A life with and without choice.

Daydreaming Part 10

Jo recovered slowly while continuing to be monitored and tested. They felt like   a pin cushion and in their own style would joke about it externally while internally hating and fearing it each and every time.

Their dreams continued, they became more vivid, bright and colourful in terms of the experiences they felt they were living. The biggest change for Jo was that the dreams no longer remained in their sleep. They would drift away and daydream of another life where things were so different. Jo knew where this came from, but it didn't make sense to them. No one else spoke of this other internal voice or desire to live. Jo just accepted it, but at the same time, even when so young they hid it. Even mum doesn't get told about the theme of the dreaming. 

Mum notices the wistful smile and far away eyes that Jo has so often now. She imagines it is because of the hospital and treatments. She knows how much Jo hates the needles that seem to appear at a daily rate. She imagines that Jo is in a happy place thinking of life beyond the hospital. So she doesn't question it and let's Jo enjoy their daydreams while she enjoys their smile. 

Jo grows in strength. The infection has cleared and Jo is starting to fidget and not sleep all day. Drawing, colouring, stories and games don't keep them occupied. They want to join a couple of others in the play room. The nurse checks with the doctor and says tomorrow. Jo is happy. Mum relieved and the doctor amazed considering what this little body had been put through.

The next day Jo wakes and tries to get up. The side rails are still in place so while crawling to the end of the bed the nurse asks where they are going. Jo thinks 'how do they always arrive just when something is about to happen?'

'It's tomorrow.' Jo states mater of factly and returns with determination to crawling down the bed.

'Hmm. I think it is best if you have some breakfast first and wait until your mum is back after she has freshened up.' the nurse replies with a stern look on her face. She knows Jo must be feeling a lot better. They have hardly moved since 'that day' and now there is a good sign of energy and life. She scoops Jo up and kindly settles them back at the head of the bed.

'Now I will get you some breakfast and nice cold milk. You eat and drink that and you will have the energy to go to the play room.' This isn't a question or request. It is a statement of fact. Jo is used to this and agrees as they know how things work. Be good, smile, nod and do as they ask and things are good. Besides they don't dare to go against these nurses, they know what they want and there is a steely edge that demands that there is only their way.

Jo eats slowly, as always. They are tiny compared to their peers and so fragile. Although the cold milk vanishes very quickly. This is their favourite and as they replace the glass on the bed tray with a dramatic smack of their lips and an exaggerated ahhhh. Mum walks in.

'How can you drink milk like that, yuck.' It is one of their jokes. Mum hates milk, but knows that Jo loves it. They have been living on a diet of milk, mashed potato with a little gravy and gallons of cold milk and more chocolate buttons than most could imagine. Oh and carrots, they also loved carrots. The idea of seeing in the dark seems like magic to them. When the doctor heard about the diet they replied. 'No problem with that, all healthy, and it will keep them going.' Mum tried to 'sneak' other foods in. Either on the plate or hidden in the mash with no success. Once she even made them have a little slice of meat first before being given the rest of their dinner. Then at the end of the meal Jo turned to mum and asked.

'Can I get rid of this now?' They asked.

'Get rid of what?' Mum questioned.

Jo opened their mouth wide and there from their cheek they produced a ball of meat. Clearly chewed and kept in their mouth for the whole meal with no intention of swallowing it. Mum shook her head with a smile, held out her hand as only a mum would do and told Jo to spit it out. Jo looked bashful. They had it in their mouth and ate the rest of their meal then rejected it. Mum was amazed, how could they do that, then again she thought of course they did that. What was I thinking. Just offer them food and one day they will want to try it. The doctor said it was fine.

Mum smiled at the memory. Her Jo was coming back. She was so relieved. She had even managed to have a shower this morning and she was relieved that happy memories were returning and replacing worries about the next test.

Earlier that morning Jo was fidgeting. Mum knew what was coming. She had been woken this morning with a little voice calling, 'mum, mum, can I go now?' She had thought they needed the loo, but when they jumped up quickly they realised it wasn't that.

'What do you want to do darling?' She asked.

'Play room, they said I could.' Jo stated.

'Oh. Of course.' Mum smiled and thought. Well being woken up early as if it is Christmas morning and being asked about playing was such a change from recent weeks that her heart melted and she just had to have a hug and kiss.

'Good morning darling.' And a wash of kisses and even a tiny tickle on the tummy. She knew how ticklish Jo was and never went more than a single wiggle of her finger on Jo's soft tummy as that was enough to make them curl up in laughter.

'Hehe, nooo.' Jo fell back on the bed and hid under the sheets. 'Stop it, not fair.' They cried.

'You rest and I'll go and get washed and dressed for the day then we can go, alright? The nurse will bring you breakfast and you enjoy that before I get back, then you can go and play.'

Jo peaked over the sheets and nodded. Making sure they were safe from any more tickle attacks. They had then slipped back asleep with the thoughts of playing filling their head. So when mum returned and they had eaten and drank and they felt they deserved to go and play.