The Journey Home- October and November, 1917

"Private Craven, I have your x-ray results. Your legs are healing well and the fracture of your spine seems to have stabilized. The sensation and control in your trunk have improved as well, and thus far you've managed to avoid any severe infections. I'm going to discharge you at the end of the week. The therapists here are not equipped for the continued rehabilitation you will require. We are too short staffed and too overcrowded to give you everything you need. However I will be referring you to an American colleague of mine, Dr. Monroe. He is doing wonders with spinal patients in Philadelphia and he will be in England in a few months overseeing the opening of a rehabilitation facility for orthopedic and neurological patients in Manchester. He may wish you to come there for further treatment. In the meantime I will make sure that your nurse is qualified in our rehabilitation methods, and I will continue visiting you monthly to monitor your progress." Dr. Hawthorne closed his file and looked up at Colin, expecting a response, though Colin wasn't sure what response he hoped for.

Colin had been listening intently, nodding at times, wheeling slowly back and forth, his new way of pacing. He couldn't decide if this was a good thing or not. He wanted to go home, he was tired of the hospital. He hated going to sleep to the sound of sick and dying men. He hated waking up to the same hospital routine everyday. Yet in a way he was afraid to go home, home felt like it meant his injury was more permanent somehow. As much as he hated it, the routine of hospital life was familiar, even comforting. He knew that he may need to come back into hospital for therapy or other treatment. Or simply if he was ill or had an infection, but it still made it all feel more real. As though recovery was ending, and life in a chair was really beginning. He knew too that he would continue physiotherapy to become stronger at home, but that still seemed like an insurmountable challenge. Here, everyone understood what he had seen on the front lines, and what he was now going through physically. No one stared at his chair or talked down to him as he remembered people doing when he had used a wheelchair as a child. No one ever batted an eye when he pissed himself or had violent muscle spasms. Here it was all normal, all taken care of, just another product of the war. At home, it would be like learning everything all over again, all the simple acts he had learned in the hospital weren't necessarily easily translated to Misselthwaite Manor. Colin was brought out of his thoughts by his doctor's continued discussion of two images he had just brought from a second file.

"I do want to discuss your most recent x-rays. As you can see, these have shown that the swelling around the spinal cord has gone down. These images of the cord are much clearer than your initial x-rays, and they have shown significant damage to the cord." he pointed to the left hand image on his desk.

"On these new images where the swelling has gone down you can see that a portion of the cord has been compressed by the dislocated vertebrae. You can also see that as the bones heal the bone seem to be returning to a more normal position, so the pressure on the cord will continue to lessen over time. This means improvement is still possible and that over time is will less likely for you to re-injure yourself with everyday activities. You may continue to experience return of sensation up to eighteen months post injury, I've seen some patients regain new sensations as much as two years on. However I would say it is unlikely that you will see much more significant return of movement, I'm sorry." Colin nodded. None of this was particularly surprising. Though he was glad that this meant he wouldn't have to be treated as though he were made of glass for the rest of his life. He hated having to wear the cumbersome back brace every time he had to be moved. If he didn't have to worry about hurting himself maybe he could find ways to be active, independent, at least a little. Colin interrupted Dr. Hawthorne's explanation with an unexpected question.

"If I stay healthy, do you think I could go back to university? I was at Cambridge before I joined up. I wanted to study medicine. I received honors my first year, they may accept me back despite..." he gestured to his legs, as though gesturing to an unruly piece of machinery. Dr. Hawthorne looked up at him, a little surprised, and leaned over his desk, looking Colin up and down quizzically. He raised an eyebrow, half nodding as he considered Colin's question.

"Honestly I couldn't say. You may be able to regain your health enough to be physically able to handle the workload. The real trouble would be the buildings. You would have to have people with you to bring you to classes, up stairs. Getting around the campus will be physically straining, and possibly detrimental to your overall health. I know of no one who has done this. But that is not to say you couldn't. Honestly, I really don't know son." Colin nodded. A bubble of hope was growing in his stomach. Just because no one else had done it doesn't mean he couldn't. He had proved people wrong before, even if he had to give up walking, that didn't mean he couldn't prove the world wrong again. He would fight. He would get out of this hospital, get home, get strong, and eventually, get his degree, one way or another.

