The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1001 by Angharad Copyright © 2010 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

I felt sick and there was something wet on my face and in my hair, I couldn’t open my eyes, they were sticking together and I could taste blood. My head, was pounding like someone was hitting it with a large hammer and it was resounding like an empty bucket. I no longer felt I was moving, but I was upside down. I vomited and passed out again.

In the distance were voices. Was I dead? My body felt numb although it was still upside down–so I couldn’t be dead. I had no idea what happened, or how it happened. I couldn’t even tell you what car I was in or what I was wearing. I think I could just about remember my name–I’m sure I could, but not just for the moment.

The voices got louder, and now there were sirens. I had no idea where I was–there was no pain, so perhaps I was dead or even dying. As long as there is no pain–I don’t care.

I felt some movement and things started to hurt. I couldn’t scream like I wanted to my throat felt blocked and my breathing wasn’t sufficient for me to scream. I think I might have moaned, what’s it matter I’m probably dead?

“Okay, darlin’, we’re goin’ to get you out as soon as we can.” There was more scrambling or movement and it hurt again, all over. “Stay with me, darlin’, don’t go to sleep–I need you to stay awake.”

Sleep, oh that would be wonderful, my head is pounding. I’m shaking and my head is pounding so loudly–hang on, I’m not shaking and what are those creaking noises? The noise is much louder, like some sort of engine and somebody is holding me. I thought I was in the womb waiting to be born, upside down, head engaged waiting to be born. Will they smack me on the bum?

I feel several pairs of hands? Yes hands–midwives? They are holding me and something is put around my neck.

“Watch it, we’ve got a bleed somewhere–go on, I’ve got her.”

The voice sounds nice, it’s male and caring–like a father. I wonder if it’s my daddy?

“Jee–zuz, get something on it, quickly. Stand by with a drip, or we’re gonna lose her, where’s that fucking helicopter?”

I wonder who they’re going to lose–not me, I know my way around these parts–um, I can’t think of the names–but take my word for it, I do. I groaned as the pain seemed to shoot right through me–up and down my spine like a thousand knives being inserted into me one after the other–no wonder there’s blood–all those knives.

I’m being laid down on a bed or something, now perhaps I can sleep. Oh now there’s lots of noise and the wind–I can feel the wind, and I’m moving–I’m falling, down a deep, deep hole. I feel dizzy and sleepy and–

The pain is unimaginable–so if I’m dead, I’m going to complain about it. I can’t move. Perhaps there is a hell and I’m in it. Oh well anything’s better than being surrounded by God-bother–oops, I’ll have to be careful, if I am in hell, there could be loads of them here to punish me, and for me to reciprocate to them.

“Cathy, can you hear me?”

Shit! they know my name and what is that beeping noise–not some form of lie detector is it?

“Cathy,” continued the female voice, “I’m Dr Talbot, Cynthia Talbot. You’re in Southampton General Hospital, you were in road traffic accident and you’ve been quite badly injured. You lost a great deal of blood, so you have drips attached to you and because you were struggling with the nurses, we’ve had to immobilise you. The good news is, we expect you to make a full recovery. I’m going to give you something to help you sleep and ease any pain you might be having. Sweet dreams.”

I’m sitting on a cloud and some idiot with wings keeps handing me a harp and I keep handing it back. “I can’t play this,” I said.

“Why not?”

“I’m not in the musician’s union,” I said.

“That doesn’t matter down here.”

“Down here?” I queried.

“Of course down here, the devil has all the best tunes, didn’t you know?”

“Are Beethoven and Mozart down here then?” I asked the harp distributor.

“See those two over there?” They pointed to a distant cloud.

“Yes,” I replied.

“Well that’s not them, it’s Elvis and Kurt Cobain.” There was demonic laughter and I started to slip through my cloud, I was falling again and then there was blackness.

“Cathy, open your eyes darling, you have a visitor.”

“I can’t,” I squeaked, “I can’t open my eyes–I’m blind,” I felt myself crying and felt very scared.

“Oops, the bandage has slipped, hold on, there, now try.”

I struggled, my eyelids felt as if they’d been sewn together and someone had left the pins in. I managed to prise one slightly open and the light was searing. I closed it again quickly.

Someone touched my hand, “It’s me, Julie, Mummy. We all wanted to come to see you–we’ve been so worried, you’ve been here a week an’ we didn’t know where you went–you just ran out of the hotel and disappeared. The police came and told us you’d been in an accident and we were so worried. Gramps brought me–we don’t know where Daddy is, no one has seen him–get well soon, Mummy, we all need you.” I felt her kiss me on the cheek and I presume she left.

“Mummy,” wailed a small voice, “I wuv you so much, get better soon.”

“Mummy, it’s Trish, we all miss you and need you to come home–here, hold my hand and I’ll see if I can sort you out–there, can you feel the energy. Rats, I can’t see any, that’s not bloody fair, we should be able to heal you like you help others. I’m going to complain to the nuns when I go back to school.”

“Hi, Mummy, it’s Livvie, can you get better soon, we all miss you and you make better food than Julie or Auntie Stella. Love you lots.” She kissed my hand and left.

“Och, whit a mess–yer car wis a write aff, they had tae cut ye oot, the van driver died. It wis his fault, sae thae polis said. Whaur’s Simon, we canna find him an’ Henry has nae idea neither. Och, I’ve only jes got here–och alricht–I hae tae go, Cathy. Get weel soon, we miss ye, ye muckle heid. Whit were ye doin takin’ aff like that? Och, all richt. I hae tae go. Get weel soon, hen.”

“Mummy, it’s Danny and Billy–you look awful, Mummy...”

“You shouldn’t have said that, dummy,” hissed one voice.

“Sorry,” was hissed back, “Actually, Mummy, you look a beautiful as ever, I was only jokin’, honest.”

“He was, Mummy, get well soon, we’ve brought you a card–I’ve put it with all the others on your locker thing. We gotta go, come home soon, Mummy, please.”

“Well, Mrs Cameron, you have oodles of fruit and flowers and cards–aren’t you going to open your eyes to look at them.”

I would have shaken my head to say no, but it hurt too much.

“Come on now, Cathy, if you don’t cooperate with us we’ll be forced to send in the physio-terrorists, and you know what sorts of things they make you do. So come on, open your eyes, or say something.”

“Oh my goodness, it’s the miracle woman–so how come you can’t do one for yourself then? Oh I suppose that’s how it works is it? I mean Jesus couldn’t save himself on the cross, so what chance have you got?

“I didn’t recognise you at first, the air bag bruised your face, but don’t worry, it’s clearing up nicely. Come on have a little drink for me–good girl.”