the magic fork

The magic fork

As I rose, I thought of my dad. He would laugh and laugh with that gap of his showing only when he was at his most gleeful. I loved that gap in his teeth. I didn't see it often, and I wasn't going to see it right now. He saw it every time he looked in the mirror.

I couldn't stand up against the guy I really looked up to. My mum used to be there all the time, and all she got from me was cheek. She'd respond in despair, which would wind me up even more. I suppose I behaved that way because I didn't respect her. I don't know why and the thought of that child makes me ashamed now. Don't get me wrong. I wasn't a bad child. I just viewed her in a bad way, and I didn't grow up enough to re-evaluate our relationship.

It happened last week. Fell downstairs in a fluke that just doesn't appear in novels, but happens every day to some poor unfortunate. Dad rang me to tell me she had fallen and the back of her head was covered in blood. The Doctors were there fast and she was somewhere in the hospital. He was worried. They promised to speak to him in an hour. I told him I'd be there, and I was.

The doctor was a nice guy. A and E demanded people with compassion and he had it in buckets. No bullshit sales talk or other nonsense we put up with on most days. He sat us down and told us that she had a massive impact at the back of the head which had resulted in a heavy bleed on the brain. She was being cared for and they would be operating in the next hour. He told us he thought she would be alright, but he had done this after having a phone conversation where I had heard the words "heavy bleed on the left. You missed the bleed on the right", "she may make it, she may not". I didn't tell Dad.

I'd held her hand every day and talked to her like they do in the movies. Not much happened, and each night I went home and got up the next day to do the same. I would have carried on like that for as long as I could, and I mean that, because it was killing me inside, but I couldn't cry; Just couldn't. believe me I tried, but the act of trying was very trying and it left me feeling like some kind of sick android. Dad cried, and he got all the sympathy. I just held the coats.

The consultant talked to us on two separate occasions. She told us the same thing each time. The first time I got angry. It was like an insult. We went home and discussed just how wrong it all was. My partner, Lorraine, had read something on the internet about how people got better when they had given up all hope. Me and Lorraine argued about it when I got home.

The second time it sank in. There was no choice. She would not get better and even if she did wake up, she would have no quality of life. The bleed on the brain was massive and they had tried their best. I spoke to dad and then spoke for dad. It was for the best, they would withdraw treatment. They would remove the breathing apparatus and she would die. They would do it at midnight and, if she died quickly then she could donate her organs. I couldn't be there, but I had to. It was truly horrible.

I stood over her as the deed was done. I saw her face until I did not recognise it as hers. Everything went cloudy and I felt faint. The next thing I saw was mum , dad and Lorraine together, crying. The bed felt cold. I tried to say goodbye.