SUNDAY

On Sunday 24th Feb we went out from lunch at the Bristol docks with some friends. It was the last day of half term and I was due to take my son back to his mother's at 5.30.
"Do you have any things you usually do on a sunday night before going back to work?", asked my friend over tea and cake.
"I'm not sure", I said" Maybe we'll see a film or something".
"I usually like to do something", he said. "To prolong the sense of being off work."


We finished with our friends about 4pm and it was too soon to set off to take my son back so I suggested dropping my partner(K) back home before getting some fuel and doing the journey. We agreed that I would pick up a DVD at Blockbusters on the way home. I would call her to discuss which one. I needed the loo - and worrying - as I do - about needing it for the whole journey I asked K to sit in the car with my son while I had my comfort break. On my way back out I thought - I'll just check the voice mail to make sure my son's mother hadn't left one of her messages asking me to have him later. The number 1571 didn't bring her voice. Instead that of the former step mum of K's son Z. I almost didn't listen to it - assuming she was asking us around to eat as she does sometimes. I remember the cold feeling in my stomach as I heard the words "car accident", "hospital" "London" "saturday night", "we're going now". I went outside and found her laughing with my son.

"Can you get out of the car a minute -there's been a message. "

I held her hand and lead her to the house. She was still smiling. I told her about the message saying her son had had a car accident and was in a London hospital. She swore several times. I told her to listen to the message and to phone the hospital. I would take my son home and we would take it from there.


Getting in the car I felt sick. I had a bad feeling about this one. If he had had the accident last night he must be unconcious or he would have called us. She was going immediately - it had serious written all over it. I told my son what was going on.

"Oh" he said," Can I have my MP3 player on?"

"Did you hear what I said", I repeated, "Z is in hospital - he's had a car accident."

"Yes I heard", he said.

A minute later, "Can you turn it up". I bit down and let him listen to his music leaving me alone with my fear.

As I dropped him off I told his mother. She said she was sorry. I phoned K. She had spoken to the hospital. He had a fractured skull. He had been hit by a car coming out of a pub. He was in intensive care.

"I'll take you there now", I said. "Pack some things"

She cried as I held her hand on the M4. We didn't speak much. We didn't have the stereo on. At one point she listened to her relaxation tape on her ipod and I listened to the Archers.


After three hours we arrived at the hospital. Someone whistled behind us as we walked up the main road. It was the step mother. We sort of hugged. She said she would see us later after she had eaten. We met K's friend at the gates who had arranged to give us a key to her house. She also gave K rescue remedy and some other homeopathic pills. It was a nice thought.

We couldn't find the intensive care unit in the refurbished building with a lack of signs. - then we found it. She rang the buzzer and after an age a nurse came an allowed us in - ushering us to the alcohol rub for our hands. I knew that this would soon be second nature. She asked K how long it was since she had seen her son. She struggled to remember but said it was a few months. The nurse warned us that we might not recognise him as he has badly swollen aroung the eyes and forehead. We were lead through an open ward full of unconcious people with drips and tubes and monitors. As we approached his bed we saw him. He looked bad - though not as bad as I had imagined in those seconds. He was unconcious with a ventilator tube in his mouth and a feeding tube in his nose. His eyes were swollen and closed like a boxers. There were white plugs in his nose. His forehead was bloody and had a dressing on it. He was recognisable to me as Z though it didn't seem like him. I don't think I have ever seen him asleep - let alone unconcious before.

After a while we were ushered into a room by a doctor. He was a consultant anaesthetist who was in charge of ICU on that shift. He gave us lots of information and I hung on his every word. He told us about Z being brought in on a helicopter. He said that he if you are going to injure the brain the front and the back are the least bad bits to hurt. He said that they would keep Z sedated while they waited for the swelling to stop. This could take 24 hours or more. He said that he wasn't out of the woods yet.

Later in the visitors room I chatted with his brother and his step mum. His father arrived from Ireland about 10.30. He kissed the step-mum and K - both his ex's. I stood up and offered him a hug awkwardly - he met it with a handshake but it was too late and I was committed to the hug. Stone paper scissors.

We left and drove to the house of the friend who had agreed to put us up. She focussed on navigating using my London A-Z. We let ourselves in and shuffled into the sofabed trying not to wake anyone. We had not eaten since 3pm in the cafe but it barely crossed my mind. She cried on my shoulder as we fell asleep.