Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 721.

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Wuthering Dormice
(aka Bike)
Part 721
by Angharad
  
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It was a long night. I slept fitfully draped over Mima’s bed, feeling almost as if I was involved in a psychic tug of war with something which wanted my child’s soul almost as much as I did.

A long time ago I read some books by Andrew Collins, in which he described questing, which was a mix of New Age occultism and teenage excitement as they pursued various treasures. While most of the detail has long gone with the books, I did remember him doing something he called a triangle or cone of light. In this he drew down a cone of white light which he swirled around himself and the area he was concerned with, and then whooshed it back up into the sky, effectively sterilising the area of any psychic influences for a while.

I had no idea if this would work, it was all nineteen sixties nonsense. However, I decided it was worth a try, only I did my own version of it. I simply imagined the whole of Mima’s room filling with an intense white light. The temperature dropped and I pulled my jacket around me, and held on tightly to my child. Then I fell asleep.

Somewhere about six in the morning, a nurse came in to check for Mima’s vitals. She appeared to be sleeping normally and her pulse and blood pressure were good. They were going to do a brain scan later to ascertain if the anoxic state had caused any brain trauma. I was still worried. The nurse told me she thought Mima was doing very well considering her injuries. She left after cheering me a little and then brought me a cup of tea and a biscuit. I thanked her profusely.

I was sitting holding Mima’s hand when Sam Rose arrived at about seven. “You have an early start,” I commented.

“You have one of my favourite patients here, Lady C. I wanted to see how she was.”

“I’m told, doing okay.”

“Let’s see?” he checked the charts. “Um, so far so good.” He took out a torch and lifting an eyelid he shone the beam into her eye. She grumbled and pushed his hand away, remaining asleep. “Ooh, that’s encouraging,” he said enthusiastically, “I think we can call that a positive response.” He did the same with the other eye and she turned over away from the light.

“Is she sleeping or comatose?” I asked.

“If she is comatose, it’s a very light one. It all looks very encouraging. Talk to her see if she’ll wake for you.”

I took her hand and held it, stroking her face with my other hand. “Wakey, wakey, sleepy head. Mima, it’s Mummy, would you like some breakfast?”

“No, me’s tired,” she whispered and turned over to sleep again.

“Amazing. I think she’s going to get over this, although we’re not out of the woods yet and I’d still like to scan her. You’ll need to be there, because of the noise it makes.”

“I’d like to be there anyway.”

“Of course. Look you can’t do anything else, so why not pop up to the cafeteria and I’ll buy you some breakfast?”

“Sam, that’s the best offer I’ve had all day.”

“Better make the most of it, remember, we Jews are supposed to be a trifle parsimonious.”

“No more so than any other group of people I’ve met.”

“Damn, so you’re going to take me up on it – hmm, if I get you a white coat, I wonder if we’ll get staff discount?”

“You silly bugger,” I said to him and we both laughed. On the way out of the ward, the nurse in charge handed me a small overnight bag. I checked inside and it had a change of clothing, Simon had dropped it in for me. The note attached said he hadn’t liked to disturb me as I was sleeping. I blushed.

“Look, you go and change in the loos down the corridor and I’ll order you a breakfast for ten minutes.” He pointed down the corridor, “Toilets thataway.”

After a quick wash and change of clothes, I felt much better. My hair could do with a wash but otherwise I felt clean. I left the bag with my dirty laundry in it at the nurses station, then walked briskly up to the cafeteria where a plate of bacon and egg awaited me. With some toast it tasted so good. Sam was just finishing his. “I thought you weren’t supposed to eat bacon?” I said accusingly.

“I think that only refers to the orthodox, we liberal types eat anything that smells so enticing.”

“Isn’t it unclean?”

“Yeah but, if it’s cooked properly, it’s clean enough for me.”

I was tempted to tease him some more, then remembered he’d generously paid for mine, so I kept shtum. It was delicious, with tomato and mushrooms I ate as if I hadn’t for days. I suppose on reflection I hadn’t eaten for about sixteen hours, and had barfed my lunch at the swimming pool. I tried not to think about that and kept eating. I washed it down with some coffee, deciding the caffeine might keep me awake.

