Thirty One
The day had arrived.
That it had only been a week seemed beyond belief. It had seemed more like a year. A year of pain and fear and misery and anger and hope and...
Scott Tracy lay in his bed and listened to the sounds around him. He could hear the now familiar sounds of nurses and orderlies going about their daily business. The ring of a phone, the hum of traffic, the clatter of the meal trolley, the patter of rain on the window, the sounds of his brother sleeping...
"Scott?"
"Are you awake, Virg? I thought you'd be asleep."
"You must be joking! I've been awake the last couple of hours."
"You'll upset your blood pressure again."
"Too late. If it's gonna happen, it's already happened."
"So why are you awake?" Scott asked feeling that he already knew the answer.
"Couldn't sleep." Was the reply. "What's your excuse?"
"Oh the same." Scott heard Virgil sit up on the edge of his bed.
"Now are we going to admit the truth?" Virgil asked.
"Which is?" Scott was unwilling to voice his concerns.
"I thought you'd tell me."
They would have continued in this vein for ages, neither willing to admit their fears, if it hadn't been for an orderly bringing in their breakfast.
Virgil settled back in his bed and accepted his tray. Taking a sip from his orange juice he watched as Scott felt for the knife and fork and attacked the food in front of him with gusto. It took more than a few fears to put Scott off his food and Virgil had watched with interest over this past week, as Scott had grown in confidence in his tackling of the little things in life. It bode well for the future - whatever that held.
Virgil looked at his own tray. Scrambled eggs on toast. While not up to the standard he was used to, the food wasn't too bad, but someone clearly either had a warped sense of humour, or didn't realise that some things were quite difficult to achieve when you were struggling with only one hand. Cutting toast was one of those challenges that Virgil was having to deal with each day.
He took up the challenge and grasped the knife in his right hand. Getting it into the soggy toast wasn't difficult, but then he could only succeed in pushing the bread around the plate, knocking a fair proportion of his eggs onto the tray. He gave up on the toast and picked up his fork, deciding that scrambled eggs alone would do him this one morning. The egg seemed to have it's own ideas though and he chased it around the outside of the toast, occasionally managing to spoon a small amount into his mouth. Eventually he scraped what egg he could onto the toast, dropped the fork back onto the tray and picked up the toast in his hand. It collapsed back onto the plate, spilling what little egg he had left on to the tray, his bedclothes and the floor.
"Need a hand?"
Virgil looked at Scott. "If you wouldn't mind. I just need to get this toast cut."
"You only needed to ask."
"Thanks Scott."
Scott shifted his tray to the bedside table and slid out of bed. He grimaced when his bare feet came in contact with the cold floor. "What was that I just stood in?"
"Sorry. It's my scrambled eggs. I swear they've got a life of their own."
"So what did you do? Decide to give it its freedom?" With a little help from Virgil, Scott succeeded in reducing the toast to bite sized pieces. Gratefully Virgil eventually managed to enjoy most of his breakfast.
***
Later that morning, after a wash, a clean up around the bed and Virgil's medical examination, ("Your blood pressure's still slightly high." "Blame breakfast!"), both Scott and Virgil were sitting in thought, awaiting 11 am. The time Scott had dubbed "My unveiling".
"You slept better last night." Virgil eventually commented. "No nightmares?"
"That's because I didn't sleep."
Virgil climbed out of his bed, slid his feet into his slippers and sat in the chair beside Scott's bed. Placing a hand on Scott's arm he said quietly. "It'll be okay Scott. You'll see."
"Virgil." Scott's voice sounded strained. "Thanks... Thanks for everything. I think I would have lost it before now if it hadn't been for you."
"I'll always be here for you Scott. I said I'd never leave you and I mean it. What ever happens remember that..."
The quiet moment was disrupted by the door banging open.
"Let me guess." Scott said. "That's got to be Gordon."
The Tracy family were followed by Scott's doctor. "Quite a crowd" he noted.
"We're never ones to miss out on a good party." Gordon told him.
"Well I hope it's going to be good." Scott said.
"Well the signs are encouraging." The doctor told him. "How do you feel?"
"Nervous." Scott said honestly. "Otherwise fine."
"Do you remember what I told you that we're going to do?" The doctor addressed Scott, who nodded. "That's good, but for the rest of your family I'll remind you. We'll lower the light levels right down. This helps prevent any sudden stress on Scott's eyes. Then, once we've taken the bandages off we'll slowly raise the light level, to give him a chance to adjust."
"Sound's reasonable enough." Jeff was sitting to Scott's right, his mother at his shoulder, the doctor beside them.
On Scott's left, Virgil was sitting in his now familiar place at Scott's shoulder, his hand on his brother's arm. Around him were crowded Alan, Gordon and John wanting to get close, to know that their eldest brother was going to see again.
The light levels were dimmed so that they could barely see the person beside them. "Well Scott." The doctor said. "Are you ready?"
"As I'll ever be." Scott sounded confident, but he slipped his arm out from under Virgil's and grasped his brother's hand for support. Virgil felt the grip tighten as the bandages were unwound from Scott's head. Then the eye pads were carefully removed.
"Open your eyes slowly. That's good, now remember it'll take a little while for them to adjust."
Virgil noticed that rather than slackening, Scott's grip of his hand seemed to tighten. It sent a chill through his system.
The tension was thick. They were all willing Scott to say something, but no one was willing to push him against his will. They became aware that, for them at least, it was becoming easier to see. The lights were becoming brighter.
"Scott?" The doctor prompted.
Scott's features were pale. His lips were set tight.
"Son?" Jeff laid a hand on Scott's arm.
The family held their breath, waiting to hear what he had to say...
Slowly Scott shook his head. "I can't see..."
...
"I-I can't see..."
...
...
