All Comes Tumbling Down

Part 3 - Patsy

The world ceased rotating on its axis in that one instant.

"DELIA!" Patsy shouted.

The Welshwoman was lying at the foot of the stairs, her body rigid and convulsing.

Patsy flew down the steps as fast as she could. Delia was having a seizure, that much was clear. Her eyes were rolled back into her head and her limbs were flailing wildly out of control. The sight made Patsy sick to the stomach.

She rushed to Delia's aid while Trixie stood, rooted to the spot, clearly in shock and unable to move. Calling on her training Patsy tried to help Delia onto her side in order to clear her airway but the idea was easier said than done. The Welshwoman's unpredictable movements made it nearly impossible and Patsy was fearing a kick or punch in the jaw at any moment. A strange choking noise was coming from Delia's mouth. Patsy knew this wasn't necessarily cause of immediate concern, having seen major seizures in patients before. But seeing everything happen to Delia was completely different. She felt utterly helpless towards the brunette's distress. She floundered for a brief moment but managed to shake out the panic. Focus on what you can do, not on what you can't.

"It's alright Delia, I'm here, you're going to be fine," she tried to speak evenly, gently holding Delia's hair back and keeping her head tilted best she could. Reassurance was important - even if it was mainly for herself.

Lucille appeared from her post by the telephone to see what all the commotion was about.

Patsy's head whipped around, "Call Doctor Turner!" she yelled.

She took a moment then, tearing her eyes away from Delia - why wasn't anybody helping!?

Lucille sprung into action, her movement triggering Trixie to snap out of her trance. The blonde rushed to Patsy and together they finally managed to maneuver Delia's shaking body onto her side. The redhead's eyes were blurring with tears, it was a horrible sight to witness. A dull pain began growing inside her chest. Seeing Delia in so much distress was actually physically hurting her.

Eventually, after what felt like half an hour but in reality was only a couple of minutes, Delia's muscle spasms began to ease and her body started to relax. Lucille came bounding back.

"Doctor is on his way." she panted.

"Thank you sweetie." whispered Trixie.

Patsy nodded in thanks. She felt slightly guilty for being brusque with Lucille earlier but there were far more pressing concerns than apologising right now.

Lucille stood looking rather helpless as she watched the tangle of midwives at the foot of the stairs.

"Perhaps we should move her to the sofa?" she suggested.

"That's probably a good idea." Trixie agreed.

Patsy said nothing but did not relinquish her steady hold on the brunette. For some reason words just could not form in her mouth she was fixated on Delia's pale face and unseeing eyes.

"If she's had a grand-mal, which it looks like it's more than possible, she's going to be rather disorientated for a bit. It's best we sit her somewhere comfortable as she comes round," Trixie explained to Patsy, softly. "Lucille could you take her arms, I'll get her legs and Patsy can support her body."

"No!" Patsy found her voice at last, "We haven't checked her for injuries... from the fall," she clarified.

All sorts of worst case scenarios were popping into Patsy's head and no matter what she did, she couldn't stop them from bubbling over the surface. What if she'd broken her neck!? Or her spine or - no, they couldn't move her, not yet. Not until they were sure she wasn't seriously hurt.

"We need something to support her head. Lucille could you grab some cushions? And perhaps a blanket - it's freezing out here," Patsy instructed, feeling much safer behind the façade of Nurse Mount.

Lucille dashed off to the sitting room and returned shortly after with a pile of pillows and a large woollen blanket. Between them, they managed to support the brunette's head with several cushions. As Patsy threw the blanket over Delia's body for warmth, she began to stir.

"Delia?" Patsy asked softly, reaching for a pale left hand.

Delia frowned and let out a little whimper. Her eyelids fluttered open then closed again.

"Delia, squeeze my hand if you can hear me."

The cold hand squeezed back infinitesimally.

"Well done." Patsy encouraged. "It's all right, take your time."

"Will she remember any of this?" Lucille asked Trixie in a hushed tone.

"I doubt she will," Trixie replied. "The seizure patients I've worked with in the past had long blackouts of memory following a tonic clonic."

Patsy wanted them to be quiet, to stop talking in such medical terms around a fellow colleague and friend. But the logical part of her knew it was their way of dealing with the awful situation and she bit her tongue.

Delia's eyes would open for a fraction of a second and then close again. Her mumbles were incoherent but Patsy managed to make out the words "Tired." and "Sleep."