Some chap came up and called Sam, who excused himself as I buttered my fourth piece of toast. I was drinking my coffee when he came back with the other man, who I could see was another doctor. They both sat down beside me. I felt some tension in the air. “Is Mima alright?”

“Yes, she’s fine,” said Sam, “if she wasn’t they’d have bleeped me.” He hesitated.

“What’s the matter, Sam? What are you after?”

“It’s not Sam, it’s me who is asking a favour,” said the other man, who looked about thirty-fivish.”

“This is Grant Chesters, our resident neurosurgeon, gets on most people’s nerves. This is Lady Catherine Cameron, occasional miracle worker.”

“Lady Catherine, I want to ask you a very big favour.”

“What?” I asked suspiciously, knowing what was likely to be happening.

“Downstairs in ICU, I have a person who was badly beaten up last night. They are on a life support machine. I don’t have much hope of them recovering, and suspect persistent vegetative state, although we’d wait a few days before diagnosing that.”

“What?”

“Brain dead,” supplied Sam.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I don’t know what you want, but I don’t think I’d like to be a brain donor.”

He looked at me, then his face broke into a wide grin and he laughed out loud. Sam was also chortling. “I don’t think I want you to do that,” said Mr Chesters.

“Why were they beaten up?”

“They were coming home and passed a group of drunken teenagers.”

“And that was why?”

“Okay, I didn’t want to influence you against them. I’d like you to see if you can do your magic on this poor individual.”

“But?” I queried.

“She, yes, she, is a gender bender. You know, actually male but living as female, you know what I mean.”

Before I could say anything, Sam intervened, “Cathy has a GID foster child, so she knows about it.”

“I’m sorry, Cathy, some people find it difficult.”

“Yes, I’m sure, but I’m not one of them.”

“The other thing is that this person looks a total mess, where they kicked and punched her into oblivion. It’s not very pretty.”

“You should see me first thing in the morning,” I joked and they both laughed. “What do you want me to do?”

“Whenever you’re ready?” Grant Chesters said and he led me down to ICU. I put on gown, hat and overshoes, then followed him into the cubicle. Mess was an understatement. I saw the name Cheryl above the bed, but the monstrosity lying in the bed was enough to make anyone sick. The head was swollen and black and blue with grazed and lacerated areas around the mouth and eyes. There were dressings on the worst affected areas but it was truly dreadful to behold.

“How can someone do this to another human being?” I asked.

“I don’t know, but I do know that drink was probably involved.”

“Yes, but I had a couple of glasses of wine the other night, I didn’t want to go and beat someone up.”

“Cathy, if I might call you that? You’re a normal person with reasonable levels of control and presumably some attachment to the society in which you live, your family and so on. The guys who did this, don’t. They have no self-control, so are usually piss heads, and they don’t care about the life of this person. They see someone who is vulnerable and upon whom they can project their inadequacies and it becomes violent very quickly.”

“Is her name, Cheryl?” I asked.

“No, that’s her nurse, her name is Brittany.”

“As in Spears?”

“Yes, not very original but….”

“Yeah okay, what do you want me to do?”

“The grapevine told me that you saved a kid here the other week with a brain tumour, then yesterday we had stories of a dead child being resuscitated after that shouldn’t have been possible.”

“My foster daughter.”

“Yes, I know. Can you help with this poor unfortunate?”

“I’ll try.”

“Thank you. What do you need from us?”

“Some peace and quiet and a cuppa in an hour or so.”

“You got it, anything else?”

“Yes no sugar in the tea, and if they take Mima down for a scan, I’ll need to be there.”

“Of course, I take it you have milk?”

“In the tea, please.”

I settled down and introduced myself. “Hi, Brittany, I’m Cathy and I’ve come to help you. I know you can hear me so I want you to listen to my voice and use it to help you come back from the void in which you find yourself. Follow my voice and as you do you’ll see a light, follow it, float towards it and that’s where I’ll be, waiting for you. Oh and you’ll probably have a bit of a headache, but I’ll help you with that too.”

