the elbows.
She turned to look at him as he approached and he said, 'Nice to have you back again, I didn't like it when I couldn't see where you were'.
'I didn't like it either', she replied, 'I'll only be using that stuff if I absolutely need to.'
'Well, let's hope that you don't need to', said a weary sounding Dr Erp, 'and if you wouldn't mind, young man, a drink of water would be splendid'.
Harry heaved a sigh of relief that Dr Erp was conscious and went to get him a glass of water from the sink. Brigit was right behind him and as soon as he had finished filling the glass, she started to wash her hands with gusto.
'Like to assist me?', she said, turning off the taps and reaching for a towel to dry her hands 'I need someone with a steady hand to cut the sutures.
'Oh yes please,' said Harry immediately, but then he stopped and looked a little less sure of himself. 'Will it be very gruesome?', he asked tentatively.
'You'll be fine', said Brigit, smiling, 'now go and give him his water before the old bear starts grumbling'.
Harry returned with the glass of water, with Brigit, once more, close behind him. He handed the glass to the doctor, who drank the water down in one go. He handed the glass back to Harry and smiled a weak smile before closing his eyes and resting his head on the back of the chair.
'Now then Harry', said Brigit, 'to business.' She picked up two packets of sterile gloves from the trolley and carried them back to work bench. She picked up her glasses from the bench, put them on and peered at the packets. She handed one to Harry.
'That size should be right for you, just do what I do to get them on right'.
She opened the pack and tipped the inner sleeve onto the workbench then opened one half, revealing the silicone glove inside. It was almost inside out; the outer rim turned back on itself so that it covered the fingers and thumb of the glove. She nodded to Harry who followed her lead and did everything that she had done before. When his glove was also revealed, she picked hers up and swiftly and expertly pulled it onto her hand.
'Now be careful Harry, remember that the gloves are sterile and once on your hand, its very important that you don't touch anything.'
'Ok', said Harry and picked up his glove carefully. He tried to fit it on his hand but was dismayed when the glove suddenly catapulted away and landed on the floor on the other side of the bench. He blushed to the roots of his hair and looked sheepishly at Brigit.
'Never mind', she said, 'it can be a bit tricky to get the hang of. Moon can you pass Harry another set of gloves please?'
Moon selected what she thought was the right size glove and brought them over, opening the packet as she came. She tipped the inner sleeve onto the bench and watched as Harry opened the paper to reveal the glove once more. He gave a deep sigh and picked it up, this time holding onto it firmly while he squeezed his hand inside. It was a tight fit but finally, it was in place and Harry held it up for Brigit to see.
'Very good,' she said turned back to the bench. 'Now this ones even more tricky, so watch carefully. Remember that your glove is sterile, so you don't want to touch anything except the other glove.'
Harry watched as she placed her fingers inside the folded bit of the glove to pick it up and then pushed her other hand into it, taking care that her gloved hand didn't touch any part of her bare skin.
She spent a few seconds entwining her fingers to push the gloves on fully and when she was finally satisfied, she turned to Harry.
'Your turn', she said and silently watched as Harry repeated her actions. He picked up the glove in the way that she had shown him and then slid his hand inside, letting go of the rim with a 'smack' against his wrist when the glove was in place. He smiled at Brigit and the others.
'Now you are just showing off', said Brigit, frowning, 'come one, there's no time to waste in horseplay, we have a man to sew up! Keep your hands up Harry so you don't touch anything accidentally.
She moved back to Dr Erp's side and instructed Moon to open the dressing pack. Moon complied and tipped out the inner pack onto the surface of the trolley. Brigit opened the pack and removed a surgical drape which she placed over Dr Erp's abdomen. The dressing pack also contained two plastic gallipots which Brigit picked up and placed at the edge of the sterile paper field she had created with the inner portion of the pack. She inclined her head which was a cue to Jotiko to fill the pots from the bottles he had placed on the trolley earlier. Alison recognised the brown liquid in the first pot as iodine, which she knew was used by surgeons when the did operations, to clean the skin but the clear green liquid, which Jotiko poured into the second pot, was a mystery to her.
'What's the green stuff', she said leaning forward and sniffing the air.
'Ah, that's a concoction of mine own', said Dr Erp, opening his eyes for the first time in at least five minutes. 'It's a delicate mixture of Hypericum perforatum and Achillea millefolium. You might know them better as 'St John's Wort and 'Yarrow'. When combined they make a very effective mixture which staunches blood flow and promotes healing. You have to get the quantities just right, of course otherwise you might as well not have bothered. An excellent choice, Brigit'.
'You taught me well, old friend,' said Brigit. She smiled at him and then looked down once more at the wound, 'Now then, I'm going to have to give this a good old clean now, so grit your teeth, there's a good man'.
She picked up a gauze swab and dipped it into the iodine, making sure the whole thing was soaked. She transferred it, dripping, to the gaping wound and began cleaning out mud and debris that had become trapped there after Dr Erp had fallen to the ground. Brigit examined the wound thoroughly as she worked. It was deep; right down into the muscle layer covering Dr Erp's chest. And it gaped horribly; the edges of skin were at least five centimetres apart and the whole thing must have measured twenty centimetres in length. It ran from Dr Erp's shoulder right across his chest and ended almost at the bottom of his ribs.
It's a very impressive wound I must say', said Brigit, and began applying Dr Erp's clear, green concoction with another swab, 'another centimetre and I think I might have been pushing your heart back in through your rib cage!'
She discarded the swab into a waste bin Jotiko had placed beside her for the purpose and picked up the needle and syringe that Moon had just opened onto the paper. She swiftly drew up the local anaesthetic and began injecting the edges of the wound.
Dr Erp gave a low chuckle while wincing with pain at every touch of the needle 'Much as I appreciate your wonderful humour under normal circumstances, my dear lady, I'd be really grateful if you could keep it to a minimum just at the moment'.
Brigit looked at Harry and gave him a wink. 'Very important to keep the patient's spirits up, my boy......very important.' She turned to Moon. 'I need those instruments and the sutures opening now dear please, needle holder first, there's a good girl'.
Moon did as instructed and opened the outer packaging of the instruments and then dropped them into the sterile field. She then opened several packs of suture material and did the same. Brigit picked up the needle holder and the first suture needle and clamped it in place with a satisfying snap.