It was a rainy morning in November when Colin awakened to his last morning in the hospital. He was nervous, the rain making his mood more apprehensive. As he picked at his breakfast the storm cleared, revealing an unexpectedly blue sky.

The journey to Misselthwaite proved to be a dismal one. Colin was laid flat on a stretcher, his pale, pained face in stark contrast to the bright autumn day outside. His uniform drew pitying stares towards their little group, and a few older, motherly looking women came up and said a few comforting words to Colin.

"You'll be alright lovey!" called a stout woman in a green dress

"Poor dearie, it's all over now, you've done your bit." came another, motherly voice. He gave them pained smiles and whispered thanks, even though he mostly just wanted to be left alone. He figured their sons or grandsons were probably overseas and they needed someone to reassure them that they were alright. His thin, still, form was cold comfort he knew, but he couldn't destroy their hope. He had been doing so well in the hospital, he had felt stronger every day. But the journey to the train station had been brutal. He felt like he had been pushed back in his recovery by months. He certainly wasn't looking forward to the train journey any longer.

The train ride was a blurry hell of pain and exhaustion. First there was the painful and awkward transfer from the stretcher to the bunk, then once the train began moving, every jolt sent waves of pain through Colin's body. Even after months in the hospital, and countless hours of physio, his back was extremely tender and movement caused him severe pain. Worse than that, the jerking movements of the train had begun to trigger painful spasms in his legs which lasted for many minutes and thoroughly exhausted him. Mary sat beside him, holding his hand, and periodically massaging his legs and back to try and relieve some of the pain and spasms. They sat in silence, watching the beauty of the English countryside passing by them, though Colin got no joy from the sight. Mary never let go of Colin's hand, not when his face screwed up with pain, not when he shouted out in short gasps, and not when he eventually, mercifully, fell asleep.

Once Colin was asleep, his body exhausted by pain (and helped along by a tablet of morphine), Mary turned her attention to her uncle who was sitting stiffly in the corner of the cabin.

"He should sleep the rest of the journey Uncle Archie. He'll be groggy for a few days but..." Archie cut her off,

"It's better than having him in that much pain. I can't stand seeing him like that." Archie went quiet after that, staring out the window but looking at nothing.

Journey Home: Part II

Colin was carried upstairs to the room in which he had spent the first ten years of his life. He was already half asleep by the time he was undressed and settled into the tall four poster bed hung with brocade. The journey from the hospital had tired him so. He could tell that the journey had undone some of the progress he had made while in the hospital. He almost had to laugh at how he had managed to exhaust himself essentially by lying on a stretcher on a train. Dr. Craven came in briefly as did the specialist nurse whom Dr. Hawthorne had recommended. The meeting with Dr. Craven was strange for Colin. During his teens Colin had come to the point of forgiving his uncle for his misguided care. He had realized that if he never gave any indication to Dr. Craven that he was anything but a sickly invalid, there was no reason for Dr. Craven to think that he wasn't. He also knew that on the all too frequent occasions when he had been legitimately ill, it was Dr. Craven who nursed him back to health. As a child he had survived rheumatic fever, typhoid, and on one occasion a nearly fatal bout of double pneumonia. He knew that it was only thanks to Dr. Craven that he had survived. During his fight with pneumonia, Colin remembered a night when his breath began to rattle in his chest and he didn't have even the strength to cough, he could feel his lungs filling with fluid. His breathing became shallow and ragged, and his lips turned blue. He had felt life itself leaving him. Dr. Craven had moved him into the bathroom and filled the room with steam. Colin was barely conscious so he held him upright, pounding his back and wrapping his chest in hot wet towels until he managed to bring up enough mucus that his breathing began to ease. He wasn't meant to survive that night, but thanks to Dr. Craven, he did. He knew as well that taking on such a treatment had required both bravery and love. His uncle had sat in a stifling room for nearly twelve full hours, Colin remembered coughing thick mucus onto his uncle's jacket, crying in his arms, his exhausted little body violently vomiting due to the great effort of coughing. At eight years old Colin had not understood that this showed his uncle to be a caring man. He only knew that at a point when all he wanted to do was sleep his uncle's treatment sent him into fits of painful exhausting coughs. He hadn't understood until he was older that the painful treatment had been lifesaving.

