The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1205 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

The same nurse who’d confiscated my husband–well that’s what it felt like–came rushing back, “Are you Cathy Cameron?”

“Yes.”

“Come with me.”

“What’s happened?” my anxiety shot through the roof narrowly missing the jet stream and making the weather even worse.

“Nothing, Mr Nicholls asked me to fetch you.”

“Hi, Cathy,” said a familiar voice, “It might help if you come in and hold his hand.”

“What caused his collapse?”

“He possibly just fainted from shock or pain.”

“Is that all, he frightened me to death.”

“I’m sending him down to X-ray in a moment, want to see him?”

I nodded vigorously, “Yes I would thanks, Ken.”

He pointed to a cubicle and I pushed through the curtain and there was Simon lying on a plinth and looking very sorry for himself. “Sorry, I’ve spoilt your birthday.”

“If you’d croaked you would certainly have done, but I’ll forgive you this once.”

“Good, my bloody leg hurts, though, Babes.”

“It will, they’re going to send you down for X-rays in a minute.”

“Oh, that’ll hurt as well while they move me about to get the right angle.”

“You don’t have to do it, you could always just run away.” I replied sarcastically.

“Very funny.”

“What d’you expect? It’s something you’ll have to suffer so they can sort it.” I reached forward and held his hand and felt energy flowing immediately.

“That feels so much better, Babes, if you’re there, I can face anything.” He seemed to drift off into a sleep–at least I hoped it was a sleep–nothing was telling me otherwise.

I placed my hand on his leg, the bruising was spreading quite quickly, I tried to imagine the bones which had broken coming back together and any splinters also joining back into where they should be and the soft tissue calming down and repairing itself, swelling and bleeding reducing itself and the leg returning to its normal healthy state.

“God, it’s burning like it’s on fire,” he said sweating from his forehead.

“It’s okay, just relax and think of something nice.”

“Can I think about bonking you?”

“Can’t you find something more–um–easily shared? In public anyway.”

“Okay, I’m watching you feed the baby, your tits look lovely.”

“Simon, I’m trying to concentrate here.”

“Sorreee.”

“If you like ‘em that much why don’t you grow your own?”

“I don’t think it would do anything for you, would it?”

“Probably not, or for your image either.”

“No, I guess not.”

“This the one for X-rays?” asked a chubby masculine face which pushed through the curtain. It presumably belonged to a porter.

“Sure is,” I answered.

“Can you manage in a chair, mate?” he asked Simon.

“I think so,” Simon stood up and sat down in the chair.”

“What you done then?” asked the porter.

“Broke my leg, I think.”

“You sure? You got in the chair okay, least as far as I could see.”

“Yeah, my wife just hypnotised me to ease the pain–that’s probably why.”

“Oh, I’ve ‘eard about this hypnotism business, she’ll have you barking like a chicken next.” I hate to think what happened in the conversation a moment later but I should think trying to converse with that fellow was going to take Simon’s mind off anything else. He seemed to be from a parallel universe. However, I appreciated Si having the presence of mind to not reveal my healing on him.

I sat and waited, wondering what the children were doing and if Henry got to his meeting at the bank building. It would probably be covered in snow anyway.

He came back half an hour later and Ken Nicholls was with him. “Just badly bruised,” said Simon sighing. Ken winked at me in a very knowing way

“While Simon waits a moment to speak with our discharging nurse, would you have a little look at someone down here, Cathy?”

It had to happen–oh well, one good turn deserves another. I followed him into an identical cubicle. On a similar plinth lay a child, she was breathing in a very laboured way.

“Where are the parents?” I asked. He curled his finger and beckoned me to the next cubicle. In there was a woman of thirty or forty who was very badly bruised about the face and head, who didn’t appear to be breathing at all. “Is she?” I asked.

He nodded and looked very grave–“A few minutes ago. Massive internal haemorrhage–nothing even a genius like me could do.”

“I see,” I touched her, she was still warm but growing cooler. “Give me five or ten minutes, let me know if the girl gets worse.”

He nodded, “Good luck, you’re her only chance now. I’ll see you’re not disturbed.”

I took her hand between mine. “Margaret, I know you can hear me, just focus on my voice and look for the light I’ll be sending you–it’s very bright, like a miniature sun, when you see it follow it, it’ll lead you back to Kim, because she needs you–needs you very much, and she loves you and I know you love her.

“In a moment I’m going to ask you to answer a big question.” I paused. “Do you love Kim enough to cope with some pain, because this is going to hurt quite a lot.” I placed both of my hands on her chest and abdomen and felt the energy rushing into her body like it was lasers cauterising the damaged vessels at the same time causing the pooling blood to return to them in preparation for the heart to begin working again.

“Here we go.” I pressed down on her chest half a dozen times very firmly and she breathed in and screamed in pain. I felt myself sweating, but continued to hold my hands on her thorax and abdomen. Ken Nicholls rushed in, I knew it was him–I could feel him standing behind me, in fact in mind’s eye I could see all round me and he stood behind me looking suitably astonished.

Margaret opened her eyes, “Christ that hurts,” she said as I pressed once again.

“Good, that means you’re on the mend and I can leave you to this nice gentleman.” I walked outside and washed my hands. I heard him talking to her and her asking if she’d died.

“Not quite–I mean if you had, no one could do anything but it was a close run thing and my colleague managed to pull you back.”

“Kim made me come back–is she badly hurt?”

“Cathy is in with her now.”

“She’s not a doctor, is she?”

“Um–she’s um.” I could hear Ken struggling to say something which wouldn’t blow her away.

“She’s an angel, isn’t she?”

“Are there such things, I’m just a dumb surgeon?”

“But you brought her in to help me.”

“She came in with someone else. She sometimes does when we really need her, just don’t tell anyone about this.”

“I won’t, partly because I don’t know what I make of it and partly because if she helps Kim, I don’t want the press or anyone else pestering her.”

“Good, we’ll send you both up to the ward later, try and rest you lost quite a bit of blood.”

“Tell your angelic friend, thank you.”

“I will–don’t worry.”

I overheard all of that from the next cubicle. I touched the girl’s hand it was cold. I intuitively knew she was bleeding from her lungs into the pleural cavity. If she’d been conscious she’d have been in severe pain.

Once more I touched a chest and tried to cauterise the bleeding and ask the blood to return to its vessels and wait. Then I asked the lung tissue to start repairing itself and the ribs which had shattered when the telegraph post came down on the car to return to wholeness and to leave no fragments in her thorax.

Her breathing remained a hard struggle for her. “Kim, you’ve heard me asking your body to heal, now I want you to hold your breath for two seconds. I’ll count one, two–just like that. Okay, here we go–one and two.” I pushed down on her chest and she spewed a mass of blood and other fluid all over the place, but as soon as she stopped, she gasped in a huge breath and began crying.

“Can you get someone to clean her up?” I asked Ken, who I knew was standing behind me again.

“Of course I will. Thank you so much, Cathy. Simon told me it’s your birthday–we should be giving you presents instead you’ve given life back to two very sick people. Thanks.”

“So that’s why Simon fell–you needed me here?”

“Looks like it, the universe sent for you–but you wouldn’t have come without feeling a personal need to do so.“

“In other words, Simon.”

“I think so.”

“I hope they won’t say anything?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Where’s Simon?”

“I sent him up to the restaurant to get himself a cuppa and order one for you. Better go before it goes cold.”

I nodded and left.