'Harry, take hold of the scissors, it's now time for your bit of the action!'.
Harry did as he was told. He stood on the opposite side of the chair from Brigit, hovering over both her and the patient and he was holding the scissors out in front of him. Alison, watching from the back of the chair, could see a thin film of sweat upon his face and his hand trembling gently.
'Are you alright, Harry?' she said, 'you look a bit pale.
Harry nodded, tight lipped but didn't say anything. Alison smiled and imagined his teeth clamped tightly together in the effort to remain composed.
Dr Erp gave a little moan and shuffled in the chair, 'You are doing a sterling job,' he whispered to Harry with eyes closed, 'don't feel bad if your faint my lad, most do the very first time'.
Harry nodded again. 'I'm ok', he said in a very quiet voice, 'just let me be and I'll be fine'.
'Good man', said Dr Erp, 'good man.'
Brigit picked up the toothed forceps and leaned over Dr Erp's chest. She lifted the flap of skin and had inserted the first stitch so quickly that Harry was surprised when she looked up at him expectantly.
'Come on Harry, keep up', she said and chuckled, 'at this rate I'll have the next one in before you get to do your bit'.
Harry grinned sheepishly and reached out to snip the sutures. His hand trembled badly and it took a monumental effort of will the steady it enough to cut the suture. But he did it, and then stood up straight to admire his handiwork.
'Well done', said Brigit,' now focus, because this is going to be quick. Moon, open two more packs of suture please, this is going to take a lot of stitching, at least fifty I would say.'
Brigit whizzed through the rest of the suturing in record time. When she had finished and stood up to ease her aching back, sixty two neat black stitches marches across Dr Erp's chest like a line of ants in search of food.
'Well done Brigit, lovely job,' said Jotiko, 'shall I finish up?'
'Yes please', she replied and removed her gloves, discarding them into the bin. She collapsed with a huge sigh into the armchair opposite Dr Erp. Her face looked pinched and drawn; weariness evident in every line. She leaned back in the chair and ran a hand through her long, grey hair, while the others busied themselves clearing the debris left in the wake of the suturing. Jotkio was leaning over Dr Erp and applying dressings and a bandage to the wound and made tea while Harry stood beside her looking dazed and tired.
'Go to bed Harry, you look wrecked', she said and gave him a brief hug before turning to the boiled kettle. He nodded and without another word, left the workshop and went silently to his room.
Once Jotiko was satisfied with his handiwork he hauled Dr Erp to his feet and with the help of Moon, walked him gently out of the workshop also. Within a few minutes they were back and both slumped immediately into the waiting armchairs.
Alison placed mugs of steaming tea in front of each person and was acknowledged with a smile from each. She sat down and noticed for the first time how dishevelled and dirty both Moon and Jotiko were. Their clothes were streaked with blood and Jotiko had acquired yet another cut on his face.
Brigit sipped from her mug of tea and then held it between both hands savouring the reassuring warmth against her skin.
'What happened?' she said, glancing at Moon and then Jotiko, 'how on earth did Erp manage to get such a horrible injury?'
Moon looked at Jotiko and he gave a silent nod. She leaned back in the chair, gave a sigh and rubbed her eyes for a moment and returned to a waiting Brigit.
'It was Excalibur'.....she said, wearily.....the Black Knight has Excalibur.
I thought I would share a chapter - do remember that this is a first, unedited draft, so be kind :O)
Please comment freely - all feedback appreciated - even negative.
Alison ran to the mirror hanging on the far wall of the workshop. Even as she approached it she could see that her face was disappearing; in fact her whole head was transparent. She gasped and stared, unbelieving, at her image in the mirror. As she watched it faded slowly, until all she could see was Harry's startled face, looking at her with wide, frightened eyes, from the other side of the room.
'Where did she go?' said Harry and he rushed across the workshop towards the mirror, knocking a stool over in his haste. Half way there he collided with his invisible mother and Alison grabbed hold of his arms to steady him.
'It's alright Harry I'm still here', she said softly in his ear, 'it's just a bit more of Brigit's mischief.'
'Not mine actually', said Brigit, picking up the stool and placing back beside the bench, ' The dust was created by Merlin many years ago and has been sitting in that cupboard over there just waiting for an occasion to be useful. I think its time has come, don't you?'
'This is so weird', said Harry. He reached up to touch his mother's face with an outstretched hand.
'Ow', said Alison, 'you just poked your finger in my eye!'
Harry laughed, placed his arms around her and kissed an invisible cheek 'Sorry mum,' he said a little shakily, I don't like not being able to see you, it makes me feel a bit funny.
'Awww sweetie, 'she replied, 'it will be fine, don't worry'. She hugged him back and planted a kiss on his forehead. Lately, while all the madness had been happening, she come to regard him as so grown up; almost an equal in many ways. But now, looking at his worried face, she realised he was still just a boy.
'How long will this last', she said to Brigit as they approached the bench arm in arm.
'Not long', said Brigit, ' you only used a little sprinkle and its the amount of dust which determines how long the effect lasts. My guess is you will be appearing again any second and actually, I wish you would hurry up. Seeing Harry walking around with his arm hanging in mid air is most unnerving.'
Harry looked at his arm, which was indeed hanging in mid air and curved gently, as if he were taking part in some kind of medieval dance. He dropped his arm to his side looking foolish and blushing slightly.
Suddenly a commotion erupted in the hall as the front door of the cottage was flung open and banged, noisily against the wall. They all turned, startled, as Moon and Jotiko supported a bloodied and staggering Dr Erp, along the hall and into the workshop. Moon was carrying the doctor's bag, which she placed on the bench with a thump as she passed by.
"Oh my goodness,' said Brigit, 'bring him over here.' She pointed to one of the easy chairs beside the coffee table.
Dr Erp slumped into the chair looking grey and haggard; his face was streaked with blood and his mouth hung open, revealing stained and crooked teeth. His trademark purple topper was missing and his grey hair, which had come loose from its pony tail, stuck to his head, in wet and greasy looking, rat's tails. The whole of his chest was covered in blood and the front of his yellow silk waistcoat had been slashed to ribbons and his pocket watch chain, with its perfect silver acorn, no longer dangled from its pockets. Dr Erp's head lolled forward onto his chest and he gave a low moan which chilled Alison to the core and stirred her to action. She ran to the kitchen sink and began filling the washing up bowl with warm water, then she opened and closed draws, looking for cloths and bandages.