"I know you're sleepy Deels, but you've got to wake up for me, it's very important," Patsy coaxed, giving Delia's hand another squeeze, "You need to keep talking to us."

The brunette returned the squeeze and after a few more minutes opened her eyes a little further before taking a deep breath and trying to assess her surroundings.

"What - " she began and made an attempt to sit up, which proved completely futile. All the movement did was to cause her to groan loudly and clamp her eyes shut again, scrunching them tightly. She flopped back down onto the cushions.

"Delia, are you in pain?" Patsy asked, her heart hammering.

A tiny nod.

Lucille had knelt down beside them. "Where does it hurt precious?"

Delia untangled her left hand from Patsy's and pointed limply at her shoulder before letting her arm drop again.

"Have you got any pain in your back or neck?" Lucille asked gently.

Delia shook her head firmly, as if trying to demonstrate her competence.

"And can you wiggle your toes for me?"

Delia followed the instruction.

"Any pins and needles?"

Another shake of the smaller woman's head.

"In that case, I think we can rule out any neck injuries." Lucille smiled.

Patsy felt almost lightheaded with relief at the news.

Delia was slowly gaining more and more awareness of her surroundings and was beginning to look confused as to why she was on the floor. Her eyes were properly open now and she stared at Patsy questioningly.

"P-Pats..." she stuttered. "Wh- why am I on the floor?"

"You had a seizure and took a tumble down the stairs." Patsy's voice felt foreign, as if it belonged to someone else.

Delia's brow furrowed. "Oh." she said simply.

"How's you head?" enquired Lucille.

Delia tested its integrity by moving it testily from side to side. "Fine."

Patsy examined it, checking for any sensitive spots. If Delia had a concussion this could still be rather serious.

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Three."

"And can you tell me what day it is and where you are?"

"It's Friday and I'm at the bottom of the stairs." Delia replied, her sarcastic sense of humour returning.

Patsy couldn't help but feel a flood of relief at the quip.

"Do you have any other pain apart from your shoulder?" she asked.

Delia shook her head. "No, I think I'm okay."

"Do you think you can stand, if we help you? It's just it's bally cold in here and the sofa will be much more comfortable." Trixie offered.

A nod.

All nurses satisfied their patient was not suffering from any immediately life threatening injuries, Patsy wrapped a strong arm around Delia's waist, the Welshwoman supporting herself with her good arm and together they made their way through to the warmth of the sitting room. As Patsy gently lowered Delia onto the nearest armchair, there was a sharp knock at the front door.

"That should be Dr Turner." Trixie dashed off to answer.

Delia looked up at Patsy, her confusion back. "Why is he here? What happened?"

"You had a fall, remember? Doctor is just popping over to make sure you're alright." Patsy smiled.

"Oh."

There were hushed voices in the hall as Trixie and Lucille filled the Doctor in with the basics of the situation. Meanwhile Patsy knelt beside the armchair, Delia's hand still clutched firmly in her own. She squeezed and Delia squeezed back. The poor woman looked exhausted and pale but a lot more awake and aware.

"Nurse Busby." Dr Turner greeted the small woman gently. "I hear you've taken a bit of a tumble, how are you feeling now?"

"Better... a little tired. And my shoulder really hurts."

"Tiredness following a seizure can be very common. Is it alright if I listen to your chest and examine your shoulder?"

Delia nodded. Trixie ushered Lucille out of the room and followed quietly behind her, feeling it was best to give the Welshwoman some privacy. Patsy however stood her ground, but the Doctor did not seem to mind.

"Nurse Mount, could you help me?"

As gently as she could Patsy undid the buttons on Delia's dress and eased the fabric off her shoulders, allowing it to pool at her waist. The brunette hissed in pain as Patsy released the pressure of her right brassiere strap.

"Can you remember what happened?" he asked cautiously.

Delia shook her head. "Everything went wrong today, I made too many mistakes. Sister Julienne advised I take the rest of the day off, I think I was halfway up the stairs to bed and then…" she tailed off.

The doctor listened intently to Delia's breathing but could not find anything amiss. He then instructed Delia to move her arm this way and that. The results were less than promising and were causing the brunette to turn a paler and paler shade of grey with every motion. It was clear she was resisting the urge to cry out in pain, her body flinching with every little movement. Eventually, Dr Turner laid her arm to rest on her stomach and sat back.

"I think we're looking at an anterior dislocation of the right shoulder." he said grimly. "I suggest we get you to hospital."

Delia shook her head violently, "No."

