sang ‘Michael, Row the Boat Ashore’ and got me into big trouble with the nurses.
Ryan needed to protect Betsy from these people, but how could I tell him?
I had an uprush of unbearable frustration. Look at the state of Betsy – her school shirt wasn’t ironed and her blazer had a strange yellow stain on the lapel. And why was her chin a cluster of spots? Was it simply because she was fifteen? Or because she was living on complete rubbish?
I hadn’t a clue what the household were eating – no one told me and I couldn’t ask – but there wasn’t much chance that Ryan was cooking healthy meals. He could barely open a jar.
It was no good being cross with him; that end of things had always been my responsibility. The unspoken agreement was that Ryan was the talent and I was the second-in-command.
‘I’m going to step away now,’ Betsy said, ‘and give you and Dad some alone time.’
Ryan took the vacated chair and gingerly held my hand. ‘So …’ He looked utterly despondent. ‘Karen will be in tomorrow instead of me,’ he said. ‘I’ve got to fly to the Isle of Man to pitch for a project.’
Since my first day in hospital he hadn’t missed a single visit, but life had to go on.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
It’s okay. It’s fine.
‘I’ve got to keep working.’
I know.
‘I’ll miss you.’
I’ll miss you too.
‘Oh!’ Something just occurred to him. ‘I can’t find mysmall wheely case. Where do you think –’ He stopped when he realized that I wouldn’t be able to answer.
Under the stairs. It’s under the stairs.
I always packed for his trips. This was the first time he’d had to do it in years.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘I’ll buy a new one, a cheap yoke. It’s grand. When you can speak again you can tell me where it is.’
‘Time!’ the nurse called and Ryan jumped to his feet. ‘Come on, Betsy.’
He gave me a quick peck on the forehead. ‘See you in a couple of days.’
There was no soppiness. The circles we moved in, displays of spousal affection were regarded with deep suspicion. The rules were that the men referred to their wives as ‘the wife’ or ‘Earache’, and the women complained that their husbands were lazy cretins who couldn’t tie their own shoelaces. On your wedding anniversary you said things like, ‘Fifteen years? If I’d murdered someone I’d be free by now.’
But I knew how strong Ryan and I were. We weren’t just a couple; we were part of a family of four, a tight little unit. Despite how much we all bickered – and of course we did, we were perfectly normal – we knew that without the others we were nothing.
Ryan loved me. I loved him. This was the hardest test we’d had in our eighteen years together, but I knew we’d survive it.
Had it been the mussels in that restaurant in Malahide? Or the prawns in the reduced-price sandwich? They say you should never take chances with shellfish, but it hadn’t been out of date, it just had to be eaten that
day
. Which I had.
I was at it again, trying to remember every meal I’d eaten in the weeks before the tingling in my fingers had started,wondering which had contained whatever bacteria had triggered Guillain-Barré in me.
Could it have been the chemicals I worked with in the salon? Or had I accidentally had a swine-flu jab? They often preceded a bout of GBS. But a swine-flu jab wasn’t the sort of thing that you wouldn’t notice having …
But maybe it wasn’t food poisoning or chemicals or swine-flu jabs. Guillain-Barré was so very rare that I had to wonder if the cause was something different, something darker. Maybe – as Betsy had hinted – God was punishing me because I wasn’t a good person.
But I
was
a good person. Remember that time I’d scraped a car with my crappy parking in a multi-storey car park and, after wrestling with my conscience for a good five minutes
and
checking to see if there was CCTV – there wasn’t – I’d left my phone number under
Ryan needed to protect Betsy from these people, but how could I tell him?
I had an uprush of unbearable frustration. Look at the state of Betsy – her school shirt wasn’t ironed and her blazer had a strange yellow stain on the lapel. And why was her chin a cluster of spots? Was it simply because she was fifteen? Or because she was living on complete rubbish?
I hadn’t a clue what the household were eating – no one told me and I couldn’t ask – but there wasn’t much chance that Ryan was cooking healthy meals. He could barely open a jar.
It was no good being cross with him; that end of things had always been my responsibility. The unspoken agreement was that Ryan was the talent and I was the second-in-command.
‘I’m going to step away now,’ Betsy said, ‘and give you and Dad some alone time.’
Ryan took the vacated chair and gingerly held my hand. ‘So …’ He looked utterly despondent. ‘Karen will be in tomorrow instead of me,’ he said. ‘I’ve got to fly to the Isle of Man to pitch for a project.’
Since my first day in hospital he hadn’t missed a single visit, but life had to go on.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said.
It’s okay. It’s fine.
‘I’ve got to keep working.’
I know.
‘I’ll miss you.’
I’ll miss you too.
‘Oh!’ Something just occurred to him. ‘I can’t find mysmall wheely case. Where do you think –’ He stopped when he realized that I wouldn’t be able to answer.
Under the stairs. It’s under the stairs.
I always packed for his trips. This was the first time he’d had to do it in years.
‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘I’ll buy a new one, a cheap yoke. It’s grand. When you can speak again you can tell me where it is.’
‘Time!’ the nurse called and Ryan jumped to his feet. ‘Come on, Betsy.’
He gave me a quick peck on the forehead. ‘See you in a couple of days.’
There was no soppiness. The circles we moved in, displays of spousal affection were regarded with deep suspicion. The rules were that the men referred to their wives as ‘the wife’ or ‘Earache’, and the women complained that their husbands were lazy cretins who couldn’t tie their own shoelaces. On your wedding anniversary you said things like, ‘Fifteen years? If I’d murdered someone I’d be free by now.’
But I knew how strong Ryan and I were. We weren’t just a couple; we were part of a family of four, a tight little unit. Despite how much we all bickered – and of course we did, we were perfectly normal – we knew that without the others we were nothing.
Ryan loved me. I loved him. This was the hardest test we’d had in our eighteen years together, but I knew we’d survive it.
Had it been the mussels in that restaurant in Malahide? Or the prawns in the reduced-price sandwich? They say you should never take chances with shellfish, but it hadn’t been out of date, it just had to be eaten that
day
. Which I had.
I was at it again, trying to remember every meal I’d eaten in the weeks before the tingling in my fingers had started,wondering which had contained whatever bacteria had triggered Guillain-Barré in me.
Could it have been the chemicals I worked with in the salon? Or had I accidentally had a swine-flu jab? They often preceded a bout of GBS. But a swine-flu jab wasn’t the sort of thing that you wouldn’t notice having …
But maybe it wasn’t food poisoning or chemicals or swine-flu jabs. Guillain-Barré was so very rare that I had to wonder if the cause was something different, something darker. Maybe – as Betsy had hinted – God was punishing me because I wasn’t a good person.
But I
was
a good person. Remember that time I’d scraped a car with my crappy parking in a multi-storey car park and, after wrestling with my conscience for a good five minutes
and
checking to see if there was CCTV – there wasn’t – I’d left my phone number under
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