Jotiko looked over to the sink and raised one eyebrow in contemplation. 'I would guess that either we have got ourselves a very helpful poltergeist or you have been playing with Merlin's dust,' he said to Brigit, smiling.
Brigit pulled a face, 'go and make yourself useful instead of making jokes, he's going to need stitches and some local anaesthetic.' She picked up a small wooden stool, put it beside the chair containing Dr Erp and sat on it. She leaned forward and took his hand and said gently, 'can you hear me Errapel, are you alright?'
The Dr didn't move for a moment and then he nodded slowly and grimaced as he tried to re-adjust his position on the chair. He opened his eyes slowly and looked down at his bleeding chest.
'Bit of a mess, dear lady,' he said and his head fell back against the chair as he lost consciousness once more.
Brigit stood up and began unbuttoning Dr Erp's waistcoat and the shirt beneath. Her fingers quickly became covered in blood and she looked up to where Harry was still standing. He hadn't moved an inch since the drama began unfolding before him and his eyes looked glazed and shocked.
"Harry,' Brigit said in a firm voice, 'bring me a towel quickly and help your mum with the water.'
Harry didn't move but continued to stare ahead of him, blankly. Moon took hold of his shoulders and gave him a little shake.
'Harry,' she said, a look of concern evident on her face, ' Harry, we need you to focus, go and help your mum, quickly.
He looked at her, at first a look of total incomprehension and then his eyes cleared and he gave a little smile before turning and joining, a still invisible, Alison at then sink. She handed him the steaming, washing up bowl and placed a towel over his arm and he returned rapidly to Brigit, who was now, with the help of Moon, removing Dr Erp's shirt. Brigit pulled his arm from the torn and bloody shirt and then tossed it onto the floor to join his jacket and ruined waistcoat. She smiled at Harry as he put the bowl at her feet and placed the towel on the arm of the chair.
'Go into the dining room,' Brigit said to him, 'You'll find a trolley, one of those hostessy things on wheels, bring it here and help Jotiko set it up, there's a good boy.'
Harry wheeled around and almost ran from the room; grateful to have something to do and also to be away from the awful scene, if only for a minute. Of all the things he had seen so far, for some reason this was by far the worst. He liked Dr Erp; had become his good friend and to see him injured like this was more than Harry could bear. He spotted the trolley in the corner of the dining room and spent a couple of seconds removing books, which had been piled onto its surface, onto the floor. As he worked he remembered the time spent under the canopy and Dr Erp's funny jokes and laughter. The man had a way of making everything seem ok; he had a gift, not only of healing bodies but also of healing souls. When Dr Erp was around anything seemed possible and all was right with the world. Harry pushed the trolley from the dining room and returned to the workshop, as he walked he gave a deep sigh and shook his head sadly. He realised, suddenly, that if anything happened to Dr Erp, the lives of every one of them who knew and loved him, would never be the same again.
As Harry entered the workshop, Jotiko turned and gesticulated for him to hurry with the trolley. He pushed it over to the bench and Jotiko immediately started cleaning the surface with a cloth which had a pungent smell and reminded Harry of a visit to the hospital when he was five years old. He had fallen and cut his leg on a old broken bottle. The wound had needed four stitches and Harry remembered the nurse putting each one in very carefully and room smelling exactly the same as the cloth used by Jotiko, now discarded on the bench. He watched as Jotiko loaded the trolley with everything he thought Brigit might need: there were bandages of various sizes; a roll of sticking plaster; a pile of square, gauze swabs in a glass bowl to one side of the surface and several bottles of strange coloured liquids on the other. Jotiko rooted around in Dr Erp's large leather bag, his head almost disappearing inside and pulled out two white paper packets with writing on the side. As he placed them on the trolley Harry read 'toothed forceps' and 'needle driver'. Next to those he placed a metal kidney dish containing several packets of suture material, a syringe with a covered needle and bottle which read, 'Lidocaine Anaesthetic'. Lastly, Jotiko pulled several packets of sterile, latex gloves out of the bag and placed those carefully next to the packets of forceps, along with an oblong shaped paper packet which Harry saw was marked 'dressing pack'
Jotiko wheeled the trolley and placed it next to Brigit. She and Moon were still cleaning Dr Erp's chest of the blood and mud and they passed the cloths to Alison, who handed them a fresh one and rinsed the bloodied ones in the kitchen bowl.
Harry realised, with a start that he could see his mum once more. Her cloak and harness had been discarded on the chair next to the one occupied by Dr Erp and the sleeves of her shirt were rolled up to the elbows.
She turned to look at him as he approached and he said, 'Nice to have you back again, I didn't like it when I couldn't see where you were'.
'I didn't like it either', she replied, 'I'll only be using that stuff if I absolutely need to.'
'Well, let's hope that you don't need to', said a weary sounding Dr Erp, 'and if you wouldn't mind, young man, a drink of water would be splendid'.
Harry heaved a sigh of relief that Dr Erp was conscious and went to get him a glass of water from the sink. Brigit was right behind him and as soon as he had finished filling the glass, she started to wash her hands with gusto.
'Like to assist me?', she said, turning off the taps and reaching for a towel to dry her hands 'I need someone with a steady hand to cut the sutures.
'Oh yes please,' said Harry immediately, but then he stopped and looked a little less sure of himself. 'Will it be very gruesome?', he asked tentatively.
'You'll be fine', said Brigit, smiling, 'now go and give him his water before the old bear starts grumbling'.
Harry returned with the glass of water, with Brigit, once more, close behind him. He handed the glass to the doctor, who drank the water down in one go. He handed the glass back to Harry and smiled a weak smile before closing his eyes and resting his head on the back of the chair.
'Now then Harry', said Brigit, 'to business.' She picked up two packets of sterile gloves from the trolley and carried them back to work bench. She picked up her glasses from the bench, put them on and peered at the packets. She handed one to Harry.
'That size should be right for you, just do what I do to get them on right'.