Patsy and the Doctor exchanged glances.

"I'm not going back there again," Delia's voice wobbled.

Patsy swallowed a lump of emotion that had lodged itself in her throat.. In all honesty she didn't want Delia back there either. Her beautiful girlfriend in a scratchy, ugly patterned hospital robe. Locked away inside a green room where she couldn't see her. It was bringing back terrible, unsettlingly memories, for both women. But then again, what was the alternative?

"Can you set it?" Delia turned to Dr Turner, eyes wide and hopeful.

He cleared his throat. "In theory yes, however I would advise a specialist..."

Delia shook her head, "No. No specialists."

Dr Turner sighed, the gears in his brain turning. "Very well. If you're completely sure, we'll compromise. I will try and reduce your shoulder here. But if I cannot, or if it is too painful, we go to the London. Agreed?"

Delia thought for a moment, her eyes flicking backwards and forwards between Patsy and the Doctor.

"Agreed," she replied, her mouth set in a tight determination.

"Right. I'll pop back to the surgery and get some supplies, Nurse Mount, could you help Delia onto a dining chair. It will make access easier."

Patsy nodded. She felt conflicting emotions and nursing instincts pulling her in all directions. Delia should be seen by a specialist, that much was clear. The nurse in her knew that shoulder dislocations could carry many serious complications if not set right. Personally though, she knew Delia's dogged determination would mean the Welshwoman had the determination to sit through pain without complaint. Even to the detriment of her own health.

"Have you assisted in a joint reduction before?"

"A few times yes, during my stint in male surgical," Patsy took a breath, chancing a quick glance at Delia.

She knew exactly how excruciatingly painful joint reductions could be, having witnessed some of the toughest men on the ward wail like newborns. And that was not counting her own more personal experiences in the internment camps.

"Excellent, I'm going to need your help."

"Of course." Patsy swallowed her own anxieties. Right now, Delia needed her.

They sat in silence together while they waited for the Doctor's return. Delia's eyes were closed and her breathing very shallow. Patsy was stroking her hand, trying to calm her but it wasn't yielding much of a result. Hoping to high heaven the Doctor was going to bring some sort of pain relief with him, Patsy threw caution to the wind for a brief moment and kissed Delia lightly on her damp forehead.

The Welshwoman's eyes snapped open at that and she managed a weak smile.

"I'm sorry Pats- " she began.

"No. I'm sorry." Patsy shook her head.

"We need to talk." Delia whispered.

Patsy nodded. "I know. Not now but, we will. Soon." She wiped the beads of sweat with her handkerchief.

Delia sighed and closed her eyes again. "It's a date."

Patsy's mouth twitched into the faintest hint of a smile.

Delia shivered. "I'm cold." she whispered, her teeth chattering.

"We'll soon get you wrapped up in bed, I promise."

Delayed shock had clearly begun to set in if Delia's shaking was anything to go by. Patsy took in the sight of her poor, battered girlfriend, nearly naked from the waist up. No wonder she was freezing. The redhead placed the blanket from earlier over the brunette's lap to help retain some heat and Delia adjusted slightly in her seat hissing in discomfort as her shoulder shifted.

"Try to sit still, love," Patsy murmured, "Doctor Turner's on his way."

As if on cue, Doctor Turner reappeared bearing a large canister of gas and air. Patsy let out a shaky sigh of relief when she saw him.

"This should help. I've got an extra canister in my car, should we need it, but I think one should do us just fine."

He switched on the machine and held out the mask. Delia took it without a second thought, breathing in deeply. It took a few minutes for the gas and air to take effect, but soon Delia visibly relaxed in her seat, the edge clearly gone from her pain.

"Good job Deels, that's it, keep breathing, nice deep breaths." Patsy encouraged.

Then Delia giggled. She pulled the mouthpiece out for a brief moment, "I'm not giving birth, Pats!"

Patsy snorted at that. "I should hope not."

Doctor Turner's eyebrows raised in question and Patsy smiled. The giggling was infectious. After all, they called it laughing gas for a reason.

Satisfied the gas was working, Doctor Turner rolled up his sleeves, pulled on some disposable gloves and prepared for the procedure.

"Okay, Delia. I am going to tell you exactly what I am going to do, before I do it. And if at any point you want me to stop, just tell me and I'll stop."

Delia giggled and nodded.

He gently prodded Delia's shoulder, locating the top of her humerus. In the light of the kitchen it was easier to see the deformation her right side.

