The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1332 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

They gave Trish a sedative, and I was allowed to cuddle her until she fell asleep. Sam Rose appeared a little later and I was invited into his office, a nurse promising to let me know if she woke.

“Cathy, I’m not sure of what’s going on in Trish’s head, and I’ll call her Trish for now, because that’s who I think she really is. The symptoms could be due to the bump on her head, it’s the frontal lobe which would have taken most of the impact unless there was a jolt effect as well, in which case anything could have happened. However, we can't see any evidence of brain injury other than the concussion.”

“I’m not sure I follow you, Sam. The amnesia, the blindness–don’t tell me she’s imagining that?”

“The blindness is well documented after head injuries and clears up fairly quickly, unless there is some organic damage to an area of vision, but it didn’t show in the scan. The amnesia was intriguing–she appeared to have forgotten most of her life. Yet remembered before her time in the home and with you.”

“You’re suggesting she imagined it or made it up?”

“No, even little Einstein out there isn’t that clever–if she was sixteen, yes and she’d keep it going until she punished you for whatever imaginary slight you’d given her. So it’s intriguing.”

“It’s funny before this happened we were talking about the healing I do and she wanted me to see if I could change her into a genetic female.”

“That would be a nice trick if you could do it, presumably on yourself first?”

“I don’t think it works like that, and I refused to do it on the grounds that I didn’t think it would work and at the back of my mind I had a what if scenario, which was even less satisfactory.”

“Which was?”

“What if the cause of some people’s transgenderism is an anomaly and the energy recognised it...”

“And turned her back into a boy..."

"Ouch, talk about convoluted–but you said you didn’t heal her?”

“But I did when she ran into the tree–it wasn’t conscious, I just felt it flowing into her.”

“So are you trying to tell me that the energy punished her?”

“I have no idea what happened–except she came to and told me I wasn’t her mother and her name wasn’t Trish it was Patrick.”

“I find the healing something of an irony, given your agnosticism.”

“Don’t you think that hasn’t occurred to me?”

“But then good people don’t have to be godly, do they–think Good Samaritan.”

“Sam, I understand what you’re saying, but I don’t think I compare with a character in a biblical parable.”

“Oh I don’t know, you pick ‘em up off the street, feed ‘em, clothe and house ‘em–all at your own expense, while others walk by–sound familiar?”

“You’re taking it out of context, Sam.”

“Yeah, okay–besides we know you have angelic status–so I’ll ignore the comparison.”

“Saaaam,” I protested and he gave a dirty chuckle.

“Dr Rose, you’re wanted in A&E.”

“Sorry, I have to go–I get to fix the bits the surgeons can’t superglue back together.”

“Thanks,” I said.

“What for? Look, I assume you’re going to hang around a bit longer?”

“I’m going back to my vigil,” I smiled.

“Good–okay, look, I’ve got some food arriving a bit later–I’ll give you a call.”

“I don’t feel particularly hungry,” I didn’t either.

“Good, that’ll leave more for me, I’ll give you a shout later,” and before I could protest he took off down the corridor.

At least he wasn’t frosty towards me–so things are better there. I made my way back to the children’s unit and sat with Trish. She was fast asleep and according to the nurse likely to stay that way for several hours. She loaned me a blanket and a spare pillow and I curled up as best I could in the chair beside my daughter.

Simon called by at nine with a flask of soup–he’d opened a tin of tomato soup and brought in a couple of slices of bread as well, plus an apple and some chocolate. I hugged him and thanked him. Before I could eat any of it, Sam sent for me and he told me to go, he’d watch Trish–“’Bout time I spent some quality time with her.”

I gave him a very old fashioned look and he fell about laughing.

I was directed to Sam’s office where we’d been talking beforehand, when I knocked he called me to enter and laid out on his desk was a set of Chinese takeaway food. At his insistence I tucked into special chicken fried rice and pork and mushrooms, some bean sprouts and water chestnuts–all washed down with a can of ginger beer.

He was just about to start chatting when he was paged again, “Sorry, I have to go.”

“Thanks for my supper, it was delicious, can I clean up for you?”

“No, I’ll do that later, you get back to that little girl.”

I made a toilet stop on the way back and returned to find Simon just finishing the tomato soup and bread. He got peckish.

After he left, I spoke to Trish and told her I was there beside her and she needn’t be afraid. I slept a little but during the wee sma’ ’oors I craved the comfort of my own bed, not the tribute to discomfort, the NHS chair offered–probably intended to stop visitors becoming too comfortable–in which case it worked. In the end I lay on my coat with the blanket over me on the floor–a very hard floor.

“Mummy, where are you?” whimpered a small voice during the night and I banged my head jumping up to comfort her.

“I’m here, sweetheart.” I stroked her hand. “Can you see, me?”

“No, Mummy, I think I’m blind.” She began to cry.

“It’s okay, darling, Dr Rose thinks it will pass in a short while,” I said one arm round her the other rubbing the bit of my brain which tried to move a twenty ton hospital bed.

“How d’you feel, my darling?” I asked her as she calmed down.

“Frightened, if I can’t read again or see you and the others or my laptop–it’ll be awful,” she began to sob again.

“Hush there, sweetheart, Dr Rose usually knows what he’s doing, doesn’t he?”

“Yes, Mummy.”

“I mean, he suggested you come to live with me when you wanted to become Trish, didn’t he?”

“Yes, Mummy, an’ I’m so glad I did–I hated being a boy.”

“You never were a boy, Trish, it’s just what other people thought.”

“That’s right, Mummy, a girl with an outie.”

“Not even that now, you’re a real girl.”

“Am I, Mummy, have I got girl bits?”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, I don’t think so.”

“Oh well, at least I won’t have monthlies, will I–where I feel awful and get all crabby like you do.”

“I don’t get all crabby, young lady.”

“Hee hee,” she sniggered, “Nearly got you going.”

“I’ll shoot you, missy–the lip I get from you lot–honestly, I think I’ll send you all to the cat’s home.”

“Can we have a pussy cat, Mummy?”

“I’ll think about it if you get your sight back, otherwise it would be yet another hazard to fall over.”

“I can see, Mummy.”

“How many fingers have I got up?” I held a finger from each hand in front of her.

“Four.”

“That was a guess.”

“No it wasn’t, Mummy.”

I held up one finger.

“Two, Mummy.”

“You can’t see, can you?”

“I’m sure I will, Mummy, especially if Dr Rose says so.”

I hugged her but I was extremely worried how we’d all cope if her sight didn’t return. That would be a cruel outcome and I’d have to really reconsider what I felt about the blue energy.