She opened the pack and tipped the inner sleeve onto the workbench then opened one half, revealing the silicone glove inside. It was almost inside out; the outer rim turned back on itself so that it covered the fingers and thumb of the glove. She nodded to Harry who followed her lead and did everything that she had done before. When his glove was also revealed, she picked hers up and swiftly and expertly pulled it onto her hand.
'Now be careful Harry, remember that the gloves are sterile and once on your hand, its very important that you don't touch anything.'
'Ok', said Harry and picked up his glove carefully. He tried to fit it on his hand but was dismayed when the glove suddenly catapulted away and landed on the floor on the other side of the bench. He blushed to the roots of his hair and looked sheepishly at Brigit.
'Never mind', she said, 'it can be a bit tricky to get the hang of. Moon can you pass Harry another set of gloves please?'
Moon selected what she thought was the right size glove and brought them over, opening the packet as she came. She tipped the inner sleeve onto the bench and watched as Harry opened the paper to reveal the glove once more. He gave a deep sigh and picked it up, this time holding onto it firmly while he squeezed his hand inside. It was a tight fit but finally, it was in place and Harry held it up for Brigit to see.
'Very good,' she said turned back to the bench. 'Now this ones even more tricky, so watch carefully. Remember that your glove is sterile, so you don't want to touch anything except the other glove.'
Harry watched as she placed her fingers inside the folded bit of the glove to pick it up and then pushed her other hand into it, taking care that her gloved hand didn't touch any part of her bare skin.
She spent a few seconds entwining her fingers to push the gloves on fully and when she was finally satisfied, she turned to Harry.
'Your turn', she said and silently watched as Harry repeated her actions. He picked up the glove in the way that she had shown him and then slid his hand inside, letting go of the rim with a 'smack' against his wrist when the glove was in place. He smiled at Brigit and the others.
'Now you are just showing off', said Brigit, frowning, 'come one, there's no time to waste in horseplay, we have a man to sew up! Keep your hands up Harry so you don't touch anything accidentally.
She moved back to Dr Erp's side and instructed Moon to open the dressing pack. Moon complied and tipped out the inner pack onto the surface of the trolley. Brigit opened the pack and removed a surgical drape which she placed over Dr Erp's abdomen. The dressing pack also contained two plastic gallipots which Brigit picked up and placed at the edge of the sterile paper field she had created with the inner portion of the pack. She inclined her head which was a cue to Jotiko to fill the pots from the bottles he had placed on the trolley earlier. Alison recognised the brown liquid in the first pot as iodine, which she knew was used by surgeons when the did operations, to clean the skin but the clear green liquid, which Jotiko poured into the second pot, was a mystery to her.
'What's the green stuff', she said leaning forward and sniffing the air.
'Ah, that's a concoction of mine own', said Dr Erp, opening his eyes for the first time in at least five minutes. 'It's a delicate mixture of Hypericum perforatum and Achillea millefolium. You might know them better as 'St John's Wort and 'Yarrow'. When combined they make a very effective mixture which staunches blood flow and promotes healing. You have to get the quantities just right, of course otherwise you might as well not have bothered. An excellent choice, Brigit'.
'You taught me well, old friend,' said Brigit. She smiled at him and then looked down once more at the wound, 'Now then, I'm going to have to give this a good old clean now, so grit your teeth, there's a good man'.
She picked up a gauze swab and dipped it into the iodine, making sure the whole thing was soaked. She transferred it, dripping, to the gaping wound and began cleaning out mud and debris that had become trapped there after Dr Erp had fallen to the ground. Brigit examined the wound thoroughly as she worked. It was deep; right down into the muscle layer covering Dr Erp's chest. And it gaped horribly; the edges of skin were at least five centimetres apart and the whole thing must have measured twenty centimetres in length. It ran from Dr Erp's shoulder right across his chest and ended almost at the bottom of his ribs.
It's a very impressive wound I must say', said Brigit, and began applying Dr Erp's clear, green concoction with another swab, 'another centimetre and I think I might have been pushing your heart back in through your rib cage!'
She discarded the swab into a waste bin Jotiko had placed beside her for the purpose and picked up the needle and syringe that Moon had just opened onto the paper. She swiftly drew up the local anaesthetic and began injecting the edges of the wound.
Dr Erp gave a low chuckle while wincing with pain at every touch of the needle 'Much as I appreciate your wonderful humour under normal circumstances, my dear lady, I'd be really grateful if you could keep it to a minimum just at the moment'.
Brigit looked at Harry and gave him a wink. 'Very important to keep the patient's spirits up, my boy......very important.' She turned to Moon. 'I need those instruments and the sutures opening now dear please, needle holder first, there's a good girl'.
Moon did as instructed and opened the outer packaging of the instruments and then dropped them into the sterile field. She then opened several packs of suture material and did the same. Brigit picked up the needle holder and the first suture needle and clamped it in place with a satisfying snap.
'Harry, take hold of the scissors, it's now time for your bit of the action!'.
Harry did as he was told. He stood on the opposite side of the chair from Brigit, hovering over both her and the patient and he was holding the scissors out in front of him. Alison, watching from the back of the chair, could see a thin film of sweat upon his face and his hand trembling gently.
'Are you alright, Harry?' she said, 'you look a bit pale.
Harry nodded, tight lipped but didn't say anything. Alison smiled and imagined his teeth clamped tightly together in the effort to remain composed.
Dr Erp gave a little moan and shuffled in the chair, 'You are doing a sterling job,' he whispered to Harry with eyes closed, 'don't feel bad if your faint my lad, most do the very first time'.
Harry nodded again. 'I'm ok', he said in a very quiet voice, 'just let me be and I'll be fine'.
'Good man', said Dr Erp, 'good man.'
Brigit picked up the toothed forceps and leaned over Dr Erp's chest. She lifted the flap of skin and had inserted the first stitch so quickly that Harry was surprised when she looked up at him expectantly.
'Come on Harry, keep up', she said and chuckled, 'at this rate I'll have the next one in before you get to do your bit'.
Harry grinned sheepishly and reached out to snip the sutures. His hand trembled badly and it took a monumental effort of will the steady it enough to cut the suture. But he did it, and then stood up straight to admire his handiwork.