...
***
The day had arrived.
That it had only been a week seemed beyond belief. It had seemed more like a year. A year of pain and fear and misery and anger and hope and...
Scott Tracy lay in his bed and listened to the sounds around him. He could hear the now familiar sounds of nurses and orderlies going about their daily business. The ring of a phone, the hum of traffic, the clatter of the meal trolley, the patter of rain on the window, the sounds of his brother sleeping...
"Scott?"
"Are you awake, Virg? I thought you'd be asleep."
"You must be joking! I've been awake the last couple of hours."
"You'll upset your blood pressure again."
"Too late. If it's gonna happen, it's already happened."
"So why are you awake?" Scott asked feeling that he already knew the answer.
"Couldn't sleep." Was the reply. "What's your excuse?"
"Oh the same." Scott heard Virgil sit up on the edge of his bed.
"Now are we going to admit the truth?" Virgil asked.
"Which is?" Scott was unwilling to voice his concerns.
"I thought you'd tell me."
They would have continued in this vein for ages, neither willing to admit their fears, if it hadn't been for an orderly bringing in their breakfast.
Virgil settled back in his bed and accepted his tray. Taking a sip from his orange juice he watched as Scott felt for the knife and fork and attacked the food in front of him with gusto. It took more than a few fears to put Scott off his food and Virgil had watched with interest over this past week, as Scott had grown in confidence in his tackling of the little things in life. It bode well for the future - whatever that held.
Virgil looked at his own tray. Scrambled eggs on toast. While not up to the standard he was used to, the food wasn't too bad, but someone clearly either had a warped sense of humour, or didn't realise that some things were quite difficult to achieve when you were struggling with only one hand. Cutting toast was one of those challenges that Virgil was having to deal with each day.
He took up the challenge and grasped the knife in his right hand. Getting it into the soggy toast wasn't difficult, but then he could only succeed in pushing the bread around the plate, knocking a fair proportion of his eggs onto the tray. He gave up on the toast and picked up his fork, deciding that scrambled eggs alone would do him this one morning. The egg seemed to have it's own ideas though and he chased it around the outside of the toast, occasionally managing to spoon a small amount into his mouth. Eventually he scraped what egg he could onto the toast, dropped the fork back onto the tray and picked up the toast in his hand. It collapsed back onto the plate, spilling what little egg he had left on to the tray, his bedclothes and the floor.
"Need a hand?"
Virgil looked at Scott. "If you wouldn't mind. I just need to get this toast cut."
"You only needed to ask."
"Thanks Scott."
Scott shifted his tray to the bedside table and slid out of bed. He grimaced when his bare feet came in contact with the cold floor. "What was that I just stood in?"
"Sorry. It's my scrambled eggs. I swear they've got a life of their own."
"So what did you do? Decide to give it its freedom?" With a little help from Virgil, Scott succeeded in reducing the toast to bite sized pieces. Gratefully Virgil eventually managed to enjoy most of his breakfast.
***
Later that morning, after a wash, a clean up around the bed and Virgil's medical examination, ("Your blood pressure's still slightly high." "Blame breakfast!"), both Scott and Virgil were sitting in thought, awaiting 11 am. The time Scott had dubbed "My unveiling".
"You slept better last night." Virgil eventually commented. "No nightmares?"
"That's because I didn't sleep."
Virgil climbed out of his bed, slid his feet into his slippers and sat in the chair beside Scott's bed. Placing a hand on Scott's arm he said quietly. "It'll be okay Scott. You'll see."
"Virgil." Scott's voice sounded strained. "Thanks... Thanks for everything. I think I would have lost it before now if it hadn't been for you."
"I'll always be here for you Scott. I said I'd never leave you and I mean it. What ever happens remember that..."
The quiet moment was disrupted by the door banging open.
"Let me guess." Scott said. "That's got to be Gordon."
The Tracy family were followed by Scott's doctor. "Quite a crowd" he noted.
"We're never ones to miss out on a good party." Gordon told him.
"Well I hope it's going to be good." Scott said.
"Well the signs are encouraging." The doctor told him. "How do you feel?"
"Nervous." Scott said honestly. "Otherwise fine."
"Do you remember what I told you that we're going to do?" The doctor addressed Scott, who nodded. "That's good, but for the rest of your family I'll remind you. We'll lower the light levels right down. This helps prevent any sudden stress on Scott's eyes. Then, once we've taken the bandages off we'll slowly raise the light level, to give him a chance to adjust."
"Sound's reasonable enough." Jeff was sitting to Scott's right, his mother at his shoulder, the doctor beside them.
On Scott's left, Virgil was sitting in his now familiar place at Scott's shoulder, his hand on his brother's arm. Around him were crowded Alan, Gordon and John wanting to get close, to know that their eldest brother was going to see again.
The light levels were dimmed so that they could barely see the person beside them. "Well Scott." The doctor said. "Are you ready?"
"As I'll ever be." Scott sounded confident, but he slipped his arm out from under Virgil's and grasped his brother's hand for support. Virgil felt the grip tighten as the bandages were unwound from Scott's head. Then the eye pads were carefully removed.
"Open your eyes slowly. That's good, now remember it'll take a little while for them to adjust."
Virgil noticed that rather than slackening, Scott's grip of his hand seemed to tighten. It sent a chill through his system.
The tension was thick. They were all willing Scott to say something, but no one was willing to push him against his will. They became aware that, for them at least, it was becoming easier to see. The lights were becoming brighter.
"Scott?" The doctor prompted.
Scott's features were pale. His lips were set tight.
"Son?" Jeff laid a hand on Scott's arm.
The family held their breath, waiting to hear what he had to say...
Slowly Scott shook his head. "I can't see..."
...
"I-I can't see..."
...
...
...
***