| The Awakening
Later
he was never to be quite sure when he had awoken, there had just been an
all-pervading familiar sense of comfort, that was it, his first thoughts
had been of comfort. He had congratulated himself on the purchase
of their bed, boy had that been a palaver, she had treated the whole thing
like one of her famous shoe-buying expeditions. Any number of shops,
always the same rubbish from the salesman; bigger was better, higher was
better, harder was better .. he had smiled to himself, been a while since
he had been allowed those thoughts. That smile had somehow brought
his first unease, a realisation of discordance. His precious early
morning stretch, that lovely own-space, world-can’t-hurt-me feeling ..
why had he not felt sheets sliding over splayed limbs, felt contact with
Maria .. where was she, and for that matter where were the sheets?
Why hadn’t he moved?
The
darkness had nourished his fear, his body had had so little to say for
itself: that wordless communication, so unknowingly seamless, so obvious
now by its absence. Darkness? He couldn’t see anything, cloying
darkness had clung to him, a plastic glove, suffocating .. suffocating?
Buried alive? Oh God, his first real movement had brought an existence-denying
blinding flash of overwhelming pain.
Later,
returning awareness, the unchanged unknowing taunting images of his old
school chapel, echoing prayers, the painted eyes of a Deity long since
neglected, frequently denied, now indifferent. Lying, barely breathing,
he had known that pain, his closest and only companion, now lay beside
him watching waiting hungry to explore his being further. He had
shivered, paid the price suddenly grateful that the resulting agony had
only burned across his chest, a shamed gratitude to the torturer, knowing
that the pain already knew him better than his wife, his friends, his beloved
Morgan.
Morgan?
Momentarily he checked his hungry search for memory, for explanation, for
reassurance: of course, he had gone to the garage to check .. that was
it, for an oil leak. Something had come for him, he couldn’t remember,
what on Earth had happened ... he lay very still knowing with a sick certainty
that it had an immortal patience, that it would wait for his next move,
any move.
How
many hours had lain in the darkness: clearly he wasn’t dead, what was the
point of pain if you were dead? It was harder to breathe, DON'T gasp, don't
panic. What had happened, he still hadn’t really moved, he was blind:
perhaps he had been ill, perhaps he had been in an accident? Thirsty,
he knew now that he had never before been thirsty, why couldn’t he move,
why couldn’t he see, why was it so hard to breathe?
Wait,
be precise, he had just moved his left hand, just a little. Be systematic,
take an inventory. What was it that they had taught him, check the
airway, speak to the injured person, gauge state of consciousness. Coherent?
Was he coherent? No, don’t smile, remember your last attempt.
He couldn't breathe, the pain came again, more insistent, he struggled,
bad mistake.
‘Hello
Sir’, can you hear me? ‘Hello’, again, the voice louder this time,
insistent, hands on his shoulders, gentle clenching pressure. ‘We’ll
soon have you out of there, just hang on’ .. ‘Whats your name, do you know
where you are’. He mumbled his name, tongue filling his dry mouth, blind.
‘I
didn’t dare try to move you’, Maria’s voice from darkness, cracked, too
calm, ‘I didn’t know how to jack up the car without crushing you’.
Cool
water on his face, caked blood, dust washing from his eyes, unable to focus
against blinding daylight, garage door open. A short-sleeved shirt
with colourful patches, a plastic mask on his face, a sudden sharp prick
into his arm.
‘We’ll
soon have you out of there’, the medic grunted, helping his colleague with
a heavy piece of equipment, ‘neat trick putting the wheels underneath this
old car ... saved your life’, NO don’t go to sleep, hello can you hear
me, hello …”
The
ambulance swayed, its tyres dug into yet another corner, his chest hurt.
The World was a little distant somehow, he loved that returning sense of
comfort, no pain, that was even better. Smiling again, strange, it
had never occurred to him that the siren was heard all the time from inside
an ambulance, no plastic mask, he mumbled through a gathering warm and
welcoming mist.. ‘what happened, why did Moggie fall on me, four axle stands’,
‘much damage?’
A
slow sigh of relief from Maria, ‘It was an earthquake, there was no-one
hurt from the family, the house is OK .., your car toppled’. ‘I’m
so very sorry, it took me a little while to realise that you were still
in the garage’, she sobbed, ‘it all happened so fast, you were only under
there minutes’. The ambulance swayed again, harder this time, stopped,
doors swinging open, ‘excuse me’, a male voice .. ‘madam, excuse me, we
need to move him into the hospital, it’ll be alright’.
There
was no pain.
|
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