Malc tossed and turned in his bed. He would be glad when Livvie came home.
It was his sister Julie who suggested the bolster. 'A big one' she said and it worked for a while, him hugging it, but in the end he kicked it out of the bed.'It might have worked if she was dead but she isn't. She's just down the road in that bloody big hospital'.
Mr. Singh, the consultant, was as gentle and honest as a person in his profession could be. 'Mr. Legard, what your wife needs is time' then he paused before continuing 'Lots of it'. Your mother is doing a good job with the children, Rachel and Peter isn't it? You can come in during the day as much as you like but you are no help to anyone if you do not try to rest, not least Mrs. Legard'.
Malc's wife, Livvie, had suffered a massive stroke down her left side and had yet to sit up in her hospital bed. Two physios were with her twice a day and Livvie was trying to get up and beginning to talk. Her first words to Malc had been 'I want to go the loo, not pee down a tube'.
On the day it all happened, Malc had shouted at a nurse in A&E 'Thirty-eight year olds don't have strokes'. What he struggled with was the anonymity of it all, her in a side room, in intensive care, all on her own. 'When can I take her home?' was a question the hospital didn't seem to understand. Mr Singh and his sister Julie did. His mum wasn't sure. Once Livvie was home she would want to do things, take charge again, which might help speed her recovery. Then again, she needed every ounce of what energy she had for herself if she was ever to recover. Livvie would always need help of that Ivy Legard was sure.
It had been nearly four weeks since Livvie had collapsed at the school gates. This fact alone had been enough to save her life. Two doctors, both mums, had been standing close by and Livvie was actually talking to Maggie, a nurse from across the road, when it happened. She later told Malc and Julie that when she saw Livvie arrive she thought she looked under the weather and asked her if she was alright? Livvie's reply were her last words. 'I've had bit of a head since getting up. I'll take two more Paracetamol when I get home'. 'She crumpled before me and I knew from her face she was having a stroke, and the others were with me in a second at most and, as for the ambulance, we could hear the siren before they even started work on her. It was all so quick'.
When he thought of the moment and what Maggie had said, guilt weighed up inside Malc. He had left her to sort the kids that morning, even though she didn't look well. His shift started at six, so he took a cup of tea to her in the bathroom and they kissed. 'You'll be alright' had been his last words.
It had been George, the duty manager, who called him over the radio. 'Stop when you get to the Queen Mary, Bett will be waiting for you. Your Livvie's been taken there. A fall or something. One of the lads saw it. Nothing to worry about I'm sure. Copy'.
Malc had replied 'Copy. Thanks George'. He only put down for the next two miles. Some of his regulars looked more puzzled than cross. 'I'll explain' he had shouted. Thank God his beloved 35s ran every ten minutes. It had been much more than 'a fall' of course and, now, Mr. Singh was saying 'Mr. Legard, Malcolm if I may, I think your wife is ready to come home, with daily visits from the community support team, but it will mean more work for you and your family you understand?.
And Malc cried for the first time since seeing his Livvie all wired up. 'Coming home, coming home' was all he could say.
© Robert Howard, 13 July 2021.
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