‘Some memory loss is to be expected with a stroke of this magnitude,’ I heard the doctor say. ‘We’re confident that thrombolysis was carried out in a timely enough manner to minimise long-term damage, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a long road ahead of you, Elizabeth.’ He perched himself on the end of my bed, as if settling himself for a long chat. ‘We’ll be looking at a holistic approach. You’ll require an assessment from the occupational therapist, and physio, of course.
‘We’ll see how things settle or improve over the coming days and check what other support we can offer. See if you need speech therapy. You know we’ll be appointing a social worker, don’t you? We’re aware you live alone and your son-in-law tells me that his house wouldn’t be suitable for you as it is, so we need to look at the best options going forwards.’
I took a breath. Every word required effort.
‘Want to go home,’ I stuttered.
‘I know that, Elizabeth,’ the doctor said. ‘That’ll be our aim, but we have to be practical, too. We have to make sure you’re looked after. Is there any other family we should be in touch with? Siblings, nieces or nephews?’
I shook my head. My only sister had lived in England for the last forty-seven years and we saw each other once a year at most. Her family were grown, lived in England, too. I didn’t have a big family to fall back on. I didn’t even feel it fair to worry her by calling. Although my son-in-law had overruled me on that and had insisted she was told anyway.
‘She’s booking a flight,’ he’d told me when he was in earlier. ‘Her daughter’s coming with her. She wondered, could she stay in the farmhouse?’
I’d nodded, although what she’d make of my ramshackle home was anyone’s guess. It had been in a much better condition the last time she’d been over. For Laura’s wake and funeral. I suppose I’d let it go since then, even more so since my accident.
Lying in my hospital bed, I couldn’t get Laura out of my mind. She was in my thoughts, more so than before. I kept getting a feeling there was something about her that I needed to tell someone. I was sure I’d seen her in the house, when my head had started to spin, even though I knew that wasn’t possible. Ever since, I’d felt her with me. Close by. But not close enough to reach.
Maybe it was that life-flashing-before-your-eyes thing people talk about. I’d had patients swear it to me before, when they’d had a scare. That they could see their loved ones waiting for them on the other side. She was there, I was sure of it. Waiting for me.
I wished I’d gone to her. Instead, here I was, the left side of my body numb, more useless than it had been before; the nurses having to feed me and change me and my memory sketchy at best. And what did I have to look forward to? Life in a care home? Old before my time. Or alone, in an empty house, with just the occasional visits from Max and Ava to keep me going.
I was aware they were growing up. In time their old granny, in her fusty old home, would become less and less appealing. They’d be making their own way in life and it wouldn’t involve me.
I wished I’d died. I know that’s a sin even to think, but it was how I felt. I gave in to self-pity, felt a tear roll down my cheek.
‘I know you’ve been through the wars,’ the doctor said, his voice soft. ‘Finding that poor girl and now this. DI Bradley filled us in on everything. You must feel overwhelmed! But you’re strong, Elizabeth. You’re a legend around these parts, and you can and will get through this, and we’ll help you do it. The staff think very highly of you; after all, you were one of us for so long. So it’s our turn to give back to you now and take care of you as well as you took care of all the patients who came through your care here.’
He couldn’t have known I wasn’t crying because of how I felt physically – I was crying because I missed my daughter so badly that I didn’t think I could endure another day without her. And I was crying because I wasn’t a legend at all. I may have been a good nurse in my day, but that didn’t make me anything special. I was as flawed, if not more so, as anyone else.
I’d not done things right and I had a feeling all this could be karma catching up with me. I was reaping what I’d sown and I had no one to blame but myself.
‘Now, you get a good sleep, Elizabeth. You need to conserve your strength. Physio will be around later to have a little chat with you and no doubt your son-in-law will be in this evening, too. He’s very devoted to you, Elizabeth.’
The ward sister who’d been standing at the end of my bed watching the exchange nodded.
‘You’re lucky to have him. Now, Mrs O’Loughlin, looking at your file, I see your daughter, Laura, is listed as your next of kin.’ She spoke so softly, with a look of sympathy that everyone I’d ever spoken to about Laura had worn over the last two years. ‘Should we update it? Maybe to your son-in-law?’
I nodded. There was no point in updating it to anyone else. Michael was the closest family I had left. Everyone else had left me.