Colin had begun around the age of 15 to visit his uncle's office during rainy summer days to read his medical books. His uncle was not a cruel man or even a dreadful doctor, he knew that he now trusted his uncle's care. Yet realizing that he was once again an invalid under Dr. Craven's care gave Colin an unnerving sense of deja vu. If anything, it was worse for Dr. Craven, his eyes carried a deep sadness and guilt as he met Colin in the entry hall. His hand cupped Colin's cheek in a fatherly way, his thumb brushed a tear away from Colin's cheek as Colin reached his hand to Dr. Craven's and entwined their fingers.

"I'm so sorry Colin." There was so much in those four words. 'I'm sorry I didn't stop you from going.' 'I'm sorry I didn't give you more years walking. I'm sorry that this time there really is nothing I can do. I am so so sorry.' Colin nodded silently, squeezing his uncle's hand.

Colin's first night home had been a difficult one. He was in a great deal of pain and despite a dose of pain medication and a sleeping draught he slept poorly. During his nearly ten week stay in the hospital Colin had become accustomed to nurses coming during the night to turn him and had mostly learned to sleep through it. But that first night home Colin woke with his night nurse every two hours when she came to turn him. By the morning he was depressed and exhausted, angry at his body for betraying him.

He still lay, crying silently into his pillow when he heard his door open quietly. He heard a thickly accented female voice, she sighed something in a foreign language, -

"Oh, bubbeleh"-then said in English.

"Master Craven, I've been sent to bring you some breakfast if you think you can eat." Colin turned his head to look at her. The girl was beautiful, she was around his own age but short and strongly built. She had dark hair which framed her face with soft curls and big, dark eyes. Her face was so kind, and caring, it nearly sent him bursting into tears again but instead he just shook his head joylessly.

"I'm not hungry."

The girl came closer, placing a tray on the bedside table. She sat in the chair which had been placed next to his bed and looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

"I was told you would say that. But unfortunately for you, I was also told not to listen." Colin couldn't help but give her a watery smile. It was nice to be spoken to with humor, rather than pity.

"At least tell me your name first." He hated how weak and tired his voice sounded. But still she smiled and gave a small nod.

"My name is Rutka. Nu, so, would you like to try and sit up, then you could eat for yourself. Then there is no need for me to do it, which I am sure you would prefer." Colin was exhausted but something about his girl made him give a nod. "Here, put your arm around my shoulder" Colin obliged, wincing as Rutka maneuvered him slowly into a semi seated position, propped up by a mound of pillows. Colin sipped his tea listlessly and took his pain medication and picked at a few bites of toast. After several minutes Colin began to feel quite dizzy, he felt his stomach lurch in protest to his upright position. He had had this problem in the hospital, the strange sensation of sitting upright, yet being mostly unable to feel himself sitting on the bed, the strange floating sensation often left him dizzy and nauseous. Dr. Hawthorne had said it would pass in time and he would be able to sit up normally. Clearly the journey had set him back, he hadn't vomited from sitting up too long in over two weeks.

"I think I'm going to be sick." Rutka reacted quickly moving his tray and replacing it with a bedpan. There wasn't much in Colin's stomach to bring up. He coughed and gagged as Rutka held him up, taking most of his weight on her small shoulders, she soothingly rubbed his back murmuring into his ear.

"It's going to be alright, you'll feel better in a minute."

When he was done, Rutka gave him some water to rinse his mouth. She took a cloth and wiped his lips before laying him down. Colin could never remember being this embarrassed in his entire life. He knew he shouldn't be, this girl was a servant, and worse, clearly not English. There certainly could never be romance between them. Impossible, especially now. But still, she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life and the first time they met he had thrown up. Now he was shaking and sweating, tears pricking his eyes. It was humiliating. He laughed cynically,

"You must think me a right pathetic bastard." She looked hard at Colin, leaning over him and daubing a cool cloth on his cheek.

"No, I don't. I think your body is fighting a battle, maybe not in a battlefield but still a battle. Your body is doing everything it can to make you survive. There's no shame in that."

Her kindness broke him. Almost unconsciously he murmured

"God how do I get through this?" There was a dark knowledge in her eyes when she replied softly, shrugging her shoulders slightly.

