The Time Traveller
13: Clunlade 30-03-84
You know, I nearly died two different times from two different things?
I remember very little of my first Hospital stay. I must have been around five? I do remember an old wood panelled and slightly intimidating looking Ward, one of those old fashioned ones where Patients were an inconvenience. I did, however, manage to make friends with two fellow Patients, around my own tender age.
Mostly, all I remember about them was that one was the taller of the two and was more authoritative than the other, shorter one. The shorter one showed his subordination to the taller one, with the two of them treating me like the new inmate in a Victorian Prison and showing me the ropes. You know, the usual? Of who not to piss off, which Matron to avoid, and so on. Oh, certainly, and if it had not happened to me, it could almost be regarded as a cliché, except that it did happen.
The time of my Operation had arrived. The Preparation Room, or Anaesthetic Room - I have no idea what it was called and it doesn’t really matter - looked out into the Operating Theatre, with the functional criss-cross design of toughened glass back then.
And what could I see through that window? A darkened room with a single bright light focussed on an area surrounded by white sheets and a number of Surgeons standing around. I could see an actual Operation being performed - before I was about to be knocked out and carted in there myself! It was actually happening as I looked over! That would be intimidating to a tiny child in itself, exposed to the truth of the matter, when the Porter helpfully pointed out, slightly more cheerily than I liked, “He’s having what you’re going to have.”
Thing was, at that time I hadn’t a clear idea of what it was I was actually having done. I just remember crumbling paint on the walls, the coldness of the room, the complete sense of desperation and loss of control. I began to cry. I called out for my Mommy. I want my Mommy. And my old friend the Porter amusingly added, “Your Mommy isn’t here.”
Luckily I don’t remember anything else after that. I probably passed out or something. But, you know, of what it has irreparably done to me, I have no clear indication, but it’s a vision I will never forget.
I suppose it fed into that part of myself I considered my natural survival instinct.
Not only that, but I started a long lived trust of daydreaming. Imagination - without it, I’m nothing.
Ever been in a four bed Ward with a man dying of liver failure? The reminder to you, almost constantly, of your own mortality and how ultimately pointless everything is? I have. Ever been woken up by him, always behind blinds, of him swearing incoherently, while being lowered onto a commode, low enough for you to see everything, and I mean everything? It certainly arrests you, gives you a constant fear of what there could be out there to tackle you and pull you irrevocably toward the skeletal psychopath with his shiny knife - snip! There goes your soul! Or did you lose that already, on this road of despair to a man losing his mind, as it turned to jelly?
Oh, it doesn't matter! None of it matters! We’re all going to Hell in a hand basket anyway! Weren’t you listening while they indoctrinated you into their Church, to worship their Messiah, because He is the only way into Paradise? Catch them when their young! Get them early, and they’ll believe any old crap!
I call out for the Nurse, because I need her. Yet the old man - who the Hell does he think he is?! He tells me to shut up and do it myself, even as he rattles away, day and night -
It’s simple. People can be arseholes the world over.
#
Of course they all came to see me. Corakayla sat on my bed for hours, they said. Of course Viv and Comfy messed about with the equipment and it was left to Freddie to control them, but it did my heart good. All together, as one. We are Legion. Well, we’re certainly gestalt.
Slowly the others left, even Corakayla, who I had insisted took a nap in a vacant bed, until it was just me and Ippy. Ippy and me.
“I’m sorry.” he began, trying to incorporate his self into the very structure of the building, hiding from any potential wrath coming to him. Why he should have worried, especially about me, I have no idea?
“Why you sorry?” I asked, my voice still a little rattled after the torment my throat had endured over the first few hours of my admittance.
“It was me.” he managed, in some tone barely part of this world.
“What was you?” of course I knew. I had always known.
“I tried to poison you.” he squeaked.
“Why?” Confession was good for the soul.
“Because she’s my Mom.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, Tony might be bad, but he’s good for Mom. You're not.”
“Ippy, i think you've got it confused.”
“What?”
I smiled, despite myself, “I wasn't trying to - get off - with your Mom. I promise. I like her, but as a Mom. As my Mom. As a surrogate Mom. Whatever it is she's doing, i promise it’s not of my doing.”
Realisation of what he had almost done seemed to flood into Ippy all at once, all in a fraction of a second, summed up with, “But -“
“I’m sorry too, Ippy. Your Mom is still a woman. She has desires. But like you say, she has Tony. I think I’m just a distraction to her.”
“I almost killed you.” He seemed not to have heard me, slipping to the floor in shock, thinking of the things that could have been.
I felt philosophical about it, naturally, “Don’t worry, kid. After all, what're friends for, eh?” I said.
He looked to me, confused, “I’m not sure I understand -“ he began.
I pulled the sheets back on my Hospital bed and gingerly dropped to the cold linoleum floor, tiptoeing over to where Ippy still perched upon the ground. I put a comforting, almost Fatherly hand on his shoulder, “It’s fine, Ippy, mate. It’s done.” I said. And it was.
Oh, there are at least a hundred reasons why I wouldn't go with Ippy’s Mom, but I can’t tell him that. She’ll get bored soon anyway. Familiarity breeds contempt, or so they say.
#
Of course I couldn't miss the gig that night. Frankly all I was going to do was stand there, sway a bit. I would leave the heavy stuff until I was better. Ippy kept his distance, mostly out of embarrassment, I think. I don't know why he should bother. I’d forgotten it. And besides, he learned a lot from it, from the kind of person he was becoming, and that he needed to fix that as soon as he could. I sensed a maturity in him. He was certainly calmer, but maintained that little flash of the kid he had been. Damn it, if we all don’t need to keep a little of the spirit of childhood alive in our lives? I hold a special place for that child I was. Oh, the memories?
After the gig, of course there we were again, on the Woodrowe coach. I took it easy, and so did Ippy. I think both of us are off the drink for a while. Experience is a good tutor.
Callum sidled over to me, nestled in a cubby with Corakayla as I often did, “Hey kid! I heard you were in Hospital?”
I must have looked smoky, dark around the eyes, “It was - nothing really. A misunderstanding.”
Callum shot me a look of confusion, naturally, but dropped it. In fact he changed tack entirely, “Hey, we’ve been thinking, what with you guys hooking up and all,” Callum gestured to Comfy with Susie and Loffie with Eddy, pausing over Freddie - “Want to ride the coach with us? Besides, looks like you could do with a lift. Dude, you look so drawn?”
I smiled. I think some of the older me dropped in for a visit, as my language seemed so formal, “It’s fine, and thank you for the offer. I think I’m speaking for everyone when -“
“Right on, man! So cool of you to do this!” cut in Comfy, exuberantly.
“Yeah. Very cool.” I agreed, smiling warmly as Callum grabbed my shoulder and jostled me joyfully. Of course, knowing what I know - well, it was an excuse for him and Freddie to - you know. It was different times back then. I mean back now. Oh, whatever tense it’s supposed to be.
“Besides, it’s Susie’s Birthday tomorrow, and you wouldn’t want to miss that.” added Callum enthusiastically.
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