I touched her on the forehead and held her hand. I kept talking, my eyes shut as I visualised the light coming down and entering her body and especially her head and face. I tried to imagine her face before the gang tried to rearrange it and projected that on her. I don’t know how long I was there but a female voice said, “Oh my God, get the surgeon quickly, and the sound of a cup and saucer being put down rapidly.

I opened my eyes and got used to the lights, footsteps came rushing in and I became aware of a machine bleeping that hadn’t been doing so before. “Jesus, Joseph and Mary,” said Grant Chesters as he ran into the room dressed in his greens–his theatre garb. “I don’t believe it.”

I looked to see what they didn’t believe and it shook me too. Brittany’s head was normal sized and much of the bruising had eased. Chesters, shone a light into both of her eyes, “Jesus, we’ve got a reflex, she’s alive.”

“We’ve got other vitals, Mr Chesters,” said the nurse.

“I’ve never seen anything like it, it’s–a–miracle, there is no other word to describe it.”

I felt knackered and drank the tea, whether or not it was for me. “Please don’t say anything about this to anyone,” I pleaded.

“I don’t believe it, you can do more in an hour than I could in ten in the theatre.”

“This is the last one I do. I can’t cope with what it does to me, and what the press are likely to do if they find out. I have three children. I want to protect them.”

“Of course, I’m not sure what we put in the notes but, I’ll not breathe a word of your identity. Neither will the others, will you?” he demanded of the nurses. They both said, no.

“I have to go and see Mima.” I got up to leave, “I still can’t understand why anyone should want to hurt anyone else for fun.”

“Nor me,” said the nurse, “but one of the bastards who did it, ran off when the police arrived and was hit by a bus. He’s in a similar state in the next room. I don’t suppose you’d like to share a miracle with him? Personally, I’d switch off his machine now, given the chance.”

I paused at the doorway.

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Comments

I think Cathy will try

I think Cathy will try because that is the person she is. Whether she will be able to bring that person back or not is another question. Perhaps the "POWER" allowing her to have her special abilities won't let that happen. It will be a rather interesting chapter to read I must admit. Janice Lynn

Can her powers

Can her power MAKE someone intersexed?

Huggles
Chelle_MM

A transfer?

Maybe she can pass all the hurting from the victim to the lout that helped do it. Karma repays, an' all that.

m

Damaged people are dangerous
They know they can survive

Now that is some

dilemma, Put in that situation when you seem to have the power of life and death, What would you do?

I know that myself faced with that choice i would have no hesitation in trying to help, Yes it would be easy to walk away given what this man has done, But to me life is something you should cherish, And if Cathy can help this man, Then i suspect being the woman she is she won't be able to turn her back on him!!!

Kirri

>> A long time ago I read some books by Andrew Collins

One of the things that are so hard to get right in stories is the next room, the lawn outside the window, the awareness that there is a world beyond what the protagonist is seeing right now, and it's one of the things I quite like about Cathy, that she had a life before the story, has a life outside the story, and knows something of the world, as ordinary people do, so her memories come into play, and her total context, when she finds herself in new situations. I've read one of his books too -- just the one, as I wasn't all that keen, but still.

Cheers,

Liobhan

http://www.andrewcollins.com/

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Andrew_Collins_(author)

-

Cheers,

Liobhan

Supernatural Transposition

Where's all this supernatural healing leading this story?

Methinks Angharad misses writing SNAFU and has transposed some of that supernatural magic into this story. At least it's a nice type of magic instead of the scorched-earth variety of dealing with ancient Egyptian dieties.

___________________
If a picture is worth 1000 words, this is at least part of my story.

Maybe Cathy Can Make Brit

Into the girl she wants to be, and pehaps by extension, herself. As for the lout, some permanent hurts until he unlearns hatred. Could he know Brit?

    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine
    Stanman
May Your Light Forever Shine

Stands the Church clock at ten to three?

And is there honey still for tea?