'Well done', said Brigit,' now focus, because this is going to be quick. Moon, open two more packs of suture please, this is going to take a lot of stitching, at least fifty I would say.'
Brigit whizzed through the rest of the suturing in record time. When she had finished and stood up to ease her aching back, sixty two neat black stitches marches across Dr Erp's chest like a line of ants in search of food.
'Well done Brigit, lovely job,' said Jotiko, 'shall I finish up?'
'Yes please', she replied and removed her gloves, discarding them into the bin. She collapsed with a huge sigh into the armchair opposite Dr Erp. Her face looked pinched and drawn; weariness evident in every line. She leaned back in the chair and ran a hand through her long, grey hair, while the others busied themselves clearing the debris left in the wake of the suturing. Jotkio was leaning over Dr Erp and applying dressings and a bandage to the wound and made tea while Harry stood beside her looking dazed and tired.
'Go to bed Harry, you look wrecked', she said and gave him a brief hug before turning to the boiled kettle. He nodded and without another word, left the workshop and went silently to his room.
Once Jotiko was satisfied with his handiwork he hauled Dr Erp to his feet and with the help of Moon, walked him gently out of the workshop also. Within a few minutes they were back and both slumped immediately into the waiting armchairs.
Alison placed mugs of steaming tea in front of each person and was acknowledged with a smile from each. She sat down and noticed for the first time how dishevelled and dirty both Moon and Jotiko were. Their clothes were streaked with blood and Jotiko had acquired yet another cut on his face.
Brigit sipped from her mug of tea and then held it between both hands savouring the reassuring warmth against her skin.
'What happened?' she said, glancing at Moon and then Jotiko, 'how on earth did Erp manage to get such a horrible injury?'
Moon looked at Jotiko and he gave a silent nod. She leaned back in the chair, gave a sigh and rubbed her eyes for a moment and returned to a waiting Brigit.
'It was Excalibur'.....she said, wearily.....the Black Knight has Excalibur.
Monday 5 May 2014
'What's Next I Wonder?' - the musings of a homeless woman: Has it really been a month already!
'What's Next I Wonder?' - the musings of a homeless woman: Has it really been a month already!: I've just arrived back in Plymouth after a lovely weekend spent with very special people. They are the friends who have been there for m...
Has it really been a month already!
I've just arrived back in Plymouth after a lovely weekend spent with very special people. They are the friends who have been there for me throughout this bloody awful process. They have hugged me, wiped my tears, fed me, been on the other end of the phone, slept nearby when I was scared or they were scared for me and generally given so much more of themselves than I ever would have believed possible. Thank you, everyone of you - you know who you are.
Coming back here is always with mixed feelings. It has been a haven for the past 3 weeks and I'm so grateful for that but it's a reminder, also, that until yesterday, I had no place else to go. It is a strange place - and certainly not meant to be anyone's home. The doctors who sleep here are not meant to get comfortable; they are here to work and the accommodation provides them with only the very basic they might require: a kettle, fridge, microwave and a 2 ring hob. One pan and a few plates, cup and cutlery. The only knife to cut with is an enormous meat cleaver which weighs a ton! My first week here I tried chopping dainty slices of carrot for stir fry and almost removed the fingers of my right hand (I'm left handed) in an effort to peel the first carrot. Since then all peel remains firmly on!
The residence block itself is a bit like a ghost town. I hear doors opening and closing and occasionally the lift arriving but after 3 weeks I have yet to meet another person. There are 32 rooms in this block and I know that there are more than a couple of people around just by the number of cars in the car park. I can only assume that few of them make it back to their rooms often enough to make their presence felt. The life of a junior doctor never was easy.
This weekend I went back to my former home and spent the weekend with my neighbours and good friends. I miss that small community very much but returning was hard; much harder than i imagined it would be. My former home is part of a 'back to front' terrace of houses where the gardens at the front of the house are almost communal. Stepping out of your front door was almost always a pleasure; there would be someone to chat with to or drink tea with or share stories or give or receive support. I will miss that. I also found myself completely unable to look at the house without welling up. I admit to having several good weeps. I think it was probably too soon to have returned but seeing my friends again made it worthwhile and I laughed more this weekend that I have for sometime.
I also briefly met someone who has remained in my thoughts ever since. She reminded me that however terrible life might seem, there is always someone suffering more - and those people are all around us. Her story is something that this country ought to be ashamed of and also ought do be doing something about. She is from Romania and has been in this country for just under a year. She is 50 years old and in own country had a well paid job as an engineer in the petrochemical industry. She had her own flat, a mortgage and a life.
Everything started to go wrong when the Romanian economy began to nose dive and the petrochemical industry began to shrink. She found herself moving from lesser paid job to lesser paid job until one day, the industry which had seemed indestructible..... had disappeared completely. In common with thousands of other Romanians, she took the decision to leave the country - could no longer afford the spiralling mortgage rate and prices. It appears there is something very odd happening in Romania and no-one can really put their finger on what is going on; the economy has gone into free fall and the standard of living has declined rapidly. It seems that land is being bought up by unknown purchasers - the Russians and Chinese are suspected and there is even a rumour that Transylvania is being sold off as a job lot. Her decision to come here was made in desperation. She was utterly terrified of what was happening and when an English agency offered her work, she grabbed the opportunity with both hands.
The agency charged her £1000 for finding her a job and accommodation and she arrived here frightened and knowing no-one.
The work the agency have found for her is in care homes looking after elderly residents. She has received no training and is forced to work as many nights as the care home insists - at present that is 5, 14 hours shifts per week, looking after 47 residents. She is paid the minimum wage but has a battle with the agency to be paid correctly and on time - and of course they level further charges on her pay for the privilege of working for them.
She looks exhausted and pitiful as she is telling me this and I feel a monumental anger that this kind of slavery is being allowed to happen in our country. And there is no other word to describe it. This is slavery! We are allowing these despicable agencies to pray on vulnerable and desperate people and it makes me feel sick to even contemplate the misery that is going on all around us.
