"Lib.. Libby?.." Im lulled gently from my cocoon of comforting sleep. "Libby.." Reluctantly, my lids draw back to the unwelcome blade of sun slicing through the car window. I squint, confused.
Oh. Yeah.
"Lib.." Gary carries on, and im half aware hes helping me out of my seat belt. "Come on baby, we're here."
I nod in answer, but dont move. I dont want to move. I dont want to ever have to move, because if i do, i know that i have to face up to the darkening reality which lies behind the cold, harsh and unwelcoming doors of Manchester Royal Infirmary.
"Im scared."
"I know baby, come on." Gary brings the back of my hand to his lips briefly in a comforting gesture before slipping out of the car. I watch in the rear-view mirror as he makes his way hurriedly round to my door and swings it open. I dont move.
"Libby."
Lowering my gaze, i begin to chip off flakes of the newly applied red nail varnish, flicking it down onto the seat.
"Libby come on."
I notice the change in Garys tone as he says my name for the fifth, sixth, time in thirty seconds.
"Hmm?" Distracted, i glance up at him.
"Come on." He ushers once more. "You cant sit here forever."
"I dont want to go in." I mutter timidly, and to my surprise, Garys curses under his breath before crouching down on the pavement next to the car.
"Libby, look at me."
I do as he asks.
"Your dad is lying in intensive care at the moment, and your mums been at his bedside for most of the night, i think she could do with a little support dont you?"
I can almost taste the tang of guilt at Garys words. Hes right. Hesitantly, i nod my head.
"Good, come on then baby, im here with you okay?"
Gary's hand wraps protectively around mine as he strides his way trough a maze of repetitive white-wash corridors and the unwelcoming and hostile scent of too much antibacterial hand wash. I follow behind, a little slower, dazed and detached and relying entirely upon my husbands sense of direction in attempt to find my comatosed father.
Oh. Yeah.
"Lib.." Gary carries on, and im half aware hes helping me out of my seat belt. "Come on baby, we're here."
I nod in answer, but dont move. I dont want to move. I dont want to ever have to move, because if i do, i know that i have to face up to the darkening reality which lies behind the cold, harsh and unwelcoming doors of Manchester Royal Infirmary.
"Im scared."
"I know baby, come on." Gary brings the back of my hand to his lips briefly in a comforting gesture before slipping out of the car. I watch in the rear-view mirror as he makes his way hurriedly round to my door and swings it open. I dont move.
"Libby."
Lowering my gaze, i begin to chip off flakes of the newly applied red nail varnish, flicking it down onto the seat.
"Libby come on."
I notice the change in Garys tone as he says my name for the fifth, sixth, time in thirty seconds.
"Hmm?" Distracted, i glance up at him.
"Come on." He ushers once more. "You cant sit here forever."
"I dont want to go in." I mutter timidly, and to my surprise, Garys curses under his breath before crouching down on the pavement next to the car.
"Libby, look at me."
I do as he asks.
"Your dad is lying in intensive care at the moment, and your mums been at his bedside for most of the night, i think she could do with a little support dont you?"
I can almost taste the tang of guilt at Garys words. Hes right. Hesitantly, i nod my head.
"Good, come on then baby, im here with you okay?"
Gary's hand wraps protectively around mine as he strides his way trough a maze of repetitive white-wash corridors and the unwelcoming and hostile scent of too much antibacterial hand wash. I follow behind, a little slower, dazed and detached and relying entirely upon my husbands sense of direction in attempt to find my comatosed father.
"Ready?" Gary turns to face me far too soon as we stop a large, cheap looking plastic-wood doors, leading to a private suit. Its clearly marked 'intensive care' in an equally unsavoury blue and through the frosted glass of the tiny window i can just about make out the silhouette of a woman hunched over what i can only presume is my father. Mum.
I nod pathetically without saying a word in reply to Gary, and in response, he bends quickly to plant a swift kiss on my forehead, making minimal contact. I pout disapprovingly, but i know hes doing it for my sake. Any more contact and the urge to wrap my arms around him, hold him there forever and forget everything that is happening would cripple me. I look down at my feet to resist any temptation.
"Come on." He breathe quietly, pushing open the door, and before i can ask for just a little longer to prepare myself, someones body is being flung against mine.