Grant Chesters! Really Angharad, you're as bad as your friend Gabi. For those who might not recognise the name, Grantchester is a village near Cambridge (England, not Mas.) and it is featured in Rupert Brooke's poem, The Old Vicarage, Grantchester, which finishes,

Stands the Church clock at ten to three?
And is there honey still for tea?

A very dramatic episode, Ang, dear.

Hugs,
Hilary.

Don't blame me, Hilary…

…it wasn't my idea, honest.

For any reader who does not know this nostalgic poem, you can find it at:

http://thereaderonline.co.uk/2009/04/featured-poem-the-old-v...

I hope you enjoy it if it is new to you.

Gabi.

“It is hard for a woman to define her feelings in language which is chiefly made by men to express theirs.” Thomas Hardy—Far from the Madding Crowd.

Gabi.


“It is hard for a woman to define her feelings in language which is chiefly made by men to express theirs.” Thomas Hardy—Far from the Madding Crowd.

I just can't see

Cathy not trying to help. She is too good for her own good, sometimes. I just wonder if her anger will let her help. I expect the answer will be yes, both to trying and to succeeding.

I've been hooked on this story since I first started reading it and I am still hanging on tenterhooks waiting for the next episode.

Angharad, you have given me my first ever soap opera and for that you have my gratitude. To hell with the crap they put on TV, this is so much better!

Battery.jpg

Cathy

I think Cathy may try to help just so she can slap the snot out of him and see him in jail for what he did, and the rest of the bad guys involved also. Not sure if it will do any good though. It may be blocked by other supernatural, or she may be too overworked that she is not able to do it anymore which would also solve the problem of always being called.

Can't Save the World Cathy

... no matter how worthy the cause. I am humbly suggesting that Cathy somehow get out of this miracle business ... With TWO exceptions ... that she get the ultimate miracle of being able to become the fertile woman she wants to be and that she is able to help with her own flesh and blood.

Anything else. Hide.

Kim

I want the happy ending, the one where Cathy in a hooded robe ..

on the Death Star II says " And now young Skywalker, you die." Then these bolts of life draining energy shoot from her hands.

Only this time the Emperor, um Emperess wins.

Ain't I a stinker?

John in Wauwatosa

P.S. Um, this isn't anything like that British horror film from arounf 1980 where a photographer accidently discovers this blue light that can trap the angel of death, the Asphix and he condems himself and an lab animal to eternal life but not eternal youth? IE has she saved Mima but some force in the universe still wants the child to die?

John in Wauwatosa

She's already done so.

Puddintane's picture

Who saves a single life, saves the entire world.
--- Sanhedrin 4:9

You shall not stand aside from your brother’s blood.
--- Vayikra (Leviticus) 19:16

Cathy has an obligation to help if she can, as we all do. The life of every human being is infinitely precious, at least to that individual, and probably to others as well, and to stand aside whilst another is in danger makes us less than human, less even than beasts.

As John Lennon once said, "We all doing what we can."

Cheers,

Puddin'

-

Cheers,

Puddin'

A tender heart is an asset to an editor: it helps us be ruthless in a tactful way.
--- The Chicago Manual of Style

Respectfully disagree

... There are billions of folks out there, as a matter of fact there are a billion folks in the world who are considered poor and/or living in poverty. How much of a sacrifice for all the folks out there are willing to deplete their own financial and material happiness to the point of thin rations to support all those people ?

They are needy, no ? But how many of us are willing to say sell their houses, and say move into an apartment for after all, you can use the money for the benefit of so many others. So what happens to all those people you save ? They produce more people; more burden on the world. Too much of a good thing does not necessarily mean it is better. One drink of water will quench your thirst but try to drink a pool of it and you will drown.

And that is what Cathy is facing. She can potentially drown.

It is NOT worth it.

I am a very practical person. I opted to not have children since I am trans and it would not be fair to them ? Did I give up a potential life ?

There has to be a boundary.

