Chapter Thirty-Three

Another chapter at last- and a bit longer than usual! I'm tending to now update this as I write, rather than being a few chapters ahead. I'm always happy to include any ideas, suggestions or improvements- and love any feedback! I do really enjoy writing, but life is very busy. Thank you for reading.

'He's asleep. Exhausted.' Cal said, shutting the car door as quietly as possible, then leaning against it in defeat.

'We'll be following you, then.' Dixie said. She patted Cal's shoulder. 'You were very calm, mate. Can't have been easy.'

'No. I was worried he was about to have a seizure. He's not been that upset for a while. He did remember our car, though. I think he was getting to his limit and gave in.'

Dixie stared through the window at Ethan, who was sound asleep. It was the morning of his departure to Bridgeworth, the rehabilitation facility he'd been placed at in Menai, North Wales. The plan had been for him to go in the ambulance, but he'd been completely terrified at the sight of it, babbling incoherently and trying to get out of his wheelchair and run. He'd fainted very briefly, coming back to before Cal had even lowered him to the floor, but it was far too much stress to try again. Cal had brought the car round, and managed to coax Ethan in, using the patchwork quilt as leverage. It had worked, thank goodness. It was going to be a long journey to North Wales.

'Hopefully he'll just sleep through the journey.' Dixie said, softly. 'We'll keep as close as we can- sirens if we have to- just flash us if you need us and we'll stop and give you a hand. You've all got mine and Iain's numbers, right?'

'Yeah. Thanks, Dix. We'll be fine, it's just getting on the road. He's not been in a car in months. Maybe the motion'll be good for him.' Cal waved Dylan over and explained the situation. Dylan sighed.

'I'll go in the back with him. I know you were planning on filling the last forms in en route, you'll have to dictate it to me and I'll scribe. Is Connie coming soon?'

'Should be. She's got to go for a quick meeting with Grace's school.'

'See, this is why the dog's great. They don't give actionable feedback for her at doggy daycare. She either behaves or doesn't, and either way, I'm not responsible once she goes through the door. Dogs typically don't respond to verbal feedback.'

'Sounds like someone I know.' Cal glanced through the window. 'Four hours without traffic. Reckon we should wake him up for the toilet now?'

'No. We can stop fairly easily, and he's not completely incontinent. He went just before. The last thing we need is Ethan getting that worked up again.'

Connie arrived, slightly out of breath. 'Load of rubbish,' she complained. 'She's not had her calculator for four lessons in a row. Why don't they just call? I gave them a talking to. Idiots. She's old enough to remember it. If she needs it that much, stick her in detention and lend her one. What am I supposed to do? Pack her school bag? It costs enough to send her there, they should be handing out bloody gold calculators.' She stopped long enough to spot Ethan asleep through the car window. 'Forgive me, Dr Knight, that's not a standard NHS ambulance to my knowledge.'

'I don't think anyone's going to get him into one.' Dylan replied, firmly. 'We're going to be late if we don't get going.'

'Is he strapped in properly?' Connie asked. Cal's heart sank.

'No.'

Ethan was so worn out from earlier events that he stayed sleeping soundly as Cal strapped him in. 'Thank God.'

They got in and started to head out of Holby. 'It's just stupidly far. It's another country.' Cal said, although he knew there was nothing he could do now.

'What typically distresses him?' Dylan asked, scanning the paperwork. 'I've put being alone, unfamiliar settings.'

'Exactly.'

Dylan ignored that comment.

'Some photosensitivity, although I think it's subconcious. When they were changing the bulbs at the pool he was much happier. Loud noises.'

'Therapy, in pretty much all forms.' Cal said, wryly. 'And ambulances, apparently.'

The journey was a long one, not helped by the two vehicles needing to stay in fairly close proximity to each other. Cal pulled over about two hours in, parking as close as he could to the entrance of the service station and getting everything ready before waking Ethan up.

