possible eventuality. ‘I guess it’s a good thing we don’t have to do this too often,’ he had said, catching my appalled expression.
I didn’t follow him into the appointment. Nathan and I sat on the comfortable chairs outside the consultant’s room. There was no hospital smell, and there were fresh flowers in a vase on the windowsill. Not just any old flowers, either. Huge exotic things that I didn’t know the name of, artfully arranged in minimalist clumps.
‘What are they doing in there?’ I said after we had been there half an hour.
Nathan looked up from his book. ‘It’s just his six-month check-up.’
‘What, to see if he’s getting any better?’
Nathan put his book down. ‘He’s not getting any better. It’s a spinal cord injury.’
‘But you do physio and stuff with him.’
‘That’s to try and keep his physical condition up – to stop him atrophying and his bones demineralizing, his legs pooling, that kind of thing.’
When he spoke again, his voice was gentle, as if he thought he might disappoint me. ‘He’s not going to walk again, Louisa. That only happens in Hollywood movies. All we’re doing is trying to keep him out of pain, and keep up whatever range of movement he has.’
‘Does he do this stuff for you? The physio stuff? He doesn’t seem to want to do anything that I suggest.’
Nathan wrinkled his nose. ‘He does it, but I don’t think his heart’s in it. When I first came, he was pretty determined. He’d come pretty far in rehab, but after a year with no improvement I think he found it pretty tough to keep believing it was worth it.’
‘Do you think he should keep trying?’
Nathan stared at the floor. ‘Honestly? He’s a C5/6 quadriplegic. That means nothing works below about here …’ He placed a hand on the upper part of his chest. ‘They haven’t worked out how to fix a spinal cord yet.’
I stared at the door, thinking about Will’s face as we drove along in the winter sunshine, the beaming face of the man on the skiing holiday. ‘There are all sorts of medicaladvances taking place, though, right? I mean … somewhere like this … they must be working on stuff all the time.’
‘It’s a pretty good hospital,’ he said evenly.
‘Where there’s life, and all that?’
Nathan looked at me, then back at his book. ‘Sure,’ he said.
I went to get a coffee at a quarter to three, on Nathan’s say so. He said these appointments could go on for some time, and that he would hold the fort until I got back. I dawdled a little in the reception area, flicking through the magazines in the newsagent’s, lingering over chocolate bars.
Perhaps predictably, I got lost trying to find my way back to the corridor and had to ask several nurses where I should go, two of whom didn’t even know. When I got there, the coffee cooling in my hand, the corridor was empty. As I drew closer, I could see the consultant’s door was ajar. I hesitated outside, but I could hear Mrs Traynor’s voice in my ears all the time now, criticizing me for leaving him. I had done it again.
‘So we’ll see you in three months’ time, Mr Traynor,’ a voice was saying. ‘I’ve adjusted those anti-spasm meds and I’ll make sure someone calls you with the results of the tests. Probably Monday.’
I heard Will’s voice. ‘Can I get these from the pharmacy downstairs?’
‘Yes. Here. They should be able to give you some more of those too.’
A woman’s voice. ‘Shall I take that folder?’
I realized they must be about to leave. I knocked, andsomeone called for me to come in. Two sets of eyes swivelled towards me.
‘I’m sorry,’ said the consultant, rising from his chair. ‘I thought you were the physio.’
‘I’m Will’s … helper,’ I said, hanging on to the door. Will was braced forward in his chair as Nathan pulled down his shirt. ‘Sorry – I thought you were done.’
‘Just give us a minute, will you, Louisa?’ Will’s voice cut into the
I didn’t follow him into the appointment. Nathan and I sat on the comfortable chairs outside the consultant’s room. There was no hospital smell, and there were fresh flowers in a vase on the windowsill. Not just any old flowers, either. Huge exotic things that I didn’t know the name of, artfully arranged in minimalist clumps.
‘What are they doing in there?’ I said after we had been there half an hour.
Nathan looked up from his book. ‘It’s just his six-month check-up.’
‘What, to see if he’s getting any better?’
Nathan put his book down. ‘He’s not getting any better. It’s a spinal cord injury.’
‘But you do physio and stuff with him.’
‘That’s to try and keep his physical condition up – to stop him atrophying and his bones demineralizing, his legs pooling, that kind of thing.’
When he spoke again, his voice was gentle, as if he thought he might disappoint me. ‘He’s not going to walk again, Louisa. That only happens in Hollywood movies. All we’re doing is trying to keep him out of pain, and keep up whatever range of movement he has.’
‘Does he do this stuff for you? The physio stuff? He doesn’t seem to want to do anything that I suggest.’
Nathan wrinkled his nose. ‘He does it, but I don’t think his heart’s in it. When I first came, he was pretty determined. He’d come pretty far in rehab, but after a year with no improvement I think he found it pretty tough to keep believing it was worth it.’
‘Do you think he should keep trying?’
Nathan stared at the floor. ‘Honestly? He’s a C5/6 quadriplegic. That means nothing works below about here …’ He placed a hand on the upper part of his chest. ‘They haven’t worked out how to fix a spinal cord yet.’
I stared at the door, thinking about Will’s face as we drove along in the winter sunshine, the beaming face of the man on the skiing holiday. ‘There are all sorts of medicaladvances taking place, though, right? I mean … somewhere like this … they must be working on stuff all the time.’
‘It’s a pretty good hospital,’ he said evenly.
‘Where there’s life, and all that?’
Nathan looked at me, then back at his book. ‘Sure,’ he said.
I went to get a coffee at a quarter to three, on Nathan’s say so. He said these appointments could go on for some time, and that he would hold the fort until I got back. I dawdled a little in the reception area, flicking through the magazines in the newsagent’s, lingering over chocolate bars.
Perhaps predictably, I got lost trying to find my way back to the corridor and had to ask several nurses where I should go, two of whom didn’t even know. When I got there, the coffee cooling in my hand, the corridor was empty. As I drew closer, I could see the consultant’s door was ajar. I hesitated outside, but I could hear Mrs Traynor’s voice in my ears all the time now, criticizing me for leaving him. I had done it again.
‘So we’ll see you in three months’ time, Mr Traynor,’ a voice was saying. ‘I’ve adjusted those anti-spasm meds and I’ll make sure someone calls you with the results of the tests. Probably Monday.’
I heard Will’s voice. ‘Can I get these from the pharmacy downstairs?’
‘Yes. Here. They should be able to give you some more of those too.’
A woman’s voice. ‘Shall I take that folder?’
I realized they must be about to leave. I knocked, andsomeone called for me to come in. Two sets of eyes swivelled towards me.
‘I’m sorry,’ said the consultant, rising from his chair. ‘I thought you were the physio.’
‘I’m Will’s … helper,’ I said, hanging on to the door. Will was braced forward in his chair as Nathan pulled down his shirt. ‘Sorry – I thought you were done.’
‘Just give us a minute, will you, Louisa?’ Will’s voice cut into the
Similar Books