"Oh Libby!" Mum chokes as she flings her arms around my neck. "Oh Libby! I dont know what happened, he was fine, he was fine and then i came back from the bank and i knew something was wron-"
"Mum, Mum.." I choke back the overwhelming urge to cry, again as i attempt to prise her away from my body and hold her shoulders at arms length. "Its okay.. its not your fault.. its not.." My voice fades away as my gaze falls steadily upon the sight of my dad, lying motionless and hooked up to machine after machine, drip after drip and breathing lightly into a ventilator mask. Oh Dad.
subconsciously im aware of Garys hand on my back, rubbing rhythmically as my mother weeps quietly in front of me.
"Can i see him?"
"Yes!" Mum gasps immediately as if shes scolding herself for keeping me from him of course. "Yes of course, of course you can."
Stepping forwards, out of the comfort of Garys touch, i make a short walk to the bedside and sit awkwardly down in the well-worn chair. And then, as i take my fathers surprisingly warm hand in mine, and gaze as his mask-clad face, reality hits. Hard. Like a blow to the stomach, winding and crippling me as a the haze and disbelief clears and the cold, stony truth lies before me. And then i begin to weep. And weep. And weep. Uncontrollably, dropping my head down onto the bedsheets, as i offer i silent prayer.
But soon, Gary is back, at my side, as he should always be. Soothing and hushing as he slides down, with difficulty, next to me, pulling my legs over his so im sat half over his lap, his hands reach for my shoulders and gently, he eases me up to bury my face in his neck. As the tears continue to fall, Garys hand stokes rhythmically through my hair, cradling my face to the crook of his neck, his lips occasionally brushing against my temple. I dont know how long im there for.
"Dont cry baby." Garys uncertain voice breaks the sounds of my petty sniffles. "Please dont cry, come on, be strong baby. Hell be okay."
"How do you know?" I cant help but voice the unasked question. Gary pauses for a brief moment, as if stumped, before his fingers resume their magical caress. And after another pause, he speaks.
"I just know these things.."
And for now, this is enough reassurance for me. So, summoning all of my inner strength, i pull away from Gary once more and gaze back at my comatosed father. Mums wondered off somewhere. At least i dont have an audience, as i take a deep breath, and begin to speak.
"Come on." He breathe quietly, pushing open the door, and before i can ask for just a little longer to prepare myself, someones body is being flung against mine.
"Oh Libby!" Mum chokes as she flings her arms around my neck. "Oh Libby! I dont know what happened, he was fine, he was fine and then i came back from the bank and i knew something was wron-"
"Mum, Mum.." I choke back the overwhelming urge to cry, again as i attempt to prise her away from my body and hold her shoulders at arms length. "Its okay.. its not your fault.. its not.." My voice fades away as my gaze falls steadily upon the sight of my dad, lying motionless and hooked up to machine after machine, drip after drip and breathing lightly into a ventilator mask. Oh Dad.
subconsciously im aware of Garys hand on my back, rubbing rhythmically as my mother weeps quietly in front of me.
"Can i see him?"
"Yes!" Mum gasps immediately as if shes scolding herself for keeping me from him of course. "Yes of course, of course you can."
Stepping forwards, out of the comfort of Garys touch, i make a short walk to the bedside and sit awkwardly down in the well-worn chair. And then, as i take my fathers surprisingly warm hand in mine, and gaze as his mask-clad face, reality hits. Hard. Like a blow to the stomach, winding and crippling me as a the haze and disbelief clears and the cold, stony truth lies before me. And then i begin to weep. And weep. And weep. Uncontrollably, dropping my head down onto the bedsheets, as i offer i silent prayer.
But soon, Gary is back, at my side, as he should always be. Soothing and hushing as he slides down, with difficulty, next to me, pulling my legs over his so im sat half over his lap, his hands reach for my shoulders and gently, he eases me up to bury my face in his neck. As the tears continue to fall, Garys hand stokes rhythmically through my hair, cradling my face to the crook of his neck, his lips occasionally brushing against my temple. I dont know how long im there for.
"Dont cry baby." Garys uncertain voice breaks the sounds of my petty sniffles. "Please dont cry, come on, be strong baby. Hell be okay."
"How do you know?" I cant help but voice the unasked question. Gary pauses for a brief moment, as if stumped, before his fingers resume their magical caress. And after another pause, he speaks.
"I just know these things.."
And for now, this is enough reassurance for me. So, summoning all of my inner strength, i pull away from Gary once more and gaze back at my comatosed father. Mums wondered off somewhere. At least i dont have an audience, as i take a deep breath, and begin to speak.
update soon
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