Just keep breathing

Chapter 82

       
Katie's perspective

"Harrrrry," I protest feebly as he rushes around my tiny bedroom pulling out various items of clothing from the wardrobe and drawers.

"I didn't spend the last week learning how to walk again just so you could run around doing everything for me. I can pack my own damn bag!" I moan from my spot on the bed.

It's been just over a week now since the hospital finally released me and allowed me to come home, much to my annoyance they had insisted that, despite my asthma being much better, I needed to stay there until I had managed to find my feet again.

It had taken me six days to manage to walk unaided to the small bathroom adjoining my room, and I cannot tell you how amazing it felt to close the door on the world and be alone in there, even for a few minutes.

As much as I am grateful for the fantastic care I received at the hospital, there came the point where I just couldn't bear the nurses having to do everything for me anymore. I couldn't so much as wash myself or go to the toilet without someone's help for the first few days, and it was humiliating.

When they agreed, on the fourth day after I woke up, that they would let me go home on two conditions, I was determined to meet whatever challenge they set me as soon as possible.

The first of the two conditions was easy. I wasn't allowed to be left alone for a couple of weeks.

How Doctor Matthews had managed to say that one with a straight face I will never know, given that we both knew there was no way in hell Harry was going to leave my side even if I begged him too until he had to go back on tour.

The second condition was that I had to be able to walk to the bathroom without assistance; this one proved to be a little more challenging.

With the help of a very gorgeous physiotherapist, who Harry was insanely jealous of which was just hilarious - as if anyone could possibly replace him in my eyes or my heart! I had managed to strengthen my legs to the point where I could take a couple of steps without being held up, but that was about it.

On day five, I had made my first attempt and failed miserably, only getting away with no injuries because Harry's strong arms had whipped out lightning-fast and grabbed me under my armpits before I had the chance to hit the cold hard floor of my hospital room. On day six, however, I was determined.

I had had enough of lying prone in that damn bed. I was bored out of my mind! Harry did his best to entertain me, of course. He spent hours and hours singing to me, reading to me from my favourite books and even letting me beat him at scrabble a couple of times.

I knew I must be getting better when he finally stopped throwing the games and allowed himself to win. Still, I was going stir crazy being cooped up in such a small space.

My parents and Mel came to visit daily, and Harry never left my side for longer than it took him to pop home and have a shower, but I was ready to be my own woman again, I needed to be. The longer I allowed everyone to do things for me, the harder it was going to be to get back to normal.

So on day six, despite the fact that I had been up half the night, my nightmares have become more prominent since this last near-death episode, or actual death I guess as I was gone for a few minutes there. I pushed myself up on my elbows and shuffled my bum to the edge of the mattress closest to the bathroom door.

Harry hovered in front of me, arms outstretched, ready to catch me if I stumbled, but by some miracle, I didn't.

I cannot explain how wonderful it feels to wash your own face with warm running water instead of wet towels, or go to the toilet without help. I spent way longer in that bathroom than I really needed to, revelling in the fact that I was able to do things for myself again.