Before I Saw You(29)
‘Let’s all gang up on Alfie. Let’s all gang up on Alfie.’ Ruby’s singing was getting louder and louder as the dancing got more and more spirited.
‘Ruby, enough!’ Jackie half attempted to control the wild child dancing up and down the ward.
‘I see. I guess I’ll just be silent for the remainder of my time here then, shall I?’ Alfie folded his arms in defiance.
‘At last the penny drops!’ Mr Peterson slapped his hand to his forehead in mock exasperation while Alice sniggered next door.
‘Perfect. Let me just grab my prosthetic and I’ll be out of your hair immediately. That’s right, my prosthetic – because I only have one leg and you’re all abusing a disabled young man. I really hope you can find a way to live with yourselves!’
‘You’re both idiots, the pair of you. Now, Alfie, let’s get you ready. The physician wants to see you before physio today, baby.’ Nurse Angles was already trying to lift him out of his bed before he had a chance to protest.
‘Wait, why does the physician want to see me?’
‘Maybe he’s going to answer all our prayers and get you discharged.’ Mr Peterson chuckled.
He couldn’t go now, surely?
Not yet. Please, not just yet.
*
‘Come on, Alfie, concentrate. I know you’re tired but you’re doing so well. We’re so close to nailing this. I reckon you only need a couple more rounds.’
Alfie was unceremoniously snapped out of his daydream by the familiar motivational tones of Darren, the physiotherapist. Darren was a sweet guy who really cared about his patients. You could see it in the way he picked people up off the floor, dusted them down, and pushed them to try over and over again. He was the light when no one was home and he was the energy when the tank was running on empty. Darren was the kind of person you wanted to do well for as a patient. You’d try doubly hard just because you couldn’t stand the thought of letting him down. However, his kindness was a double-edged sword, simultaneously offering himself up as both a cheerleader and a punchbag. It made Alfie cringe to think back to how he used to behave at times.
When he’d first started treatment, Alfie being Alfie assumed it would be over in a few weeks. But apparently being thrown from a moving vehicle at seventy miles per hour, sliding across the tarmac and having one of your limbs amputated really took it out of you. The physical exertion was one thing, but no one could have prepared him for the emotional toll of it all. The embarrassment of having to relearn the most basic things was enough to reduce him to tears. A twenty-eight-year-old man crying from the sheer difficulty of lifting a weight he would have previously blinked at felt extremely emasculating. At first he was able to keep the emotion tightly bottled up inside, drowning out the negativity with the words of encouragement from those around him. Everyone told him it would get easier; it would take some time, but things would soon get better.
Except they didn’t.
They got harder.
There were times when he couldn’t even get himself out of his wheelchair, couldn’t even lift his leg up, didn’t even have the energy to cry. It was then that he cracked, and out poured the torrent of emotions he’d kept so carefully contained. Initially the outbursts were directed at himself.
You stupid weak idiot.
Look at what you’ve become.
You’re a joke.
Try harder, you fucking loser.
Like a vicious snake the anger writhed and twisted in the pit of his stomach, its fiery tongue licking at his flesh until he was seared with the pain. When it had gorged on all of him, the creature had to look elsewhere for fuel, directing its venom at anyone close to him. It hurt to remember the times he would collapse into Darren’s arms, too tired to move another inch. It was even more painful when he remembered how he would lash out, punching and screaming into Darren’s torso at the shame of falling once again.
He would have liked to say he managed to turn it around himself, realizing how ineffective his behaviour was to his recovery and how detrimental his outbursts were to his healing. But it took the great insight of his mum for it to hit home.
‘The doctors and physio team have told me you’re acting up. What’s going on, Alf?’
‘Nothing. I’m just tired. It’s hard and I’m done with it.’
‘You’re done with it?’ Her eyes widened in disbelief.
‘Please don’t start, Mum. Do you have any idea what it’s like living this way? Like a fucking freak?’ He had never spoken to her like that before, but he was so full of hate he couldn’t control it.
‘Alfred Mack, never in my life have I been disappointed in you. Never.’ She’d bent down to look directly into his eyes. ‘Until right now.’
He’d tried to turn his face away, but she’d reached out and held it in front of her. ‘Are you telling me you’re a quitter? That my own flesh and blood is someone that gives up? I did not raise you to be “done with it”, Alfie, no matter how hard things get. Because guess what? Life is hard. I can’t imagine the hell you’re going through and I won’t pretend to, but my God, I’ve known pain. I know what it’s like to feel there is no hope left any more. You think it was easy for me? You think my heart didn’t break every single day during that time?’
He winced and began to speak but she cut him off immediately. ‘I’m not asking for your sympathy, I’m just telling you that there’s always a way out. Even when you’re in so deep you can’t see anything but the darkness. Alfie, there’s a whole life out there waiting for you. It might not be the life you had before or the one you dreamed of having, but it’s there. There’s an opportunity for you that right now you’re throwing away. I’ll be here every minute of every day and I’ll support you in any way I can, but I won’t stay around and watch you chuck your future away. I promise you that.’ Her eyes were fierce. ‘So what are you going to do?’