"You just survive, you just keep going, one day at a time. There is no choice, you just do." Colin's eyes were pleading; "How? How the hell do I survive like this?" Rutka's heart swelled for the broken man before her. She knew it wasn't her place to comfort him, but she couldn't help herself. She took Colin's hand, and folded it between her own.

"You live, you keep going, one day at a time. You wake up, you breath, you eat, you sleep, you speak to those you love. You will get through this, sir, I promise you, the world will not always look so dark. I know it seems so now, but soon, it will be easier. You will get stronger. You will get used to it. People, we are so strong, so much stronger than we think, we can get used to almost anything. One day you will wake up and you will be happy, and all this will not feel so horrible. All you have to do is survive one more day. One, plus, one, plus one. In time, with help, you will build a life, a good life."

Colin gave a watery smile,

"Just not a very mobile one." They sat in silence for a few moments, her eyes were distant as though looking into the past. Then she pulled herself back.

"So much pain in the world, we shouldn't think of it. Let's clean you up and then, we go forward. No more looking to the past, you have a new life now. You must learn to live it. And we start with getting you out of this bed." Colin shifted to see the wheelchair which once again sat by his window.

"Why? I'll just be sick again if I try to sit up." He had sat in a wheelchair for short periods during his last weeks in the hospital. But his doctor had made it clear that he shouldn't be sitting for long periods until his back had healed more completely. Mostly he had been either in bed or in the cumbersome spinal carriage which they used to move him around the hospital and the grounds.

At that moment Mary walked in. She smiled at Rutka,

"I've come as reinforcements," she looked at Colin "I figured you would be making yourself quite impossible by now." Colin smirked.

"You know me so well, cousin." Rutka smiled at their banter.

"Surprisingly we've done rather well, your cousin has given you a bad name." Colin grunted slightly, a tiny hint of laughter in his eyes.

"Yes, of course, I only vomited my breakfast all over you, nothing too serious." Rutka was clearing away the soiled bedpan at that moment, and laughed.

"Not all over, you were very tidy. Besides, I'm one of ten children, believe me, that was nothing." Colin shrugged, giving a half smile.

"Point taken, I still don't see why I have to be out of bed. It's not as though I'm going to be doing anything, I'm not supposed to sit up for more than an hour at a time. And besides that, forgive me, but I don't see how the two of you are going to get me into that chair." Colin was probably right, he couldn't yet help much with his own transfers, and although he had lost a good deal of weight he still had probably had at least 4 inches on both of them. Mary pulled her long time favorite footstool near Colin's bed and sat down.

"Oh we won't be doing that, Tom and the nurse will be coming in a few minutes to get you into the chair. Dr. Craven said he wanted you in the chair when he comes by. He seemed quite insistent." Colin groaned.

"God in heaven why?" Mary shrugged.

"I haven't the foggiest, still at least it's better than him keeping you in this bed forever." Colin rubbed his still slightly spinning head.

"At this point I'm not so sure about that."

Rutka could see the pain in Mary's face as she tried to remain cheerful. Rutka put a comforting hand on Mary's shoulder. She spoke calmly, but decisively.

"How about we try something? Perhaps if we sit you up only a little bit at a time, and let you rest in between you will not feel so dizzy, it is like when you run or learn something new, you make it only a little harder and it never seems too hard to continue." Slowly, one pillow at a time with breaks in between they got Colin once again into a sitting position. This time he didn't feel so dizzy, and by the time Nurse Mount and Tom came in he was sitting rather comfortably and had even managed a bit more of his breakfast. Colin's bed was much higher than his hospital bed had been so getting him into his chair was more difficult. Nurse Mount and Mary held him in a seated position at the edge of his bed, they then they held his legs as Tom lifted him carefully into his chair. When he was finally settled it took a few moments for him to collect himself, his body was still exhausted and achy from the past day's journey and he was feeling the lingering effects of the sleeping draught he had taken the night before.

"Well, I'm up, I hope Dr. Craven's happy. Putting me through this so early." Mary chuckled slightly as it was at that very moment that Rutka brought Dr. Craven into the room.