Connie was leaning against the car door, speaking with Dixie. She could overhear Cal coaxing his brother to wake up. 'Yep. Somewhere new. Go inside, toilet, back here. Thirsty?'

Dixie nodded behind her. 'He's really bloody stepped up, hasn't he?'

'Absolutely. I mean, there was never any doubt that either of them would have done anything for the other before, but I never thought Cal would be this good with him.' Connie sighed. 'I don't think Ethan's the only one who won't cope well with the separation, if you know what I mean.'

'Exactly. I mean, they've lost their mum and they're both still young. You'd think that they'd have done more. North Wales, I mean?'

'They say they take patient and family view into account for the rehab setting, but that's laughable in this case, isn't it? He gets so upset about change, and he's suddenly shifted to hours away. Cal's going to try and get up there whenever he can but he's running low anyway. I think we all are.'

Dixie put a sympathetic hand on Connie's shoulder. 'You look it, love. Have you got any time off coming up?'

Connie nodded, surprised that Dixie's touch had suddenly made her feel weepy. 'I do. Grace wants a few days away during half-term. I feel guilty enough being a working mum, and then I'm needed at the hospital more than ever.'

'Well, I'm not needed much at home. The dog likes a drive. If it'll be a hand to you, I can do my share of visits, as long as it won't be more of a stress than a comfort. I don't mind a drive either, so you can read the map or have a kip on the way.'

'Thanks, Dixie.' Connie cleared her throat. 'Hopefully it won't be too long and he'll be home. Then there'll be a whole lot more shifting rotas around, but at least it'll be local.'

'There we are,' Dixie gave Connie's shoulder a final squeeze, then looked over the car roof. Cal and Ethan were going inside. 'I'll go and give a hand. Want anything?'

He'd been sleeping soundly since shortly after they'd set off again, to everyone's relief. 'Might be easier if he's tired when he arrives, though.' Dylan mused. 'If he's wired all evening it'll be a rough night.'

'There's a café about a quarter of an hour away from Bridgeworth. Do you think we should wait for an hour or so after we leave him before starting back? Just in case. He's had seizures before when he's been very upset.' Cal said, drumming his fingers on the wheel. He'd developed a habit of constantly glancing in the mirror at Ethan.

'No.' Dylan said, flatly. 'You know that. Feedback loop. And I'll drive back. You look shattered and I'm worried about your concentration after.'

'They're experts, remember?' Connie went with a more gentle approach. 'And there's a hospital with an ED twenty minutes away. We've been through this all.'

Cal said nothing, but suddenly looked very hard at the road ahead.

Ethan woke up, sensing that something wasn't quite right. He'd found the movement of the car very relaxing, and had slept for the whole journey. He stretched, needing a good few seconds to place where he was. In a car. Where, though?

'North Wales. Rehab.' He said, out loud. His imminent transition had been the focus for therapy in the days before.

'Good job. Ready to go in and see?'

He nodded. He waited for Cal- he'd not needed to practice transitioning into his chair from a car before, so was reliant on his brother for that part. He looked up at the building. He'd been shown lots of photos. It was a great lump of a thing in sandy coloured stone, a far cry from Holby's modern exterior. This looked more like a rejected setting from Downton Abbey.

The wheelchair crunched over the gravel. The sky was dark grey, promising rain soon. 'This is a quiet place.' Ethan said, thinking out loud again. He couldn't hear any traffic or people moving. Even his quiet had had sounds for a while.

'I think you'll like the views.' Connie said. She picked up the second suitcase and shut the boot. Iain and Dixie were climbing out.

'We won't come in, but we're here now. Traffic's about to hit peak, so there's no point trying to get on the road right now. If you need anything, you've got your phones.' Dixie said. 'Best of luck, Dr Hardy.'

Ethan nodded at her. The wind on his face felt unfamiliar.

'Ethan Hardy, here as a new inpatient.' Cal said, rootling through his rucksack for the paperwork.

