Wronking Dogbreath (aka Bike) Part 589 by Angharad

Tom took me to the hospital; Stella was a little more with it–for a few moments anyway. I told her I was keeping an eye on the baby for her, and she smiled, said a very quiet ,”Thanks,” and then seemed to drift off into her trance again. I hugged and kissed her before we left, “Shoulda let me jump,” she said suddenly and cried silently.

I wiped her tears and held her, “You’re far too precious to me, to let you do something like that.”

“If I was, you’d have let me do it.”

“No, Stella, you’re ill, this will pass and when you get back to your usual self, you’ll realise that.”

“As soon as I get outta here, I’m gonna finish it.”

“Please don’t say things like that.” She slipped back into her trance and ignored me. We left, Tom gave me a tissue to wipe my eyes as we went. It was awful, I’d never seen her so sad. She’d spoken in a monotone, almost as if she wasn’t really at home. If we ever get her well again, I am going to love her to bits and try to stop these destructive urges she gets.

As we walked to see Puddin’, I recalled hearing about the son of a lecturer at Sussex, who was Bi-polar or Schizophrenic, in severe cases it can be difficult to diagnose apparently, who jumped off a roof from a unit where he was being treated. He hit some railings on the way down. The way she looked tonight, she could well be up for such a thing. Looks like I get to bring up Puddin’ unless Henry and Monica do it. If I do, it’s only until Stella gets well again.

Puddin’ had gained another few grams and they were well pleased with her. She seemed to know she had a visitor and she became a little more active, maybe she wanted her fix of energy. Goodness, I’m getting as daft as the rest of them. This blue light stuff–it’s all bunkum. I’m a scientist for goodness sake, I don’t do all this mumbo-jumbo. If the child is growing it’s because she’s receiving excellent care from experts and mother’s milk.

“How long before she can come home?” I asked the nurse in charge.

“Depends on her progress, her lungs were undersized, but she’s doing all right. So I would suggest about a month.”

“Thanks,” by then I might have two hands again and Stella might be feeling better. Even the weather might be better–actually, it hadn’t been too bad for a week or so, although it was trying to rain as we drove in and the wind had freshened. It had been some very good cycling weather, and here I am doing my impression of Nelson.

I touched Puddin’ and she began gurgling and kicking. “She only does that for you, you know.”

“I hope you’re not just saying that to make me feel better.”

“Miss Watts, my responsibility is the child, I don’t care how the adults feel unless it impacts on the child.” That was telling me. “She seems better when you visit and she becomes more active as well.”

“Is that good or bad?” I asked.

“Good, it’s very good, it’ll help her coordination as she grows.”

“Sister, Stella seemed to be of the opinion that she heard two doctors talking about her baby which suggested she was brain damaged in some way.”

“Not that I’m aware of, mind you it’s early days yet and it can happen.”

“So it could have been her baby?”

“I doubt it, we did have badly brain damaged neo-natal last week, but he died.”

“So it could just as easily been that unfortunate baby?”

“Indeed, possibly was. No this one is doing fine for the moment. Do you want to give her a bottle?”

“Yes please, how long before we can cuddle her?”

“Another month, we do stroke them regularly to keep them happy, but it’s nothing like them cuddling with their mums.”

“No, I suppose not.”

“How many children do you have?”

“I have two foster daughters.”

“From babies?”

“No, one is three and the other coming up five.”

“Have you had them a long time?”

“A couple of months or so.”

“I thought it would have been longer than that?”

“Why?”

“The way you touch and speak with Baby Cameron.”

“Why? What am I doing that makes you think like that?”

“It’s hard to say, except it’s usually easy to tell a new mum and an experienced mum from each other. You definitely appear to be in the latter category. You’re not a nursery nurse or teacher?”

“I teach at a university, and at times it feels like they could do with a nursery nurse, but no, I’m not. I do look after baby dormice, or did. I’m on secondment, or was until this happened.” I moved my arm in the sling and winced.

“Collar bone?”

“Yes.”

“Fall off your bike?”

“Something like that.”

“Painful,” she said shaking her head and left me to continue tickling Puddin’, who was chuckling to herself and moving her legs. The scene was reminiscent of a baby bird trying to develop it’s flight muscles before it tries to hop out of the nest. With a bit of luck, this one will be leggin’ it down the road any day now–I wish.

Another nurse brought me a bottle of warmed milk and after testing it on the back of my other hand, I fed the baby. I could stay here all day doing this, well maybe not in here, but I love feeding babies. Okay, when they throw up and poop everywhere it isn’t so much fun, but I still love it, dunno why. But then I don’t know why or where I got this urge to become a woman, but I sure as hell don’t regret it.

Neither do I regret looking after two kids and standing here feeding a third. I do have regrets, however–the first is not being able to use both hands, and secondly, not being able to cuddle this lovely skinned rabbit, I’m feeding. I’m sure she’d love it too.

I managed to break away from this self indulgence and go and see Henry. Monica was there and she was quite miffed that when she’d visited Puddin’ they hadn’t invited her to give her a bottle.

“Perhaps they’d just fed her?” I offered, hoping it was true.

“Ah, but you don’t have Cathy’s special hands do you?” said Tom and I wondered if I could strangle him with just one hand.

“What’s special about Cathy’s hands?” asked Monica sounding slightly miffed.

“She gives healing to the baby, which is why she’s getting stronger.”

“Tom, you’re winding me up,” said Monica, sounding a bit like Prunella Scales in Fawlty Towers. “Healing hands, come on then Cathy, shove a bit of that stuff into your father in law to be.”

I was so embarrassed, I blushed like an atomic tomato. “Tom’s just winding you up,” I said defensively, “Tell her, Tom.” I almost pleaded with my eyes.

“Aye, you’re richt, I was just teasin’ ye.”

On the way back to the car, I spoke sharply to him, “People are going to think you’ve either gone barmy or religious if you keep on about this healing nonsense.”

“Cathy, I’m a scientist, I’ve used my eyes and my ears to measure and record things all my life. I can only speak what I’ve seen, and that is a blue light emanating from your hands into the bairn.”

“I think you need your eyes tested,” I said and walked on ahead of him.