People visited as often as they could.
Raymond (my son by a previous marriage)
told me that when I was in HDU he had
held my little finger and talked to me.
Apparently, I had tried to talk back.
Laughable in hindsight considering the
surgery I had undergone; but under the
influence of the drugs I was still giving it a
go.
Susie kept everyone up to date, but it
wasn’t easy. The hospital said very little
and she had to prise the information out
of them. It was like pulling teeth. By the
end of it, Susie and Raymond were bashing
tables and demanding answers.
This was just the start of our problems. My
recovery was slow and painful. And things
began to take their toll. Neither Susie
nor I were convinced that the anger and
depression we had endured for the past
months had gone. We would have good
days and bad days. In over twenty years of
marriage I could count on one hand the
amount of arguments we had had, but after
all this, there could be one or more in a
single day. I found myself wondering when
I woke, what sort of day it would be...
We knew our children must have been
badly affected, but being so young they
didn’t want to let on. Nevertheless, they
suffered sleepless nights while I was in
hospital; they complained of headaches
and other aches and pains. Was it as a direct
result of everything that had happened?
Was it just boys being boys and trying to
seek attention? Or was it that Mum and
Dad didn’t act the same way anymore? I
don’t know.
We were advised to try counselling. During
and after my stay, Susie had numerous
sessions, but couldn’t really say if it had
actually helped. A counsellor even came to
speak to the boys, but it was obvious they
weren’t interested. She left with about as
much information as she’d arrived with.
Four months after leaving hospital, my
counselling invitation finally arrived. After
all I had been through; I was finally being
given the opportunity to try to sort my
head out. But I wondered if it would really
help after all this time and refused the
appointment.
Positions in the household changed. After
more than twenty years, I was no longer
the breadwinner, so the responsibility
fell on Susie. As an Accountant, I knew I
could earn more than her, but I couldn’t
do anything until my GP certified me fit for
work again. Even then, would anyone want
to employ me? I knew I was no less of an
Accountant, but I couldn’t speak properly
and I wasn’t very easy on the eye. That was
really brought home to me when I found
an old photo my previous employers had
taken of me for a Shareholder’s Report. I
was shocked to discover just how much I’d
changed in five years.
Even Susie didn’t like to be seen out with
me anymore as facially I had changed
so much. I secretly nicknamed her ‘The
Queen’ on the basis that I had to be at least
three feet behind her whenever we were
out together. I didn’t like it, but I had, and
would still have no argument at the end of
the day.
*With thanks to The Beatles for chapter titles
and lyrics.
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READ PART TWO IN THE NEXT EDITION
OF THE VOICE
Autumn 2011 | THE VOICE
9