Kim

I hope Cathy doesn't try to

I hope Cathy doesn't try to heal him, too! Not only is he probably a waste of space (Harsh, but true), but it could kill her if she tries to do too much. She's right that she needs to concentrate on her family. If she tries to help everyone that comes along she'll find herself unable to take care of her own family, if not dead.

Another great chapter Angharad! :)

Saless
 


"But it is also tradition that times *must* and always do change, my friend." - Eddie Murphy, Coming To America


"But it is also tradition that times *must* and always do change, my friend." - Eddie Murphy, Coming To America

I suspect that Cathy can't pass by someone in need.

We've seen that many times from babies in burning cars to women in rivers. This will certainly be a test. Would be poetic justice if cathy could induce gender identity issues or even a calmer mind. Of course I'm still waiting for Trish to wake up sometime from cuddling cathy overnight and find that she's physically turning into a girl.

Message to fellow fans

Hey folks, stop trying to guess what Angharad will have Cathy do next. She probably knows what is coming, or possibly she does not, judging from the way the tale has gone so far, but if you all want to be inventive, write your own story! There is just a slight chance you will influence Angharad's imagination, and that would spoil it. This is HER story not yours.

Briar

Briar

Actually I love the speculation

Angharad's picture

Most of the time I have no idea where it's going, I just follow Cathy's mad career and document it for you. Whether it influences the story, I have no idea, except that I suspect that John and his Death Star are unlikely candidates for inclusion, even in Wwwwwherever.

Angharad

Angharad

But it's such a sweet scene from a certain point of view

To grossly parody Obi wan Kenobi.

My flight into filmdom was in response to her being offered the chance to heal the attempted murderer. Though it would seem to go against her nature, Cathy IS a volatile woman emotionally. I worry with her blue light touch, what if she were to get angry or defend her family? She's already shot people with guns and a bow. What's to say she couldn't accidently kill with a touch? I pity the soldier, if he was one, who accidently drowned Mima should Mima be permanently injured or die. Cathy could not stop her grief or anger.

Juiie_O mentioned it in her first Iona story, a magical healer can burn themselves out, even maybe die if they don't limit their efforts. There are so few healers and so many in need. Cathy must make hard choices. Perhaps her inner voice can guide her? They idea of her saving the jerk but inadvertently turning him TG or even female has a cosmic sense of justice.

The Disney ending would be for him to learn his errors and reform in prison, even become an advocate for the LGBT. An ironic ending would be Mima is healed and well. Trish's horrid past is overcome and Livie become a real girl ... the only one who does not benefit from her healing touch is Cathy herself. Though thru her loving family she would benefit indirectly but for her never to be a complete woman would hurt. She knows it is not a logical/rational/scientific outcome but deep in her heart she wishes she was a genetic girl and complete.

But as even you don't know, Ang, we'll have to leave it up to Bonzi.

John in Wauwatosa

John in Wauwatosa

John, you seem slightly confused…

… I quote:

An ironic ending would be Mima is healed and well. Trish's horrid past is overcome and Livie become a real girl ... the only one who does not benefit from her healing touch is Cathy herself.

Livvie is the one with the horrid past and is a genetic girl; Trish also had a horrid past (in the home) and is GID.

Have you been at the catnip again, John?

Hugs

Gabi.

“It is hard for a woman to define her feelings in language which is chiefly made by men to express theirs.” Thomas Hardy—Far from the Madding Crowd.

Gabi.


“It is hard for a woman to define her feelings in language which is chiefly made by men to express theirs.” Thomas Hardy—Far from the Madding Crowd.

Can't wait

I agree i can't wait to see what she does next ??????

jo ann

Jo Ann D

Nice Touch, Ang!!

Another last one? And this one totally unsympathetic and undeserving! And yet that's what's so wonderful about Christianity (well, **MY** Christianity, anyway!) -- we believe that God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son to save us all, deserving and undeserving alike!

Sorry about the proselytizing but it just seemed so appropriate. Believe what you will -- that's what I do, eh?

Yours from the Great White North,

Jenny Grier (Mrs.)

x

Yours from the Great White North,

Jenny Grier (Mrs.)

Off with his

Switch! Cathy's too good for him!