June 2012
He could not remember when he first noticed her or indeed what it was that drew his attention. She was on an old fashioned bicycle and considering the possible age of the old black contraption she rode freely and fast. Her titian red hair flowed out from under her helmet; it glistened in the autumn sun and appeared to sparkle. Today she wore what appeared to be the most appalling old fashioned tank top with a white blouse underneath and a pair of brown corduroy trousers. The top was a colour mixture of oranges, reds and greens giving the impression of rust and moss. The young woman approximately in her early thirties could almost have blended into the autumn woodland scene they were now passing. The impression given was of mother earth, of Gaia. She pedalled furiously and stayed well ahead of him and as he turned into the hospital he saw her race across the traffic lights and down St. James Road.
Ian placed his bicycle into the cycle rack and, locking it carefully, he took off his helmet and walked to the lifts. The woman's image stayed with him as he ascended towards his office. He realised that he had seen her on many a day, she must work reasonably closely as their timings seemed to regularly coincide. The impression of the sparkling hair stayed with him as he stepped out of the lift and walked into his office on the third floor of the hospital. Janet his secretary greeted him, she appeared to many as a dour scot but she greeted him warmly as he entered in. Janet stubbornly protected him from the tumultuous amount of paperwork, statistics and hospital admin that threatened to drown them both. Janet loved her boss: his piercing blue eyes and his stocky rugby player physic. She smiled and wondered at his slightly eccentric style of dress and today yet again his socks did not match. Happily they had worked together for over four years. She followed him into his office with his early morning cup of coffee in one hand and in her other the schedule of operations for today.
Ian loved his job, whilst it had taken many years to qualify first as a doctor then a surgeon and finally to specialising in brain and head traumas, it had been well worth the journey. The obsessive attention to detail, the scrupulous cleanliness and the total engrossment demanded from the tasks all suited his personality. He had meaningful contact with all of his patients and tried to travel alongside them down the rocky road, hopefully to a full but, at times, at least a partial recovery. The rise in patients being referred to him with brain tumours etc. had grown rapidly; he felt early diagnosis contributed to this. His colleagues and staff believed it was due to Ian's expertise. His bedside manner and consultation style reassured many faced with life threatening situations.
He drank his coffee and went down to the ward to talk to his first patient scheduled for surgery. This was a routine operation and required the removal of a growth behind the child's left ear that had attached itself to the side of the skull. A biopsy had been carried out and the growth was benign. But it would continue to grow and therefore needed to be removed. He briefly spoke to the parents to endeavour to allay their anxieties, he advised them that surgery would take approximately one hour and he would next see them in the recovery room. The operation passed without a hitch and Ian returned to his office just in time to receive a text and he agreed to meet his friend, a cardiologist, for lunch in the restaurant upstairs.
The titian coloured goddess, or Laura as she was named, left her office at the bottom of St. James Street and walked out into the autumnal sun. What a glorious day she thought and decided to walk to the woods and eat her sandwiches there. As she strolled along she passed by a cyclist who had stopped to replace the chain on his bike. Laura thought what an idiot he looked - he had worn no crash helmet and was trying to repair his bike on the side of the busy road. The screeching of brakes made her turn and she could see that a lorry on turning the corner had seen the cyclist far too late. The driver did all he could and swerved across the road to miss him and he succeeded just by a whisker. Unfortunately a car coming the other way, in trying to miss both lorry and cyclist, hit Laura. She felt a thud in her back and flew into the air, crashed through the trees and fell tumbling to the ground. Everything went black.
Laura could hear voices, voices that she felt sure that she did not know. The jumbled words were failing to make sense and she tried to stem the rising panic as she realised she could not move. She opened her eyes; everything was blurring and was fuzzy round the edges. She caught a glimpse and thought that must be the sky and a tree. She felt herself drift backwards and forwards, in and out of consciousness. The voice became even more insistent 'Stay with me dear, stay with me.' but she could not help herself and she floated away skywards. How beautiful the world was from up here and she watched as they slowly and carefully put her body in the ambulance.
A sense of peace overwhelmed her as she asked herself, was she dying? Suddenly she was sitting on the roof of the ambulance as it raced to the hospital - it sort of felt okay, calm and tranquil. Her physical body was now being removed from the ambulance and being taken into the hospital. An almost invisible silken and gold thread drew her with it; she queried where had that come from and when it had appeared. There was no stepping down or floating from the ambulance, it was like magic, serene and peaceful; the thread joined both body and soul together and away they went. Nursing staff were rushing around and she could sense the pandemonium, it all seemed very chaotic. The silken and gold thread was tight around her, but no one noticed, could they not see that she was safe and happy up here. Her tank top and blouse were cut through the middle and dropped to the floor, her hair, all matted and tangled with blood, was consigned to a hat.
