Читать книгу Everyday Madness: On Grief, Anger, Loss and Love - Lisa Appignanesi - Страница 14

I AM SITTING on a plastic chair beside his bed. We are relatively high up, but the windows are murky and the light that comes in is grey and blemished. He is dozing, it seems peacefully. His lips are parched, and when he opens his eyes, I ask him if he’d like some water or some of the ice cream I’ve brought for him, thinking it might go down well. I’ve been inspired by the large number of lollies he was forced to eat while the harvested stem cells were introduced back into his blood with a drip.

He’s weak and I feed him – just a few mouthfuls. He dozes off again, and sometime in that doze, he murmurs, ‘I’m glad you’re here.’

I stroke his hand. Tears come to my eyes. In all these gruelling weeks he has never before said that to me.

A little later he wakes again. This time he is more troubled. When the nurse comes to check on him, he grunts and groans. She has nothing to say to my questions, so I leave her to him, making my way through the two sets of doors that barricade the room from invisible killers. I stretch my legs. I realize that the dark is setting in. I also realize I haven’t brought my specs with me and need them to drive in the dark. When I’m back with John, I explain I have to make a dash home. He tells me to take his pyjamas with me and wash them.

In the toilet the reek is overwhelming. I see a cascade of diarrhoea – in its midst sodden pyjama bottoms.

I come out and tell him there’s no point. I’ll bring fresh ones.

‘No, take them,’ he says. His eyes are two angry slits. ‘Take them.’ He raises his voice.

I know he loves these pyjamas above any others. They’re ancient, but his favourites.

I go back into the toilet, not allowing myself to breathe, and realize I simply can’t lift this squelch of body and other materials. I feel defiled. I will dissolve, liquefy into the stench. My body is turning to waste, mirroring his, yet I’m being called upon to be mother to this ageing toddler.

‘That’s all you’re good for,’ I hear him shouting. ‘Cleaning shit.’

That was the last sentence he uttered to me. It hit me with the force of a body blow and mired me. Engulfed.