Bea.

Tears and Doctors

A nurse and I finally managed to lift her in bed, and a doctor swiftly made his way down the ward before the nurse, who had left our cubicle rather quickly, caught his arm and had a hushed conversation with him. I knew what they were talking about, but I couldn't hear what they were saying. I still held Bea's hand that entire time, as we worriedly stared at them, trying to lip read their hushed talk. Finally, the doctor approached the edge of the bed, grim expression on his face. "I'm just going to test your feet quickly, okay?" Bea nodded wearingly, and he brought out a pen from his pocket. "Can you feel this? And this? What about this?" He asked, poking around the underneath of her feet. As a tear run down her cheek, she shook her head. We both had suspicions of what this meant. He went away, and two nurses returned. They took her for a full body CT. The wait is agonising. The doctors already knew what had happened, although they tried to play it down. It wasn't hard to guess, but that fall had done her in. I don't understand how they didn't spot it though. They put her in a scanner when she was first admitted. Apparently, it's something they can't always see first time. She couldn't look me in the eyes when she came back. She couldn't look anyone in the eyes, just sat there and stared at the pearl-white sheets that covered her lifeless legs. Doctors came in to talk to her; a different one each time, spouting jumbled words of medications plans, treatment courses and equipment. Bea took no notice, just staring into nothing. Her brain was too clogged, too confused to understand any of his questions. I made mental notes of physio appointments and good disability shops, I knew she wouldn't. The stream of doctors slowed, with the occasional piece of paper lain over her feet, and I watched the tears slip from her eyes each time it did. As the last doctor shut her curtain, I pecked her on the forehead as I had done each night, with the promise I would see her again the next day. She wrapped her arms around my neck, and whispered "Thank you" in my ear. Now it was my turn to cry.