I woke up in the hospital. I was in a bed in the darkness, fat, circular sticky monitoring pads dotting my chest, under the hospital gown. The wires that came from them snaked up to a machine above me that was beeping quietly. A line ran across the screen that I gathered was measuring my heart rate. It seemed high. The number read 114.
The lights in the room were off, the soft glow of the lights in the hallway were providing just enough light into the room that I could see there was no one in the bed next to me. The curtain between the beds was partially closed. I could hear people out in the hallway, talking quietly. There was coughing in the distance, and the low hum of life just out of reach. I felt dizzy, and as though my limbs were weighted down. I wanted to get someone's attention and I could see a nurse call button on a remote, dangling on what looked like a thick telephone cord, but I couldn't reach it. I tried to stay awake, but I could feel the murkiness of sleep reaching for me again, and though it felt like I had only closed my eyes for a moment, suddenly it was broad daylight.
Next to me, on a rolling tray table, there was food. The machine reading my heart rate now said only 80. I felt extraordinarily calm, and clear, though I also felt as if my thoughts existed slightly outside of myself. Like someone was standing next to me, and whispering them into my ear.
I had no idea what happened to me. I lay there quietly for a while, eyes open but unmoving, thinking back to what I could remember. I knew I had been in the car, at the police station. I remembered them taking Samantha away, I remembered trying to see her and being told I could not. It took several minutes for the memory of sitting in the car to resurface, bubbling up like air. I could feel a tiny ball of panic, like an egg, drifting upwards from my guts to my chest, but whatever medications they were pumping in through the cannula in my left hand were keeping my body calm, and the egg remained uncracked. I felt so relieved, lying in the bed, listening to the hustle and bustle happening outside of the room. There was a large window to my right, and I stared at the tree outside. I could see the leaves and branches moving, but I couldn't hear a thing, so I watched this silent tree drifting back and forth, with no concept of how much time was passing. I didn't want to move. I had felt like a tightly coiled spring for months and now I felt like my exhausted body was just part of this bed, and that it would be ok if I just stayed there forever.
I was interrupted by the sound of a cheerful woman, as round as she was tall, appearing in the doorway with a tall, rolling metal cabinet of food trays. They were stacked on top of each other, over and over, the same meal, in the same layout. I turned my head to watch as the smiling woman slid a tray out of the giant stack, and placed it on my rolling tray table. She turned it around so it was over me, and only then did I realise she was talking.
"I'll be back in a little while for the tray, just eat something if you can!"
She had a chirping voice. I tried to smile but I could tell it was wobbly, and the jovial lady disappeared out the door, rolling her enormous stack of food. I didn't move. I didn't think I could.
A little while later a doctor came in to see me.
"So, it seems like you have an arrhythmia, possibly you always have and it just hasn't caused problems before. Are you under any particular stress?"
My voice was a whisper but it came out clearly enough.
"My husband died."
The brusque and obviously busy doctor's face softened slightly. He smiled a little bit.
"My guess is you have an arrhythmia, and you had a panic attack due to stress. We've got the ventricular tachycardia under control right now, the sedatives will start to wear off more in the next few hours. I need to stress that you have to take it easy for a while. I have written you some scripts for a couple of medications you can take when you feel overwhelmed, but I really recommend that you make an appointment with your GP as soon as possible to talk this through make a long term plan. A nurse will be along after lunch to discharge you. You're going to be fine."
He patted the blanket over my leg, and turned and hurried off.
I waited. Eventually the nurse did come to discharge me, and helped me to get my wobbly legs into my jeans. I caught a taxi back to the police station, where my car remained. The keys were in my handbag, probably placed there by some very considerate ambulance officer. I wasn't supposed to drive myself, but I did it anyway. I went to my parents house. When I arrived, it was early afternoon, and my boys were in the backyard, enjoying the good climbing trees. My mother was out. It was so peaceful and quiet, I almost didn't look for my father to tell him I was there. I just wanted to go upstairs to my childhood room where the bunk beds were still in place, and lie down. But I went to find my father anyway.
He was in the kitchen.
"Elaine! Where have you been hiding?"
"Nowhere, Dad, I've just been trying to straighten some things out."
"What things?"
He folded his newspaper closed and set it down on the table. I could hear the boys shouting outside.
"The police have misunderstood something. They've arrested Samantha."
He didn't say anything, but he went very still. He's always been very good at controlling his face, but his lower lip was trembling very slightly.
"What for?"
"I don't actually know. They didn't tell me, and they wouldn't let me see her when I tried. They told me to wait until tomorrow, which is today now, so I will go in soon and see what I can find out."
"This happened yesterday?"
I nodded.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I would have, but apparently I have some kind of heart arrhythmia, and it caused some problem yesterday. They kept me at the hospital last night, but they said it's fine and I just need to see my GP to talk about it."
"A heart arrhythmia?"
"Yes."
He nodded slowly.
"That does run in the family."
"Makes sense that no one ever mentioned it then." I said dryly. He had no reaction.
"There's something wrong with your eye."
I frowned at him. He gestured at my right eye, and I stood up and went to the downstairs bathroom.
The white of my right eye was almost entirely marked by vivid, red blood. Burst blood vessels had flooded the area around my iris, stopping neatly before the coloured part of my eye. I sighed.
"It's harmless. Blood vessels."
I returned to the kitchen table, and sat with my father.
"So you're going to go to the station? Shall I come with you? Maybe I can help explain."
"No, it's ok. Stay with the boys. I'll go."
I intended to get up immediately, and leave the house. I intended to go to the station and bang on that infuriating desk until someone let me see my sister. But I was so tired. I sat at the table, my head dipping forward slightly. In the mid-afternoon silence, my father reached across the table and squeezed my hand. It was unexpected, and I felt an ugly urge to burst into tears. I didn't. But neither did I move. The clock ticked away in the silent air, and we sat together, unmoving.