'Yes, absolutely. He'll be mainly under Dr Shepherd, I'll get her down now. In the meantime, if you want to drop his bags off, I can get someone to show you the room. Mia? He'll be in 14. It's first floor, but there's a lift.'

There are stairs. They'll be wanting you to use them when you can walk properly. Ethan thought, his stomach twitching uncomfortably. He tilted his head back, looking up to the ceiling and the space above that the stairs filled.

'I'll go. You wait here with Ethan,' Dylan said. He shouldered the holdall bag and set off, dragging the suitcase behind him. Ethan hadn't been particularly interested in taking anything. He'd got the quilt, the jumper of Caleb's he liked, and the odd book that was engaging enough without confusing him. He didn't seem particularly interested in any of his get-well-soon cards or even any photos of Cal. His clothing, consisting of mainly loose tops and tracksuit bottoms, was a far cry from what he'd worn before.

The room was clean, he noted, and it wasn't dreadful. A sort of mix between one of those Scandinavian prison rooms and a standard hospital room. There was an adjoining bathroom, thankfully, and a desk near the window. Two chairs, a strange piece of furniture to store clothing in, a stark looking bedside lamp, and a generic seafront canvas on one wall.

He opened the window. Should he unpack? Part of it felt too intrusive, putting away Dr Hardy's clothing and books, but then again, he'd packed part of it away in the first place and provided quite significant and often quite intimate care for Ethan over the past few weeks. Closer to months, now.

Connie, Caleb and Ethan were in a small office, talking to Dr Shepherd, who would be primarily responsible for Ethan's progress during his time at Bridgeworth. Despite their apprehension, Cal and Connie couldn't help liking her quickly. She was pragmatic but kind, and seemed to have actually read through the files that Neuro had sent over prior to meeting them, which was a bonus. She didn't dismiss their concerns immediately, either, Cal noted.

'Usually we're fairly tight on visiting hours,' she said, 'but I do know how it is when you're NHS. If you give us a heads up, as long as he isn't missing huge chunks of sessions, then we should be able to fit you in. I'll let reception know and they can pop a note on the system. You'll want to stick your reg into the carpark machine too, it won't charge you if I give you the code.'

'Thanks,' Cal said, a little gruffly. 'These… sessions. What's it going to sort of… look like… you know, a day in here for Ethan?'

'Right. So, we do try to give patients a good level of input in their routine, but that might be a little while off. Depending on his sleep patterns, too. Usually, patients are awake and have breakfast then help as needed with any intimate care, dressing, personal care before 9, which is when we start of therapy sessions. There'll be rest in between, as well.'

Ethan wasn't listening, the focus of his attention solely focused on the wallpaper pattern.

'Eth?' Cal whispered, putting his hand on his to get his attention back.

'Hmm?'

'Do you want to see if you can listen? This is what'll happen tomorrow, when you're awake?

Ethan didn't particularly want to listen, he knew he'd only forget, and felt confident that nobody, for fairly good reason, relied on him for information or timing anymore. But something about Cal's expression told him, and he didn't know why, that he should say that he did care, and behave accordingly.

'Yes. Tomorrow.'

'So, once you're up and ready, you'll have an hour of occupational therapy. I'm pleased with the handover notes I've had from Holby, then you'll have physio, which might be hydrotherapy on some days. After that, it'll be lunchtime, which is with our other residents in the dining room.'

Dr Shepherd had come round to stoop next to Ethan, and had some sort of laminated board with her, moving and sticking down small cards next to clocks. As she mentioned, "lunch", she placed a small knife and fork symbol.

'After lunch, you're down for speech therapy. That'll be about thirty minutes. Our afternoons focus on patient led activities. There's also individual and group talking therapy sessions each afternoon.'

'Puzzle.'

'Yes. Puzzles are part of our day room activities. Do you like them?'

Ethan stared at the little laminated patch. The thought of shifting the pieces, remembering the picture, matching them, finding the right one, slotting it in, and re-doing it upteen times was dizzying. 'Did.'