Zak
He’d done something to his wrist, well – not him but the lads who’d given him a kicking had. And it still wasn’t right. He’d waited a few weeks but if he tried to lift anything it gave way. The pain made it harder to sleep at night. There was a drop-in clinic near the precinct so he left Bess at the house one morning and went there. Early October and drizzle like fog that caught in his throat. Made his cough worse.
The nurse asked him to move it this way and that, pressed it and pinched it, told him he needed an X-ray, he should go to A &E. Zak said he would but could she strap it up for now or give him something for the pain? She put on an elasticated bandage and told him to try paracetamol – no more than eight in twenty-four hours. She said again he really needed an X-ray. It could be broken.
He didn’t bother with A &E, decided it could wait a while longer, might sort itself out. He wore the bandage though, he thought it might help when he was trying to raise some cash, make people more sympathetic. Didn’t work out like that: for all those that felt sorry for him there were another crowd who thought he’d been fighting. Like homeless and drunk and violent were all the same thing.
He did end up in A &E. Collapsed on Corporation Street with pneumonia and pleurisy. He was coughing and fighting for breath, his chest sucking, a stabbing pain behind his shoulder blade and his skin on fire, but he wouldn’t go in the ambulance without Bess.
They argued the toss with him, one of the paramedics going on about hygiene and risks and procedures. The other persuaded Zak to let him call a friend (Midge) who could take Bess to the PDSA, explain the situation. Zak didn’t like it but it was the best offer he was gonna get. They left Bess with a CSO who’d wait for Midge, and had the PDSA address.
It was all a bit hazy at the hospital, he kept nodding off like he was stoned but he hadn’t taken anything. He had one of those blue blankets with holes in, he liked the feel of that, and the way they were all treated the same, all the patients. Might have been bankers or beggars, it didn’t make no odds. They were all in pain, all needed help.
They took his blood and gave him loads of X-rays and told him he’d be in overnight at least and a doctor would see him in the morning. They rigged him up to an oxygen cylinder with a little gadget to put in his nose and started him on tablets.
There were three others in his ward room, two old fellas who slept a lot and a young bloke who only appeared for meals and at bedtime, pushing a drip. One of the nursing assistants told Zak the man had a thing going with a woman he’d met on admission. Kept nipping off to see her.