Even though, at times, I can still feel the coldness of rock bottom as I'm only dangling a few feet from it, I didn't actually realise things could actually get worse! And as I drop, my back cracks the cold stone of rock bottom and I plummet lower!
Arguments with H are never easy. My life, so it seemed at the time, was the worst it could have been! Accusations of being a cheat. They cut, they hurt, I bled! Maybe I say things at time without actually thinking of how the person on the receiving end thinks of it. A cheat I am not! And considering I was cheated on, badly, by my ex I just simply could not do that to someone I loved.
Amongst the accusational texts I had a missed call from a number unrecognised on my phone. "Nice try" I thought, I genuinely thought H had tried calling me off someone elses number to catch me out.
Aha, a voicemail. I called my mailbox, a mans voice spoke. "Kirsty, this is Uncle Tony". My stomach knotted, I knew what was coming but prayed it was something else. "Your dads had an accident, he's in intensive care. He went into a diabetic coma and was rushed in this afternoon after he was found" he said. I was choked, my eyes streamed and I could not breath. He's going to die!
I inhaled fast. I could not hide my fear. I thanked my uncle for calling, he was apologetic for baring bad news. I called my mum in a panic to come have the children for me. The children watched tv unaware of the trance I was in as I sat at the top of my stairs, rocking myself and crying hysterically. J came out as he could hear me crying "Get downstairs" I screamed at him. He scampered off, I felt awful but could not move or call to him.
If I call H now will he think I'm making this up for the sob story card?! I called him hysterically, I tried breathing to explain what had happened. I found it hard to say the words and broke down. H was granted a rail pass and said he'd get on the first train back to Wales. Did he care, or was he purely forfilling his husband role but with no feelings? The latter was my thought.
My mum turned up, she would not let me drive in the state that I was in. I text my friend to come look after the children so my mum could take me in.
Was my dad going to die?! Was my husband going to leave me?! I grasped to the side of the pit I was in "Please Lord, do not let me fall further" I thought.
My friend arrived, with trembling arms I hugged her. She reassured me best she could, and my mum guided me to her car. The fear inside me grew, but I was with my mum, she had seen me cry but now I had to be a big girl.
I saw the hospital, my stomach flipped and I thought I was going to faint. He was in there right now in a coma, on a ventilator! My mum squeezed my knee. I smiled at her with watery eyes.
She held my hand as I walked towards the hospital. We followed signs to ICU (Intensive Care Unit). We rang the bell, I have never been so scared in my life. We were not allowed in to see him as they were running tests. The nurse spoke to me but I heard nothing. I felt my mums arms around me, I felt numb, I responded as best I could.
We walked to the café, slowly. "Tea please mum" I said. She paid, I found a seat. We sat by the window, we were about 3 storeys high and could see the helicopter landing spot and A&E. I sipped my tea, the cleaner sang as she buffed the floor "...any dream will do...". Joseph and his technicoloured dream coat. I moaned to my mum about the cleaners horrendous voice, try to lighten the mood. My mum laughed but still looked at me with concern. I was hurting, but I knew she was too. Afterall she once loved this man. "He's going to be ok right?" I asked. "I don't know dear" my mother responded. She forced a smile at me, I forced one back.
After an hour, or maybe two, of waiting we were allowed in. Once again the nurse spoke as she led me to his bedside, I heard nothing. We haulted at the foot of his bed, the nurse explained what was happening to him, or what had happened and what they were doing with him. I heard nothing. I looked at my dads lifeless body on the bed. He had a towel wrapped around his head to keep him warm. He had pipes down his throat and tubes going in everywhere. The machinery around him was full of lights, sometimes it bleeped. Silent tears rolled down my face. I reached under the sheet to grasp his hand. His skin was as cold as ice. I looked at him, I looked at the machines. I looked at the towel wrapped around his head, I giggled. "If *H* was here he may mistake you as Taliban and shoot you dead" I whispered. H was on his way, I longed for his touch and reassurance.
My mother and I sat there just looking at him for a long time...
"Please be ok" I text my dads mobile phone.