"As a matter of fact I am, Colin. It's good to see you up, even if you look a bit peaked" Colin snorted, still in a bad mood. Mostly as a consequence of the pain. His back was already aching after his short time upright. Dr. Craven set down his bag on a table and moved up to Colin. He brought a chair opposite Colin so they were looking eye to eye, his brows furrowed.

"Are you in much pain Colin." Colin snorted, his mood was not improved by his uncle's kindness, or his concern

"What do you think? Yes of course I'm in pain, I'm in pain all the time!" Dr. Craven sighed, he slowly lifted and locked the wooden footrests so that Colin's legs were elevated at a slight angle, then he took two cushions from Colin's sofa and placed one behind his back and the other under his knees. The splint had been removed but reinforced bandages remained to keep the bones straight and assist his circulation.

"That should help a bit for now, it won't feel like quite such a shock on your back, and I won't keep you up too long, you do need your rest. But we do have a lot of work to do." Colin rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on.

"What kind of work could I possibly do like this?" He growled, glowering quite sullenly. Dr. Craven looked hard at his nephew, setting his jaw ever so slightly as though to tell the young man that he knew every sullen face Colin could make and this time he wasn't going to heed any of them.

"Well Colin, we have to get you to the point where you can sit up for more than five minutes without pain. You have to learn to care for yourself, to bathe yourself and dress yourself. You need work with me and your nurse to take care of your body as it continues to heal and then you have to work very hard to build your arm strength. You have a great deal of work which you can do, and which, indeed, you must do." Another stab of pain shot up Colin's spine, finding its resting place around his left temple. He leaned his head back, twisting his neck trying to relieve the pain. Dr. Craven stood and felt Colin's forehead.

"Your temperature is slightly elevated." Dr. Craven noted concernedly, Mary spoke up, her tone worried.

"Doctor, Colin vomited earlier this morning, we thought it was just dizziness from coming off the morphine he had yesterday but now..." Dr. Craven looked concerned but Colin just turned his head away, waving away Dr. Craven's hand.

"Oh will you both stop fussing! I'm fine, I'm not ill, I'm just tired, don't treat me like I'm some fragile pathetic thing!" Mary's looked daggers at her cousin.

"That's not what we're doing and you know it! We care for you Colin, we don't want to see you hurt." Colin scoffed.

"Too late." He said somewhat darkly, but Mary could see that her hard stare had softened his anger.

"Mary, Nurse, I'd like him back in bed please. I think perhaps this was too much too soon. Rest today, perhaps we can try some time in the chair again tomorrow." When Colin was back in bed, Dr. Craven dismissed Mary and Nurse Mount.

"I know you're angry and tired Colin, I understand that. But this could be the beginning of another infection, somebody will have to check, but you can choose who, would you prefer me or the nurse?" Defeated, Colin murmured,

"You can do it." Dr. Craven nodded.

"Alright, first I am going to check your urine, can you feel at all when you have to go?"

"I've started to a little, but it comes and goes. And it isn't really a normal sensation, it's mostly noticing when I have spasms in my abdomen. Sometimes I feel pressure too, but not always."

"Are you able to pass water yourself, or only with the catheter?" Colin didn't think his face was capable of turning a deeper shade of red.

"I haven't tried. When it happens... accidentally... Dr. Hawthorne said there wasn't any residuals. I don't quite know what that means, but he said that was a good sign." Dr. Craven nodded.

"It is, Colin, it might not seem like much but it is. Believe me. So is the sensation, you may be able use it in time to regain some continence." Colin didn't react much, but gave a half hearted nod. Dr. Craven washed his hands then catheterized his patient, and thankfully there didn't seem to be any infection. Dr. Craven then checked Colin's back and legs for pressure wounds. Sure enough, a small sore had opened on the bony protuberance of Colin's heel.

"Hmmm... this must be from your boots yesterday. Once you're up and about we'll have to find a way around this, we can't have your heels constantly breaking down. Especially since you've avoided severe sores thus far. I'm going to put some iodine on the wound and I want you to make sure your legs remain elevated, I don't want any pressure on that heel." Colin nodded and after cleaning and tending to the sore, Dr. Craven took his leave.

Mary came in some time later with some broth and Colin obediently drank, he was still completely exhausted and just wanted to sleep away the fever.