Difficult as visiting someone in hospital...

Easy As Falling Off A Bike.
by Angharad
part 68

The drive from home to the hospital wasn't very far. Southmead is a large hospital in which it is very easy to get lost as I discovered. It took me longer to find the ward from the car park, than it did to drive from the house to the hospital.

Eventually after a few false starts, I did manage to locate ward S2 and when I got there found he had been moved to ward P3 for stroke rehabilitation. I kept my cool and wandered about for another quarter of an hour. Sadly wards P and S were not in the same block.

I was aware of my heels clattering up and down the corridors and also that my feet were not entirely appreciating the fact that I was wearing those boots again.

Eventually, I happened on ward P3 and discovered he was actually on P1, I let the nurse know that I was PO'd, she apologised and pointed me in the general direction of the new ward. If I'd walked over much more of the place I could lead tours.

Finally, with tired and aching feet I entered ward P1 and didn't need to ask if he was there, I could see him. He looked so small and my stomach flipped. "Can I help you?" I jumped at the voice which came unsighted from my left side.

I spun around and a young nurse was stood by the side of me. "Yes, I've come to see my father, Derek Watts."

"He's along there, third bed on the left."

"Yes I can see him, can he speak?"

"Oh yes, but he gets a bit confused and frustrated."

"Nothing new there then."

"I beg pardon," she gave me a strange look.

"I was joking." I blushed getting even hotter than I was feeling already.

"Oh, okay."

I nodded to her and went to my father's bedside, he was sleeping but I could see the right side of his face was drooping and he dribbled a little. The characteristic Bell's Palsy of a stroke, it made me feel pity. Here before me lay a man who was still taller than I was, but he looked somehow diminished lying helplessly. His right hand was clenched into a fist and I suspect he wouldn't be able to move the fingers if he wanted to.

I sat alongside him on his left side and gently grasped his left hand. "Hello Daddy."

His eyes opened and he took a moment to register where I was, let alone who I was. "It's me, Cathy."

"Affy," he mumbled and smiled. "Affy."

I rubbed his hand against my face, "How are you?"

"Bad," he said more loudly and shook his head.

"It's early days yet, you may feel better tomorrow." I squeezed his hand, he smiled and squeezed back. "I brought you some pyjamas and some toiletries."

He nodded, and seemed to be thinking. "'ike vou uvver."

I had to stop and think what he said, "I'm like my mother?"

"'es." He nodded to confirm what I'd said as right.

"You said that to me before, which I take as a compliment." I smiled at him and squeezed his hand. He looked so pathetic like some lion that had been deposed by a younger one and had just blundered into a pack of hyenas.

I tidied up his bedside locker and wiped the dribble from his face. I also combed his hair and made him feel a little tidier in himself. He thanked me for my help and I felt a lump in my throat.

Not that long ago this man was the biggest threat to my safety I had ever faced, now he could barely stand up let alone threaten me. How were the mighty fallen, it was very sad and I had dificulty not crying in front of him.

"I'm staying at the house for the moment, but I don't know how long I can get off my course," I lied. I didn't want to commit to anything and I couldn't bring myself to suggest I would help him in the long term. Why should I? Because he's your father and he needs you, came back the answer.

"Monday," I thought he said.

"Monday?" I repeated.

"No, no." He shook his head violently.

"Monday," he shook his head, "Monday," he thrashed about in his bed.
Then he unclasped his hand from mine and rubbed his thumb over his fingers.

"Money, are you trying to say money?"

" 'es, monday," he shook his head in frustration.

"What you need some money?"

"No, no, vou do." He pointed at me to emphasise the point.

"I'm okay for the moment."

"No, no. Vou do."

"Okay so I need money, but how are we going to get it, you can hardly write a cheque for it can you?"

"Vou 'ank."

"Me, go to the bank?"

"'es."

"Alright I'll go and speak to the bank, but it won't be easy for them to believe me. To start with I don't have much in the way of ID with me."

"Vou do."

"Okay, I'll go and see them on monday. What about work, do they know?"

" 'es."

"Anyone else you want me to tell? Auntie Doreen?"

"No,no."

Okay so he didn't want to let his sister know he was ill. I felt relieved, she wasn't my favourite relative, although my cousin David was a nice kid despite his parents. He was going to study law at Oxford, the last I'd heard, even more of a bookworm than I was.

"So there's no one else you want me to notify?"

"No no."

"Okay. Is there anything else you need. I brought you some tissues, some deodorant, your flannel and two pairs of jarmies, oh and your slippers. I've got some change for you too," and put a fiver's worth of coin in a money bag, into his drawer. "Do you want any books or magazines?"

"No no," he shook his head.

"I met Margaret Soames, she was kind enough to let me know what had happened."

He nodded, "'ice 'ady."

"Yes she seemed quite nice. She invited me to dinner tonight and to meet her husband, George?" I deliberately got the name wrong to see if he understood what I was saying.

"'eg," he said shaking his head.

"Egg?" I said quizzically.

" 'arget add 'eg," he struggled to say.

"Greg?"

" 'es."

"Of course his name is Greg, I called him George. Silly me, maybe I should be blonde?"

He nodded and smiled.

"Gee thanks Daddy," I looked at him reproachfully.

He laughed at this then coughed.

We carried on in this vein for another hour during which time I fed him his tea, a cottage pie and some jelly and ice cream. It felt strangely comfortable that I was mothering my own father, although I suppose tending the sick isn't really gender specific. Was it just me exerting my dominance while he was weakened, sort of the king is dead, long live the queen! I didn't know.

When I left the ward it was with regret. He needed me for the first time in his life, for the first time in mine, I was wanted. I wasn't sure how to process all this new emotional stuff. So rapt in my own internal thoughts I didn't realise that I was completely lost with regard to geography, having wandered without being aware of where I was going.

My feet were burning by the time I found my way to the car park and sat in the car. Fortunately getting home was relatively easy. It was dark by the time I pulled into the drive. I presumed my father's car was in the garage but I'd check that in the morning.

I let myself into the house which now felt a little eerie in the shadows from the street lights. I half expected my mother to ask how he was. She didn't of course, how could she? But in my head she did and in the same place I answered her.

I went and showered, changing into a skirt and top that was neither too sexy nor too covered up. With the booster pads, I had a bit of a cleavage if you were stood close enough. Then I made up my bed, the duvet and sheets were ones I'd used when I'd lived there. I also hung up my clothes on the front of the wardrobe, my old clothes were still hanging inside and I didn't want to revisit those.

At eight o'clock I knocked on the door of my neighbours, a house about fifty yards up the road from ours. I had a small bunch of flowers and some wine.