The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1172 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I think I must have fallen asleep because when I awoke, Simon wasn’t there. I called for him and a nurse appeared and told me he’d gone home to shower and change. I sat up and a physio came in and explained she wanted to clear my chest. Well she started slapping me on the back and I began to think that clearing my chest was knocking my boobs off. I began to cough and brought up this horrible black scummy stuff. A couple of minutes later and I was able to breathe much more easily. I thanked her and she nodded and went off to torture another victim–I’ll bet she does water-boarding in her spare time.

I asked about Julie and the nurse went off to find out for me. She returned five or ten minutes later. “She’s comfortable and they hope out of danger. They’re still trying to analyse what she was given. They’re concerned about her kidneys but otherwise she’s coming on.”

“Can I go and see her?”

“Shortly. What’s this about you dragging her off a bonfire?” asked the nurse, “Did she fall into it?”

“Something like that, I don’t remember.”

“Only the press have been sniffing about like dogs round each other’s bums.”

“When can I see her?”

“I’ll go and phone the unit and see what I can do.”

“Thank you.” I sat impatiently and coughed from time to time, but it was less black. I must have inhaled more smoke than I thought. Goodness knows how Julie is.

“There’s a porter going to take you up in a few minutes. You’ll need to wrap a blanket round yourself.”

I looked down and realised I was wearing one of those disposable gown things. I felt down below–at least I still had my knickers on. The nurse came back with one of those hospital cellular blankets and I stood up and wrapped it round me like a giant shawl. I saw I also had some of those disposable slippers they provide. The porter arrived and he helped me into a chair. “I can walk, you know,” I said indignantly.

“Sit still or I’ll shove you down the laundry chute,” he barked at me and I sat quietly. It took an age to get to the ICU, and then he had to speak with the nurse in charge. She pushed the chair into a cubicle and there under a mass of tubes and wires was Julie.

“We didn’t realise she was a boy until we went to put the catheter in.”

“She isn’t, she’s a transgendered girl.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that–I mean anatomically, she has a willie.”

“No she suffers from vagina inverticus.”

“From vagi...oh? I see, yes, very good.” She blushed and laughed, “You obviously don’t have a problem with it then?”

“Why–do you?”

“No, no of course not.” She blushed again.

I got out of the wheel chair and sat next to Julie and rubbed the back of her hand, which felt a bit cooler than usual, yet when I touched her forehead, that felt warmer. “Is she on antibiotics?”

“Oh yes, quite a high dose–we think the drug she had taken...”

“I don’t think she’d have taken it voluntarily, she would either have been duped or forced to take it–she doesn’t do drugs.”

“Mrs Kemp, please don’t be so aggressive. I wasn’t implying she’d taken it for fun, but she did ingest it one way or another. Anyway, we think it might have affected her breathing and I believe she was caught in a fire and had sacking on her face, if that wasn’t very clean. However, it may have also protected her face from the heat a little.”

“It might have done, oh and my name isn’t Kemp, Julie is my foster child, my name is Cameron.”

“I’m sorry–I thought you were her mother–but you’re far too young to be her mother. Did you know she was transgendered before you fostered her?”

“Yes, it isn’t a problem–she’s never been anything other than a young woman to me–perhaps one with a particular issue, but all teenagers have something to deal with, even if it’s only their grotty parents.”

“What are you doing to her?” the nurse walked towards the machines. “Her oxygen level has increased to nearly normal and her kidney function is improving.”

“I’m not doing anything, am I? I’m just holding her hand–maybe she recognises my voice–hello, sweetheart, you’re going to be okay, can you hear me? You’ll be okay now I’m here.”

The nurse rubbed her eyes, “What are you?”

“Why?”

“There’s this white light surrounding you and Julie, I think I’d better get the doctor–maybe you’d better go.”

“Julie wake up and tell her you feel better.” I said to the supine child. Her eyes opened and she looked at me and smiled.

“Hello, Mummy, where are we?”

“In hospital, sweetheart, you’ve been ill.”

“Have I–I’ve had the weirdest dreams, Mummy.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart.”

She gave a terrific cough and I held out the papier mache receiver and she spat out this almost black tar like gunge. She took some more deep breaths and coughed up another lot.

The nurse was stood mesmerised with her mouth wide open and her eyes bulging. “When you see the dentist next week, get him to check that crown you have on your wisdom tooth, there’s decay under it,” I told her.

She snapped back to life, “Dentist? How d’you know I’m seeing the dentist? What are you some sort of witch?”

“Why do people always see witches as wicked–most are actually very nice people, who do no harm to anyone–it’s against their religion.” I smirked.

“She’s an angel really,” said Julie before bringing up another pile of gunk.

“I’ve never seen anything like this in over twenty years of nursing.”

“It’s good to learn something new every day,” I teased.

“They say there’s some mystery healer that comes here–it’s you, isn’t it?”

“Me–nah, I just love her–that’s all you saw, a manifestation of my love–it just seems more visible with some people than others. When you have your cat sat on your lap, you’re doing exactly the same, only you can’t see it–what’s his name–Jefferson? Unusual name for a cat. Is it because your name is Davis?”

“How do you know that?”

“Know what?”

“My cat’s name?”

“A lucky guess, I suppose.”

“You are weird, Mrs Cameron.”

“Yeah, it’s teaching students for a while–it gets to you eventually.”

“You’re a teacher?”

“Not exactly–well okay then, a teacher of men.” I used the phrase especially. I could see the cross round her neck.

“I don’t believe in false prophets, how dare you use words from the Bible?”

“I’m neither a prophet nor false. You believe what you believe and I’ll believe what I believe and apart from never the twain meeting, we’ll get on fine.”

“I think you ought to leave.”

“If I go, so does she.”

“I think I’d better call the police.”

“That would be a mistake, call Mr Nicholls instead.”

“How do you know Mr Nicholls.”

“I know lots of people, including many of the police.”

She picked up the phone and bleeped Ken Nicholls. He called back a moment later. I could only hear half the conversation. “Hello, Mr Nicholls, I’m sorry to disturb you, it’s Sister Davis on ICU. I have a strange lady here who says she knows you, Mrs Cameron, I think she said she was, making my machines go funny. You’ll come over? Oh good.”

“He’s coming then?” I clarified.

“Yes, he asked if I saw any blue light? He also said you were an angel–what’s going on? God protect me.”

“You have nothing to fear from me, I don’t hang upside down in a wardrobe on full moons or anything like that. I would ask that you keep confidential what you’ve seen today–or I get nasty and sue for breach of confidence, and I always win.”

Her smile turned to a look of dismay, which was when Ken Nicholls strolled in. “Cathy, what are you doing here and wearing one our gowns–tut tut, Calvin Klein they are not.”

“Damn, I dressed in a hurry this morning...” I said and he bellowed with laughter.