"Right, Patsy, could you sit on Delia's left side please, make sure she's still taking deep breaths and try and keep her steady."

Patsy got into position, taking Delia's left hand in her own, no longer caring about appearances. With her other hand she held the grey mask to Delia's face, allowing her to keep breathing in the gas.

"Delia, I'm going to need you to relax your arm muscles as best you can - everything will go a lot smoother the less you fight it."

Delia nodded once in understanding and gripping Patsy's hand slightly tighter, her eyes closing in anticipation.

"Now I'm going to move your forearm parallel to your legs." He started to slowly move, supporting her limb with his hands.

Delia's eyebrows furrowed but she kept breathing in the gas steadily.

"Good. Well done. Now I'm going to bring your arm out to the side until you start to feel some resistance from the muscles."

The Welshwoman flinched as the doctor slowly completed the manoeuvre.

"Tell me when you feel resistance," he instructed gently.

"Now." she hissed. "Owww..."

Patsy gripped her hand tighter. Delia was looking impossibly pale, her brow furrowed deep with concentration and pain.

"Keep breathing in the gas and air." Patsy encouraged, "You're doing really well."

"Are you all right for me to keep going?" Dr Turner asked.

She nodded, beads of sweat popping off her forehead.

"Okay. Now I'm going to gently pull your arm forward and around. This should ease the joint back into the socket. Remember try and relax your muscles as best you can, I know it's hard."

He rotated her arm slowly. Delia gasped and flinched before taking several large lungfuls of the gas and air. Patsy felt the blood supply to her hand cease as the smaller woman squeezed hard.

"Relax Deels," she coaxed gently.

"Do you want me to stop?" Dr Turner asked.

Delia groaned and shook her head determinedly. "I'm fine. Keep going."

The doctor tried the movement again.

"Agh!" Delia screamed, almost flying off her seat in agony. Patsy reacted instantly, trying to steady her.

Suddenly a satisfying 'pop' echoed throughout the kitchen.

Delia gasped and immediately collapsed sideways onto Patsy. The redhead quickly dropped the gas and air and supported the smaller woman as she panted in relief.

Dr Turner beamed. "Well done."

Delia's forehead rested in the crook of Patsy's neck, her breath tickling Patsy's skin with every exhale. The taller woman stroked Delia's hair gently as her breathing settled, resisting the urge to kiss her.

"Well done, Deels, it's all over," she whispered in her ear.

Eventually, Delia managed to return to a sitting position, propped up heavily by Patsy. Dr Turner performed a few more movements to ensure Delia's shoulder was truly back where it belonged. Seemingly satisfied he removed his gloves and began packing up the gas and air machine.

"You'll need an x-ray just to confirm everything's where it should be. I can book you in for one tomorrow. Don't worry," he added at the worry that flashed over Delia's face, "It'll just be an outpatient appointment, no need to stay anywhere overnight."

"Thank you, doctor." Delia sounded utterly spent.

"I suggest you take some of the painkillers I gave you tonight. I'm sure Nurse Mount will help you into a sling. You know the drill - we need to give your shoulder time to heal, so it's important to rest the joint for the next week or so."

Both women nodded.

The doctor finished packing up his supplies and knelt down to Delia's eye level.

"Now, as for your seizures. I'm not happy leaving you alone, so I recommend for the next 24 hours someone is with you at all times. Just in case you are suffering from delayed concussion, or if there are any more seizures. I'm going to write to your old Neurology consultant and ask if you can get an appointment with him as soon as possible. In the meantime, I do not think you should be working so I'll write you a note."

Delia looked rather crestfallen but agreed.

"Right. If there are any problems or if you have any more seizures, call me."

"Thank you." Delia whispered.

He smiled at her. "Don't forget to look after yourself. I know folk in our profession sometimes forget that."

After helping Delia into a sling Patsy got her settled into bed. The poor woman looked exhausted, her skin had a grey tinge and there were very dark circles around her eyes. Ensuring she had taken the painkillers, Patsy sat by her bedside and kissed her forehead gently.

"You gave us all quite the scare today." she whispered.

"I'm sorry." Delia croaked.

"It's okay. The main thing is you're alright," Patsy breathed.

Delia nodded, the energy sapping from her with each passing second.

"Now get some rest." Patsy stoked her forehead, her eyes watering.

The brunette's eyes fluttered closed.

Patsy sat with her a while, just staring at Delia's peaceful face as she slept soundly.

