came back later and, well, you know the rest.’
‘Will you do me a favour?’ I asked. ‘Don’t ring Dad yet. I want to be the one who’s with her when she wakes.’
*
Reece was on duty, and he managed to set up a portable dialysis unit in the bed next to my mother’s. So Alfred bubbled beside me as I watched her. When she woke, I told myself, I wanted the first thing she saw to be me, her daughter. I hated that she’d see me this way, stuck with my Alfred, pathetic, immobile, sickly, but I had no choice. I barely blinked the whole time, afraid that I would miss the moment when she opened her eyes. She would be so overwhelmed. She would take a while to recognise me, a couple of seconds or so, I guessed. Then it would hit her, bang. That’s my daughter, my beautiful daughter, Georgie, and she would smile and say my name … Georgie.
I was thinking all this when she opened her eyes and looked at me, just as I imagined. She squinted. These were the two seconds it would take for her to recognise me. Just as the time I had allocated for this came to an end, she leant over the bed and puked.
‘Nurse! Nurse!’ she yelled. Her voice was high pitched and whiny. I didn’t expect her voice to be squeaky. Dad didn’t know this, but years ago I found some of the uncut films he’d made of her singing. Her singing voice was husky, nothing like this.
‘Get the fucking nurse and stop gawking, will you! Can you not see I’m fucking dying here!’
This request was for me, her beloved daughter. I pressed the buzzer beside me, watching as she sat up, wiped her mouth and repeatedly pressed her own buzzer with a thin angry finger.
My face didn’t usually go hot in difficult situations. I got angry a lot, but the physical symptoms were quickly released by yelling or hitting something. This time, with no such release, the anger – or was it surprise – made its way to my face. Even my eyebrows were burning.
‘Mrs Marion,’ the doctor said. He and a nurse had arrived. ‘You’re a very lucky woman. You could have died.’
‘I need to get out of here,’ she said.
‘Not today. We’re in the middle of running some tests and we want to keep an eye on you.’
‘But I have to get out of here. It’s very important. There’s somebody I have to see.’
My eyebrows cooled slightly. I smiled. Just as I thought, she was desperate to see us.
‘You need to get some rest. If there’s somebody I can ring for you, please tell me,’ the nurse said.
‘Just leave me alone,’ she answered, then coughed, then rasped, then coughed again.
When they left the room, my mum sat up and attempted to get off the bed. Her hands and legs were shaking. She grimaced every time she moved. I watched as she put her feet on the ground and opened the small bedside unit with her clothing inside.
‘Are you going?’ I said gently. Would she recognise my voice?
‘Mind your own business.’
‘Sorry,’ I said, ‘I was just wondering if there’s something I can do to help. You said you have to see somebody. Is it somebody important?’
She’d taken off the gown and was trying to put on her jeans. Her hip bones jutted out above the low waist. I could see her ribs. She had a greyish bra on, but she didn’t need it. She stood, zipped her jeans and pulled on a long colourful T-shirt dress. ‘You really want to help?’ she said.
‘Yeah.’
‘Then give me twenty quid and fuck off.’
23
While Georgie dealt with her illness by ignoring it as best she could (using alcohol and sex wherever possible ), Kay was not dealing with it at all. She couldn’t concentrate. Her exams were in a week, and she didn’t understand any of the notes she’d taken before her body had caved in. What does that line read? she wondered , staring at the chemistry book in front of her. It’s all blurry.
She knew she was seriously ill well before Georgie found out. She’d been nauseous and tired and unable to pee for a long time. Her father had
‘Will you do me a favour?’ I asked. ‘Don’t ring Dad yet. I want to be the one who’s with her when she wakes.’
*
Reece was on duty, and he managed to set up a portable dialysis unit in the bed next to my mother’s. So Alfred bubbled beside me as I watched her. When she woke, I told myself, I wanted the first thing she saw to be me, her daughter. I hated that she’d see me this way, stuck with my Alfred, pathetic, immobile, sickly, but I had no choice. I barely blinked the whole time, afraid that I would miss the moment when she opened her eyes. She would be so overwhelmed. She would take a while to recognise me, a couple of seconds or so, I guessed. Then it would hit her, bang. That’s my daughter, my beautiful daughter, Georgie, and she would smile and say my name … Georgie.
I was thinking all this when she opened her eyes and looked at me, just as I imagined. She squinted. These were the two seconds it would take for her to recognise me. Just as the time I had allocated for this came to an end, she leant over the bed and puked.
‘Nurse! Nurse!’ she yelled. Her voice was high pitched and whiny. I didn’t expect her voice to be squeaky. Dad didn’t know this, but years ago I found some of the uncut films he’d made of her singing. Her singing voice was husky, nothing like this.
‘Get the fucking nurse and stop gawking, will you! Can you not see I’m fucking dying here!’
This request was for me, her beloved daughter. I pressed the buzzer beside me, watching as she sat up, wiped her mouth and repeatedly pressed her own buzzer with a thin angry finger.
My face didn’t usually go hot in difficult situations. I got angry a lot, but the physical symptoms were quickly released by yelling or hitting something. This time, with no such release, the anger – or was it surprise – made its way to my face. Even my eyebrows were burning.
‘Mrs Marion,’ the doctor said. He and a nurse had arrived. ‘You’re a very lucky woman. You could have died.’
‘I need to get out of here,’ she said.
‘Not today. We’re in the middle of running some tests and we want to keep an eye on you.’
‘But I have to get out of here. It’s very important. There’s somebody I have to see.’
My eyebrows cooled slightly. I smiled. Just as I thought, she was desperate to see us.
‘You need to get some rest. If there’s somebody I can ring for you, please tell me,’ the nurse said.
‘Just leave me alone,’ she answered, then coughed, then rasped, then coughed again.
When they left the room, my mum sat up and attempted to get off the bed. Her hands and legs were shaking. She grimaced every time she moved. I watched as she put her feet on the ground and opened the small bedside unit with her clothing inside.
‘Are you going?’ I said gently. Would she recognise my voice?
‘Mind your own business.’
‘Sorry,’ I said, ‘I was just wondering if there’s something I can do to help. You said you have to see somebody. Is it somebody important?’
She’d taken off the gown and was trying to put on her jeans. Her hip bones jutted out above the low waist. I could see her ribs. She had a greyish bra on, but she didn’t need it. She stood, zipped her jeans and pulled on a long colourful T-shirt dress. ‘You really want to help?’ she said.
‘Yeah.’
‘Then give me twenty quid and fuck off.’
23
While Georgie dealt with her illness by ignoring it as best she could (using alcohol and sex wherever possible ), Kay was not dealing with it at all. She couldn’t concentrate. Her exams were in a week, and she didn’t understand any of the notes she’d taken before her body had caved in. What does that line read? she wondered , staring at the chemistry book in front of her. It’s all blurry.
She knew she was seriously ill well before Georgie found out. She’d been nauseous and tired and unable to pee for a long time. Her father had
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