The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1801 by Angharad Copyright © 2012 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I felt I was emerging from a lake, one full of treacle which sucked at me as I tried to pull myself free of it. Finally, after several false starts I did it, I got free and now I could find my way back to my loved ones.

I’d heard Simon’s voice taking to me, telling me things were okay, that I’d had a bleed on the scar in my lung but they’d managed to stop it and once they were confident I was strong enough, they’d take me off the assisted breathing and wake me up.

The problem was he always sounded as if he was the other side of the room or even talking to me over a wall. I felt him squeezing my hand, at least I think I did.

There were other voices too. They were usually female and they told me they were washing me or changing my bed. I took no notice of them, I was too busy trying to get out of the treacle lake.

How long all this went on, I had no idea. All I knew was that one day I opened my eyes and a very tired looking Simon was sitting alongside me, fast asleep. My eyes took a moment or two to focus, but it was him alright.

I cleared my throat–not easy when your mouth feels like it’s been carpeted all the way down to your oesophagus–Simon sat bolt upright and prised open his eyes. He glanced at me, and then looked away, glancing back a second later.

“You’re awake?” he said.

“I think so,” I replied my mouth thick with the carpeting.

He bent over me, “I was so frightened I was going to lose you.” Tears dripped off his nose onto my face. “I love you so much, babes.”

“Might I have a drink?” I said with difficulty.

He held a glass with a straw in it, one of those long bendy ones, and I sucked on it. The water didn’t taste very nice, but a couple of sips helped to freshen up my mouth.

“What happened?” I asked him.

“You started frothing blood and asked me to call for an ambulance. They took one look at you and brought you in here. You’ve been out for four days.”

“Out? Out where?” I gasped.

“Unconscious.”

“Oh.” I was obviously not quite with it yet.

“How are the children?” I asked after another sip of water.

“Fine, they all wanted to come in to see you, but I asked them to wait until you came home.”

I nodded. Talking took too much breath, and my chest hurt. It felt like they’d stitched it up with barbed wire. I wanted to look and see if they’d cut me open again. But eventually Si told me that they’d managed to do everything with a bronchoscope and a laser, cauterising the offending vein. My throat felt like they used an industrial laser and the wheels on it had caught on my tonsils.

They’d had to drain my lung which might have caused the soreness–sticking a hosepipe down my throat–one of the ones they use for cleaning out the drains in roads–the sort attached to a council bowser.

“How d’ya feel?” he asked after a time, most of which he spent staring at me.

“Like shit, you?”

He smiled and nodded. He still looked very tired, and I almost offered to swap places with him so he could get some sleep in the bed. He sported stubble that looked several days of growth. I suppose he could have been there for four days–that was frightening–who was looking after the kids?

“Who’s looking after the children?” I asked, my voice still quivering and my chest hurting with the extra effort to speak.

“They’re all fine. David and Jacquie, with help from Stella. Sammi and Julie help as well.”

“Did Sammi get home alright–didn’t she go out with someone?”

“I sent them both a text to say you were taken ill and they both came running soon after. They were really worried about you, especially when they saw the ambulance in the drive.”

“Sorry about that–I thought they’d take me straight down the tip and dump me. You could have found a proper wife then.” I felt my eyes fill with tears.

“I’ve got a proper wife now, and I’m talking to her. Don’t you ever leave me, Cathy! I couldn’t bear to live without you.” Tears were running down his face.

I nodded–it hurt to talk.

“Promise?” he asked, and I nodded again.

“Hurts to talk.” I managed to half croak and half wheeze.

“Okay.” He sat back and held onto my hand like a vice.

I drifted off to sleep and relaxed, he was still holding onto my hand, so I was safe. No one could hurt me while he was there, and I felt a surge of relief as I drifted away into a dreamless sleep.

I don’t know how much later I awoke, but he was still there, clinging on to my hand like his life depended on it, or perhaps he thought mine did. He was fast asleep again–I had to convince him to go home and rest or he was going to be ill as well, and that would over complicate things.

My chance came when Ken Nicholls came by. Simon startled into wakefulness by the door opening nearly fell off his chair.

“How are my sleeping beauties today?” asked Ken, and Simon was still too bleary to say much at all.

“Make him go home and sleep,” I rasped.

“Try not to speak too much, Cathy, in case it starts another bleed.”

I nodded. My family were going to love this–a mute mother who can’t tell them off–they’ll run riot. I’ll have to get an electronic bell or something.

Ken looked at my bedraggled husband, “She’s right you know, Simon. Go on home and get some shut eye. We can’t afford beds for both of you.”

Simon looked very hurt and was about to protest when Ken added, “She’s over the crisis. Go on home, we’ll call you if anything happens.”

I nodded at this and Simon saw it. I wished I hadn’t, because that started my head spinning and I felt I was going to be sick. I lay back and tried to breathe slowly and deeply, except that hurt, and I began to feel my heart rate increasing. I held my breath and released a slow exhalation and inhaled equally slowly, filling my lungs, but with less pain and eventually both the anxiety and the nausea passed.

Simon had been standing there watching me with a concerned look on his face. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked.

I smiled at him and said very quietly, “Go home and rest.”

He bent over and his rough face scratched mine, but I didn’t pull away. He kissed me and picked up his jacket and walked to the door. “I’ll be back later, love you.”

I blew him a kiss and he smiled as he left.

I was attacked by nurses checking blood pressure, drips and assorted other bits of me. “You need to drink more,” said one, then left me unable to reach my glass. I gave in and went back to sleep, too tired and too sore to say anything.