The gravity of what had happened that day finally began to sink in. Slowly Patsy's walls cracked and tears began to make fast tracks silently down her cheeks. She'd stayed strong up until this point because she'd had no choice. Delia had needed her. But now satisfied her girlfriend was safe again everything was bubbling over. Not wanting to wake her, Patsy called Lucille and asked if she could take the next watch over Delia while she took a break. Lucille agreed and the two silently switched places.

She felt at a loss as to where to go. For some reason she found herself walking towards the chapel. Patsy never put much stock in prayer and god. Having watched several people in the camps pray for hours on end just to meet their deaths, prayer seemed futile and rather a waste of time. Besides, if god did exist, why had he allowed for such monstrosities to happen? And yet Patsy understood why people sought solace in prayer. When you had nobody to turn to, nothing else to hold on to, the idea that talking to a higher being that had the power save you was rather tempting.

The chapel pews were uncomfortable. Delia had told her once that was because they didn't want anybody falling asleep during sermons. She smiled. Oh Delia. They were both going through so much and there was no easy out. No quick prayer that could solve everything. The journey ahead was going to be long and difficult, she knew that.

Patsy sat in silence until the sun was setting, its low light casting through the stain glass windows. It was calming to sit in solitude. Many times in the camps she had sought out a hiding spot away from everyone, away from the guards, her fellow detainees and the screams of the hospital tent. She'd sit, close her eyes and imagine a wide open field, the summer breeze flowing through her hair, barefoot on a grassy meadow, the sound of dozy bees buzzing in the distance. It was a place she could disappear to and find some ounce of happiness. And it was here she found herself now. Except this time she wasn't alone. Delia was there. They were lying on the grass, staring up at the sky, watching the clouds pass lazily. Hands intertwined and completely relaxed.

Although she did not believe in it, this is what heaven was to her.

So lost in her own fantasy, she didn't hear the door to the chapel creak open. A figure shuffled into the room and took a seat beside her.

Patsy sensed someone was there and opened her eyes. Sister Monica-Joan was eyeing her intently.

"Pray child, what has made you take solace in our kingdom of Christ?" she asked.

"I just needed some quiet." she said truthfully.

"You look as though your body is present but your mind is in a far off land."

Patsy smiled. The old nun may be lacking in eyesight, but she was still incredibly observant.

"One often hears disappearing into oneself is apparently a sign of madness, however, I believe my imagination to be a monastery and I am its monk."

"We're not mad, Sister." Patsy assured.

"I am not passed my capacity for understand but my mind has been most discontented and restless... it has been one that was put into a body too small for it." Sister Monica-Joan stared at the altar. "I used to fear what he had in store for me, but now I have learned I must choose between despair and Energy, and I chose the latter."

The two women sat in each other's company for a while, enjoying the silence and solitude together.

Sister Monica Joan was right - it was all too easy to get lost within one's own despairs. And the energy spent in doing so was much better put to more constructive things, such as fixing the roots of the problems that were the cause of those despairs. What Trixie had said before about asking for help - Patsy was fearful of accepting she needed it, that much was obvious. But all said and done she did need help. She had no idea what kind of help she need though. What she did know was she was surrounded by people who were willing to help her and that was something she had been lacking her entire life up until this point. Perhaps now was the right time after all.

Importantly, she knew she was not alone.

Patsy crawled upstairs later that evening, utterly spent. Delia was still fast asleep, being watched over by Valerie.

Valerie simply smiled kindly at Patsy when she entered their shared room to collect her pyjamas.

"I can leave if you want." she whispered. "Give you some privacy."

Patsy shook her head. She knew Delia had to be under constant observation and right now she was minutes away from falling asleep herself.

"You're welcome to take your old bed for tonight." Val offered. "I'll keep an eye on her, you deserve some rest."

Patsy felt a rush of gratitude towards Valerie. It did everything to affirm her previous thoughts - they were all with her, they always had been.

It was such an unusual sensation to wrap her head around, she thought as she tucked herself into her old bed. Especially having spent her whole life on edge, suspicious of almost everyone. Delia had broken down some of those walls, but she'd only ever allowed her in. And even then, Delia still did not know everything. There were some secrets that nobody alive knew.

She punched the pillow into a more agreeable shape and stared over at Trixie's empty bed. A pang of guilt hit her. She'd been so focused in her own woes, she not supported Trixie's relapse. Not as a best friend should have at any rate. No, this had to end - whatever 'this' was. Patsy rolled over.

Change had to come.