Coming back here is always with mixed feelings. It has been a haven for the past 3 weeks and I'm so grateful for that but it's a reminder, also, that until yesterday, I had no place else to go. It is a strange place - and certainly not meant to be anyone's home. The doctors who sleep here are not meant to get comfortable; they are here to work and the accommodation provides them with only the very basic they might require: a kettle, fridge, microwave and a 2 ring hob. One pan and a few plates, cup and cutlery. The only knife to cut with is an enormous meat cleaver which weighs a ton! My first week here I tried chopping dainty slices of carrot for stir fry and almost removed the fingers of my right hand (I'm left handed) in an effort to peel the first carrot. Since then all peel remains firmly on!
The residence block itself is a bit like a ghost town. I hear doors opening and closing and occasionally the lift arriving but after 3 weeks I have yet to meet another person. There are 32 rooms in this block and I know that there are more than a couple of people around just by the number of cars in the car park. I can only assume that few of them make it back to their rooms often enough to make their presence felt. The life of a junior doctor never was easy.
This weekend I went back to my former home and spent the weekend with my neighbours and good friends. I miss that small community very much but returning was hard; much harder than i imagined it would be. My former home is part of a 'back to front' terrace of houses where the gardens at the front of the house are almost communal. Stepping out of your front door was almost always a pleasure; there would be someone to chat with to or drink tea with or share stories or give or receive support. I will miss that. I also found myself completely unable to look at the house without welling up. I admit to having several good weeps. I think it was probably too soon to have returned but seeing my friends again made it worthwhile and I laughed more this weekend that I have for sometime.
I also briefly met someone who has remained in my thoughts ever since. She reminded me that however terrible life might seem, there is always someone suffering more - and those people are all around us. Her story is something that this country ought to be ashamed of and also ought do be doing something about. She is from Romania and has been in this country for just under a year. She is 50 years old and in own country had a well paid job as an engineer in the petrochemical industry. She had her own flat, a mortgage and a life.
Everything started to go wrong when the Romanian economy began to nose dive and the petrochemical industry began to shrink. She found herself moving from lesser paid job to lesser paid job until one day, the industry which had seemed indestructible..... had disappeared completely. In common with thousands of other Romanians, she took the decision to leave the country - could no longer afford the spiralling mortgage rate and prices. It appears there is something very odd happening in Romania and no-one can really put their finger on what is going on; the economy has gone into free fall and the standard of living has declined rapidly. It seems that land is being bought up by unknown purchasers - the Russians and Chinese are suspected and there is even a rumour that Transylvania is being sold off as a job lot. Her decision to come here was made in desperation. She was utterly terrified of what was happening and when an English agency offered her work, she grabbed the opportunity with both hands.
The agency charged her £1000 for finding her a job and accommodation and she arrived here frightened and knowing no-one.
The work the agency have found for her is in care homes looking after elderly residents. She has received no training and is forced to work as many nights as the care home insists - at present that is 5, 14 hours shifts per week, looking after 47 residents. She is paid the minimum wage but has a battle with the agency to be paid correctly and on time - and of course they level further charges on her pay for the privilege of working for them.
She looks exhausted and pitiful as she is telling me this and I feel a monumental anger that this kind of slavery is being allowed to happen in our country. And there is no other word to describe it. This is slavery! We are allowing these despicable agencies to pray on vulnerable and desperate people and it makes me feel sick to even contemplate the misery that is going on all around us.
Tuesday 22 April 2014
Day 15 of homelessness......who to trust?
'The best way to find out if you can trust somebody, is to trust them' Ernest Hemingway
Hmmm...... that's all very well, Ernest, but what I've learned recently, is that trusting someone can be very costly indeed. Of course, there is no one else to blame but me. I trusted TT and if I'm completely honest with myself, it was against my own better judgement. My gut was telling me that something was wrong - and I, foolishly, chose to ignore it. Shortly after we moved in together, there was an incident which rang an alarm bell which I should have heeded. If only I had, things might be very different today.
I also realise now that I must have been the only person trusting him. The number of people who knew both of us and have subsequently approached me and said 'Well, I never did trust him', have shocked me by their sheer numbers. It actually seems there wasn't one person of our mutual acquaintance who didn't have a little voice inside them screaming, 'beware, he's definitely dodgy!' If only someone had said something to me - though I understand how impossible that would have been. How do you say to someone 'By the way, your partner is not to be trusted'.
Ernest, though, remains correct. Situations occur every day where we have to place our trust in another human being and sometimes we will rewarded with kindness and respect and at other times we will get a resounding kick in the teeth.
Just in the last couple of weeks I've had another experience of misplaced trust - and teeth were definitely involved!
One of the things to suffer during my time with TT has been visits to the dentist. He regarded it as a luxury - and one which we definitely could not afford. Accordingly, the health my teeth have taken a downward spiral and I will be lucky to escape dentures in the near future.
The fear of that particular situation sent me scuttling off to the nearest practice as soon as TT was out of the door. I'm lucky in that I've never had any fear of the dentist - have always been treated with care and have never experienced any pain. All that changed on my second visit to the new dentist. I had been informed I needed a new crown and a filling and she started with the new crown prep. My god! If she had been in my mouth stamping around in hobnail boots it couldn't have been any more painful. For 5 days afterwards I was in agony and could barely open my mouth. When I returned 2 weeks later, I was understandably a little anxious, but being the trusting idiot that I am, I thought it must have been a one off - this time will be better, won't it? Nope, the 3rd visit was even worse! She climbed into my mouth once more and this time drilled until the nerve was screaming, despite the numbing injections. By the time she had finished, I wanted to die.
Now, exactly 2 weeks later, the swelling and bruising to my face has only just disappeared over the weekend. Suffice to stay, I won't be returning to see her. I have however, made a complaint; something I have never contemplated with any other dentist. The morale of this story: Yes, give someone your trust willingly. But, for me, one chance is all they get from now on!
Tuesday 15 April 2014
Day 10 of homelessness.........
.......to my new and temporary home. Here I am in Plymouth. The city has certainly welcomed me; there has been cloudless skies and brilliant sunshine from the moment I arrived. The people too seem nice so far and I think my time here will be ok - fingers crossed.
I'm staying in the doctor's residences of the main hospital - a 10 minute drive from where I'm working and for me, its a bit like stepping back in time. My ex- husband of long ago was a junior doctor when I met him and we spent many long hours in his flat at the hospital. It was very similar to this place apart from in his flat there was a separate bedroom, whereas here the bed is kept in a cupboard in the wall.
