Carry On Operating

Wednesday: After a somewhat sleepless night, I managed to find myself feeding pet lambs at 6am. The fresh air did me good. I expected to be shattered, but I was too deep in thought to consider sleep. The morning seemed to drag. Then at 1pm we got into the car and drove to the hospital. It was the journey I'd been dreading for the past two months. The imminent staring out of the window, rushing through the patchwork quilt of Northumbrian countryside, knowing our destination would bring melancholy feelings. We just about managed to park the car; visiting hours had started when we arrived which meant rush hour within hospital grounds. We walked silently to the main entrance, finding our way to the ward. Endless corridors, solemn faces, a walk that I thought may never end. The ward was busy with people, chattering, discussing, questioning. We were taken to an end bed next to a window, looking out onto a splendid view of fields. The Farmer nervously unpacked his bag, asking if I'd remembered the sweets.

I sat down on the bed and a nurse came pounding towards us. "What is it, pet?" she asked, taking the emergency buzzer off the bed after I flung myself to my feet, realising I'd sat on the damn thing.

It broke the ice. The Farmer was at ease as he sat down and looked at the pile of magazines I'd bought for him. Cars, footballers, birds of the feathered variety. Countryside scenes made him feel more at home. We sat and whispered to each other for half an hour, not used to being in the company of strangers and unwilling to share our conversation. "You get off," he said, always the thoughtful one. I didn't want to leave him but I did want to go. I hate hospitals. Always have and always will. Though I realise how fortunate we are to have them; if only we didn't need them.

I lent over and kissed him gently before pulling away and whispering "I love you." He said the same as he noticed a friendly nurse coming towards us. "Aye, aye," the nurse said, "you giving out kisses?"

"Aye," he said. "But I'll be charging for the next ones."

He'd parked the car close to the window by his bed. Strange how that was the only space we could find after trawling through several car parking areas. He stood at the window and waved to me as I got into the car. I looked up at him and tears came. I was glad he wouldn't have seen them. Through blurred eyes I started the engine, turning to him as he once more waved to me. One of the toughest things I've ever done in recent years; waving to my husband then returning home knowing he wouldn't be there.

Happy Anniversary to my darling husband

3rd May 2003