Yesterday evening, I’d just come out of the shower and was thinking about making dinner when the phone rang. It rang off again before I could reach it, so I thought it may have been a wrong number. Then it rang again.
‘Hello?’
[sound of sirens] ‘Hello, this is Sue, a paramedic. We have Adrian in the back of the ambulance, he’s been in a road accident and we’re taking him to hospital…’
Well, whatever else she said wasn’t really taken in. She said he was OK but ‘OK’ is a relative term – what is ‘OK’ to a paramedic may not be what I think is ‘OK’.
I’ve never left the house so quickly – keys, purse (to pay the exorbitant parking fees at the hospital), mobile phone. Good job I remembered the latter as about 2 miles down the road I realised that it was probably best if I could avoid driving any further – both of us in Casualty would not be a good idea. I was shaking so much I could barely change gear, never mind see the road through my tears.
Thankfully, our best friend lives on the route to the hospital so I pulled up, rang him and blubbed out the situation. Luckily he was in and not racing round the Gower, and also he answered his phone – one of the few times I’ve rung him and not had to leave a message.
With Steve driving I could concentrate on crying, worrying and cursing the learner drivers/slow trucks/red lights that seem determined to delay us. The thing I kept going over in my head was that I hadn’t kissed ade goodbye when he left me at the gym – for the first time ever (because I was in the middle of a sit-up session). What if he died without me having kissed him goodbye?
Steve was great – drove fast but safely and didn’t mind me bailing out and leaving him to pay the parking fee (he’d also brought money). I blubbed at several people, until eventually they took me into the cubicle to see him.
The sight that greeted me made me blub further. Ade was on a bed, t-shirt cut open down the middle, heart monitor pads on his chest, an IV needle in his hand and a heart monitor clip on his finger. Behind him stood a policeman, and a nurse was feeding ade 3 huge pills that looked like horse tablets.
I didn’t have to ask what had happened as I arrived just in time to hear ade give his statement to the policeman. I soon realised that he was actually fine, apart from the bruises, scrapes and chest pain.
Then a 3 hour wait for X-rays and to be discharged, while poor Steve sat in a smelly waiting room alone watching people prat around on horses.
What a trauma. Not something I ever wish to go through again. Although, in true British style, we can (almost) laugh about it now.
Please – take care driving.