I seemed to spend most of my time in that flat completely alone too! He would be, inevitably, on call and out on the wards and I would be waiting patiently (bored) for his return. I would do whatever I could to make his on call time a little more pleasant. I worshipped him then and he knew it; he allowed me to wait on him hand and foot and made it seem he was doing me a favour. At the time I didn't blame him. Being on call and knackered most of the time is hell on earth. Who in their right mind would refuse the attentions of a willing slave in those circumstances? Besides, it made me feel important in a way I had never felt previously. He needed me to make it better - isn't that every nurses raison d'être?
I was reminded too of something weird which happened 5 or 6 years after our divorce. I had the opportunity to return to the hospital where we had met and where I trained, to spend a day with a specialist nurse. It had been 20 years since I had been there and the whole experience felt a little surreal. After following the nurse around all day she announced we had to go to a meeting. Off we went, through the hospital, out into the car park and across to where the nurses and doctor's residences used to be. As we walked I told her about living there and meeting my ex. She told me that 90% of the flats were now the admin offices of the hospital. When we arrived at the block where my ex had lived it felt so strange and when we arrived outside the very door of the flat I almost burst out laughing! Unbelievably, I found myself in a packed meeting in the very bedroom I had spent many a happy hour, in my ex's cramped single bed. Happy days.
I'm staying in the doctor's residences of the main hospital - a 10 minute drive from where I'm working and for me, its a bit like stepping back in time. My ex- husband of long ago was a junior doctor when I met him and we spent many long hours in his flat at the hospital. It was very similar to this place apart from in his flat there was a separate bedroom, whereas here the bed is kept in a cupboard in the wall.
I seemed to spend most of my time in that flat completely alone too! He would be, inevitably, on call and out on the wards and I would be waiting patiently (bored) for his return. I would do whatever I could to make his on call time a little more pleasant. I worshipped him then and he knew it; he allowed me to wait on him hand and foot and made it seem he was doing me a favour. At the time I didn't blame him. Being on call and knackered most of the time is hell on earth. Who in their right mind would refuse the attentions of a willing slave in those circumstances? Besides, it made me feel important in a way I had never felt previously. He needed me to make it better - isn't that every nurses raison d'être?
I was reminded too of something weird which happened 5 or 6 years after our divorce. I had the opportunity to return to the hospital where we had met and where I trained, to spend a day with a specialist nurse. It had been 20 years since I had been there and the whole experience felt a little surreal. After following the nurse around all day she announced we had to go to a meeting. Off we went, through the hospital, out into the car park and across to where the nurses and doctor's residences used to be. As we walked I told her about living there and meeting my ex. She told me that 90% of the flats were now the admin offices of the hospital. When we arrived at the block where my ex had lived it felt so strange and when we arrived outside the very door of the flat I almost burst out laughing! Unbelievably, I found myself in a packed meeting in the very bedroom I had spent many a happy hour, in my ex's cramped single bed. Happy days.
Sunday 13 April 2014
Day 8 of homelessness........Onwards to Plymouth
I arrived in Plymouth a little while ago and feel comfy and safe in my guest-house room. It was a long old drive from Kent but the sun was shining all they way and with each mile my spirits lifted; a new adventure and hopefully a little money and security for a while.
The only blip came when driving past the exit I would normally take for Glastonbury. Each sign post brought back so many memories - of other drives home from my daughter's house, to be greeted with a steaming sunday dinner or a small puppy, wagging an excited, scruffy tail. All gone now.
My mind was taken right back to the beginning - of meeting my ex and the move to Somerset and the subsequent problems, revelations and heartbreak. I have been asked several times by readers of this blog, to share those experiences. To share how I came to be penniless and homeless. I'm not sure - friends have warned about the dangers of airing one's dirty linen in public and the repercussions that may come. What do people think? It is my itention to write a novel about my experiences - it's the only way I can legitimately kill TT (rather than calling him the twat, I've shortened it) and get away with it!
The only blip came when driving past the exit I would normally take for Glastonbury. Each sign post brought back so many memories - of other drives home from my daughter's house, to be greeted with a steaming sunday dinner or a small puppy, wagging an excited, scruffy tail. All gone now.
My mind was taken right back to the beginning - of meeting my ex and the move to Somerset and the subsequent problems, revelations and heartbreak. I have been asked several times by readers of this blog, to share those experiences. To share how I came to be penniless and homeless. I'm not sure - friends have warned about the dangers of airing one's dirty linen in public and the repercussions that may come. What do people think? It is my itention to write a novel about my experiences - it's the only way I can legitimately kill TT (rather than calling him the twat, I've shortened it) and get away with it!
Friday 11 April 2014
Day 6 of homelessness - Panic attacks.....
........how do you avoid them?
Today I feel that panic could engulf me entirely if I let my guard down for a moment. I have 2 nights left here at my daughters - and then it's onwards into the unknown.
I have the promise of a few weeks work in a hospital in Plymouth - a 6 hour drive away from here, which happens to come with accommodation. After that who knows.
Panic has inspired long periods of introspection today - trying to identify what it really is I'm afraid of. I now think I know how it must feel when your house is blown away by a tornado or burns to the ground - Ok, perhaps these are extreme examples, but even so, I believe this feeling of rootlessness and loss, is universal.
So many times over the past few days I have caught myself thinking 'I must do this or that, or find something........when I get home', Each time I catch my breath and a wave of fear passes over me. There is no home. There is no place to return to. There is no longer any place where I might feel safe. There is no place where I can slump on the sofa, throw my slippers off and be myself. And worse there is no little dog to talk to and make everything feel almost bearable.
If only I had written this blog yesterday! Yesterday the sun was shining and I was watching my grandchildren play happily in the park. Yesterday I felt positive and almost happy; anything was possible and everything was going to be alright.
Today is different....I thought it was Thursday. I thought I had three more nights here and that seemed just enough to make another adjustment to my emotional compass. Three more nights would have done it. I would have been ready. When I discovered it was Friday - which wasn't actually until half an hour ago - a black hollowness appeared in the pit of my stomach. Two more nights and I will have to venture out and face the world again. Two more nights and the business of 'getting on with it' would really begin.....every time I think of this the panic rises.