Needles and drips were inserted and she felt herself floating above, following the trolley into the operating theatre. She had always been squeamish even as a toddler, so she looked around at where she was. The staff were dressed in soft pale blue gowns, white masks and wellie boots on their feet. The room was large and white with many stainless steel lights shining brightly. Her body was now being connected to various computers and electrical equipment; she could do nothing and watched patiently as they appeared to probe, cut, stitch, and sew.
Laura did not like this theatre at all, panic started to rise again as she saw a tunnel open out and there was a beautiful brilliant light shinning at the end. Time to explore, she felt, as the thread pushed her swiftly towards it. The light gave her an overwhelming sense of peace and love. The silver and gold thread was all around her body and safely guided and held her as she moved forwards. She could see shapes and shadows all appearing to be surrounded by a golden aura, a radiance and brilliance that filled her with a sense of calm and love. Laura laughed to herself as she saw a tiny four year old girl riding a tricycle and realised that was her. She had so much fun on that bike with the little metal carrier on the back, she used to put her dolls and pet rabbit in there and take them around the garden. There was a sudden wrench and, as Laura watched, the silver thread disappeared from her body and only the gold remained to anchor her. She felt herself catapulted back to the theatre. She knew she did not want to go back into her body; she was safe and happy where she was.
Ian had been paged halfway through his lunch. A young woman had been hit by a car, tossed through the air and her head had hit a tree and then the ground. Her other injuries were appearing less serious: a broken leg and a few cracked ribs together with some internal bleeding; she also appeared to have a problem within her brain and was bleeding out of one ear. As he walked through A and E he noticed the tank top being swept up from the floor and could not think why he recognised such a tatty top.
Sitting on top of the old pelmet rail tucked in the corner, Laura watched as another surgeon entered the room. He was scrubbed up and ready to do something, but what? Were there not enough operating staff and nurses here already? Laura could not hear any words, only a soft rolling babbling noise as water flowing down over a stony brook. Ian set up a portable scanner and, as he watched them remove her surgical cap, he noticed the mass of tangled titian coloured hair, now caked with blood. He suddenly realised this was his beautiful female cyclist from the mornings, his Gaia.
Ian took command and advised them to shave off her hair. The noise of a saw, in the hands of the young man, startled her and suddenly she was drawn back into her body; as she returned her body jerked on the operating table. Ian called for more anaesthetic and the anaesthetist increased the morphine flowing through the drip. Laura again drifted backwards and forwards out of her body, the gold thread staying with her. She felt disappointed every time she returned to her body, Laura saw down the tunnel people were waiting for her - why could she not go? It was calling her in and this time the pull from the golden thread carried her further.
Laura felt ecstatic and saw her life as if the finale of the Generation Game was passing beneath her. Her old dog suddenly appeared on the conveyor belt, followed by Snowy the rabbit, her dad's tank top and her mum's old bicycle. Her college certificate and her Nan and granddad on their porch were sat there waving to her. Laura had no choice, she floated onwards. She could see her hated school uniform; the straw boater that was her summer uniform could not be hidden on the way to or from school. The girls from the secondary modern had always targeted her, until one day she snapped. The bus conductor had to separate them, but at least she came away with a handful of hair. They did not go near her after that. Maybe her parents would be waiting for her; how she missed them. She laughed and sang to herself as her life and memories floated past her.
The young surgeon had worked quickly and with a thoroughness that was admirable; a few times the staff had advised that they were going to lose her. Ian fought on, he sealed off all the bleeds to the brain and just as he was about to close up he noticed a tiny cluster of spots on the edge of the frontal lobe. He cut deeper and worked fast; this patient had already lost a lot of blood and suffered such trauma. He removed the cluster and sent it for a biopsy and at last his junior surgeon could take over and finish putting this patient back together. Ian was exhausted, the surgery had lasted three hours the patients pulse was faint but steady. She would be transferred to intensive care. With the sudden movement of the trolley and the swish of the doors Laura felt herself being jerked back into her body. As she watched, the golden thread disappeared and Laura, with a sense of disappointment, sunk back into her body; life was to carry on. A glimpse of her future had been very preciously granted.