I've cried a lot tonight. Grieving for everything I've lost: my home, my savings, my good reputation, my perfect credit score, my dog, my security, the life where I was an professional, independent woman. I've been reduced to this by someone I trusted without question.
What's left is a dogged determination to retain my sanity and sense of humour - and though the latter is making only brief appearances at present, I'm hopeful that will change soon.
Wednesday 9 April 2014
Day 4 of homelessness....Life was a bitch.........
..........specifically a small, furry bitch name of Ruby. She's the loveliest, friendliest dog ever and I'm going to miss her more than I can say.
I got her 18 months ago as a tiny puppy and looked more teddy bear, crossed with a tiger. Her face was completely black and quite flat and her ears bent forward making her look too adorable and her back was covered in broad, dark stripes.
Ruby saved my life over the past year; she gave me something to care for and a reason to get up in the mornings and get out of the house. She gave me a reason to carry on because she needed me to hold it together. loved those walks with her and they provided the inspiration for the children's book I hope to finish, sometime soon.
Yesterday morning I had to watch her being driven away - possibly never to be seen again. I'm eternally grateful to Joe for taking her and I know she will be well cared for.......but I miss her.
Of course, she was never really my dog anyway. By which I mean she attached herself to my ex (to be known from now as 'the twat' If anyone finds this offensive and can come up with something which indicates the same level of vitriol, then do suggest it!) The twat was sent to pick her up from the breeders - a devious ploy by me to get them to bond, which backfired big style. By the time they got home, a trip which took 3 hours, man and dog had bonded forever. I always knew I was second best and it broke my heart to watch her scurrying around his feet, only to be ignored because he had long since lost interest - the twat! Actually scratch the man and dog bonding - the dog bonded and the man did what he always did - he pretended whilst it suited him to do so.
I knew it would be fine with Joe from the moment he arrived - he was a man and therefore vastly superior to any one of us women! Ruby began following him around and watching him carefully. She happily jumped into his car and went for walks and even tolerated (a little) his own tiny pooch Buffy - whom I could have happily kept. By the end of the first day Ruby had forgotten my existence and wouldn't even come when I called her. She would look to Joe for reassurance instead and then turn her back on me.
This must be the low point? Surely now I can put everything behind me and move on?
I got her 18 months ago as a tiny puppy and looked more teddy bear, crossed with a tiger. Her face was completely black and quite flat and her ears bent forward making her look too adorable and her back was covered in broad, dark stripes.
Ruby saved my life over the past year; she gave me something to care for and a reason to get up in the mornings and get out of the house. She gave me a reason to carry on because she needed me to hold it together. loved those walks with her and they provided the inspiration for the children's book I hope to finish, sometime soon.
Yesterday morning I had to watch her being driven away - possibly never to be seen again. I'm eternally grateful to Joe for taking her and I know she will be well cared for.......but I miss her.
Of course, she was never really my dog anyway. By which I mean she attached herself to my ex (to be known from now as 'the twat' If anyone finds this offensive and can come up with something which indicates the same level of vitriol, then do suggest it!) The twat was sent to pick her up from the breeders - a devious ploy by me to get them to bond, which backfired big style. By the time they got home, a trip which took 3 hours, man and dog had bonded forever. I always knew I was second best and it broke my heart to watch her scurrying around his feet, only to be ignored because he had long since lost interest - the twat! Actually scratch the man and dog bonding - the dog bonded and the man did what he always did - he pretended whilst it suited him to do so.
I knew it would be fine with Joe from the moment he arrived - he was a man and therefore vastly superior to any one of us women! Ruby began following him around and watching him carefully. She happily jumped into his car and went for walks and even tolerated (a little) his own tiny pooch Buffy - whom I could have happily kept. By the end of the first day Ruby had forgotten my existence and wouldn't even come when I called her. She would look to Joe for reassurance instead and then turn her back on me.
This must be the low point? Surely now I can put everything behind me and move on?
Monday 7 April 2014
Day 2 of homelessness
Homelessness is not a state I would recommend to anyone. For the first time in my life I literally have no roof to call my own. I must admit it's by far the scariest thing that has ever happened to me - and there have been one or two scary moments of note along the way.
It's day 2 and the reality has not yet sunk in. I feel in that dream-like state often induced by shock or trauma. Nothing feels real and I know that's because I'm holding all my pent-up feelings inside, in an effort not to be overwhelmed by them. No doubt at some point I will collapse into a snot-filled puddle on the floor and cry until I can cry no more. I just hope I'm alone when it finally happens.
Do I sound self-pitying? I hope not, because the aim here isn't to bleat about the past and constantly wail 'woe is me'. I want this to be a happy blog, full of observations on my life. A witty look at how the hell I ended up in this deep pit and how the hell I'm going to climb out again!
I hope also that I'm going to get lots of feedback, interaction and comments. Please talk to me - I promise faithfully that I'll respond.
Eventually, I'll also introduce you to my books: the one I'm almost finished and the next one which is sitting quietly in the background, patiently waiting to take its turn occupying my head space.
Time now to phone the debt counsellor - I've been putting it off - the thought of baring my financial soul to a complete stranger is not one I have been relishing.......I'll let you know how it goes
It's day 2 and the reality has not yet sunk in. I feel in that dream-like state often induced by shock or trauma. Nothing feels real and I know that's because I'm holding all my pent-up feelings inside, in an effort not to be overwhelmed by them. No doubt at some point I will collapse into a snot-filled puddle on the floor and cry until I can cry no more. I just hope I'm alone when it finally happens.
Do I sound self-pitying? I hope not, because the aim here isn't to bleat about the past and constantly wail 'woe is me'. I want this to be a happy blog, full of observations on my life. A witty look at how the hell I ended up in this deep pit and how the hell I'm going to climb out again!
I hope also that I'm going to get lots of feedback, interaction and comments. Please talk to me - I promise faithfully that I'll respond.
Eventually, I'll also introduce you to my books: the one I'm almost finished and the next one which is sitting quietly in the background, patiently waiting to take its turn occupying my head space.
Time now to phone the debt counsellor - I've been putting it off - the thought of baring my financial soul to a complete stranger is not one I have been relishing.......I'll let you know how it goes
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