SCOTLAND ZEN and the art of SOCIAL WORK
Chapter 29
Still Monday 2nd June
If genetic counselling is sought by Catholic families it has to be remembered that there is a dichotomy between the rules of the Catholic Church on contraception and to the intention of families who have the defective HD gene not to have children by natural means and therefore not pass it on to the next generation.
We decided that we would get a taxi to the social work office, collect Tommy’s car and then I would go with him to his Mothers flat to help him pack a bag for her. He planned to drive me home then and return to the hospital on his own. Before we had left the hospital I had called Kate to tell her what was happening and that I would be home soon.
‘What’s happening now, is she going to be alright?’ She asked.
‘No, I don’t think so, poor soul, she might not last the night by the look of her,’ I replied.
‘In that case why don’t I phone Phillip and tell him I’ll stay here tonight in case you change your plans. The kids are all in bed asleep anyway.’
‘You’re a star Kate, go get settled down in my virginal bed and don’t be having Phillip over to tuck you in my sheets would go into shock.’ She laughs and says that they are so nervous about having the twins that there is no chance of them having sex right now and probably not for the next year or two as they won’t have time.
On the journey Tommy is silent and distant and I haven’t a clue what to say to make him feel any better. Words are our enemy. We get to the flat and Tommy unlocks the security door then the front door of his Mothers ground floor flat. I follow him into the kitchen and he fills the kettle and switches it on. I thought this kitchen routine act of making tea would calm him, but when he opened the fridge he stood very still for a few moments then bowed his head and started to sob very quietly. I am confused till I see that his Mother has prepared his dinner and put it in the fridge. She must have done it this morning. There were potatoes and carrots peeled in a bowl of water, some chicken legs marinating in another dish and two slices of chocolate cake wrapped in cling film. Tommy is completely overcome at the evidence of her love and concern for him. She must have prepared the food then took the rubbish out and ended up in hospital. I close the fridge and sit him down at the kitchen table. I hand him a big wad of kitchen roll, make two cups of tea, and ask him if we can be more comfortable in the living room.
We sit on the couch in the living room, finish the tea and Tommy is now dozing with his head on my shoulder, worn out with his sadness. I have a chance to look around at a very neat room, simply furnished and comfortable. The couch and carpets are cream and the curtains are cream and rose, all spotless, obviously a grubby child has not been within a mile of this house. Everything has a bright sunny look even in the electric light. I think the table and sideboard are polished with real polish not just dusted over, similar to Mam’s domestic touch. There are books and magazines piled neatly on a table at the side of an armchair, and a sewing box close by, on the floor. This is probably where Tommy’s Mum spends her evenings reading or sewing. There is an old fashioned television that my children would laugh at with real buttons and no remote control. I’m not sure what to do, I could go home but then I would feel guilty leaving Tommy on his own. I could go back to the hospital but might feel I was intruding on his trouble. I’ll let him decide. Tommy wakes with a start and seems much calmer, he yawns hugely and says,
‘Can you help me pack the things for my mum? Then I can drive you home, you’re bound to be knackered.’ He leads me into the bedroom and we start to open drawers and the wardrobe looking for what she might need. I feel embarrassed rummaging in her underwear drawer so I tell Tommy to go to the bathroom for toothpaste, soap, shampoo and anything he can think of. I fill a holdall with two nightdresses and a beautiful lilac dressing gown, hoping like mad that she gets a chance to wear them. Tommy comes back with a bulging toilet bag and the job is done.
‘Come upstairs with me to my flat, I need to change my clothes and shave, and you may as well experience the contrast in styles.’
He quickly ran up the stairs with me trailing behind him. He had a sense of urgency now as if he had to keep moving. His flat was exactly the same layout as downstairs, but they were miles different. His flat was untidy, very untidy. There were clothes and shoes and books all about the place, a bicycle in the hallway and a bike helmet on top of the television. The kitchen wasn’t too bad, there were some dirty coffee cups and spoons in the sink but the bedroom looked as if it had exploded.
‘Go ahead, laugh if you like, obviously I wasn’t expecting company, and my Mum’s not allowed a key or she would feel obliged to bring some order in here.’
While he got cleaned up I had a look in the fridge, it was clean, thank God, I can’t stand a dirty fridge, but it was almost empty, just emergency stuff, two bottles of beer, orange juice, a pizza some yogurts and milk. It’s obvious he is fed by his Mother most nights. Tommy came rushing out of the bathroom and went to the bedroom to take off his work clothes and emerged a few minutes later wearing a clean pair of jeans, white socks and a pale blue rugby shirt which someone had ironed beautifully. He looked delicious and smelled of toothpaste. I could have thrown myself at his body but I remembered his Mother lying in her lonely hospital bed and calmed down. He was searching on the floor and eventually found a pair of shoes and put them on. He must have seen something in my face because he walked over to me and kissed me so suddenly I thought my teeth were going to be cracked. He held me close and I felt a bit sick with longing for him but, once again it wasn’t the right time, although probably the right place. We parted reluctantly,
‘Mags I don’t know how to ask you…’
‘Just ask me,’ I said, knowing he didn’t want me to go home.
‘Can you come back to the hospital with me?’
‘I already asked Kate to sleep over at my house, no worries.’ He almost collapsed with relief and I realised that he was nowhere near ready to be on his own. We ran downstairs, collected the bag, locked up and were back in Airdrie in half an hour. As we walked up to the doors of the hospital Tommy stopped me and said,
‘You’re probably going to see me at my worst and my weakest. I love my mother and I don’t want her to die. I could rip off my face with grief, but I will have a better chance of not cracking up if you’re with me.’
‘This must be the worst time in your life, but don’t worry about me I’ll just be here.’
We had to go in the casualty doors as it was after ten now. Mags looked all round her and she seemed fascinated by the night life of the hospital. There were the usual waifs and strays, anxious parent and drunks who gravitate to hospitals at night. When we arrived at my mothers room Molly was sitting at the bed talking quietly. There was no movement from the bed. As I walked closer I saw that my Mother had been turned on her side and a large pad had been placed on her pillow under her chin to catch the blood trickling out of the side of her mouth. I felt my head spinning and sat down smartly on the foot of the bed,
‘What’s happened,’ I whispered.
‘Oh, I’m so glad you’re back, I’ve been telling you mother you went away home for a wee while. Dr. Ali has been in again, he’s given her some more pain relief.
‘Does he never sleep,’ said Tommy.
‘Well he’s getting married next week and will be off on honeymoon for a few days, so he is doing some extra shifts.’ Mags jumped to attention at that, she says she knows the bride’s family and John is in the same class as the doctor’s nephew. What a small world.
The nurse motioned us to follow her out of the room. Mags had hardly made it into the room and she was back outside again.
‘You’re mum’s been awake and lucid a few times but her bleed has not stopped and is draining out as you can see.’ I looked into her very kind eyes and saw a tremendous sadness there and with certainty I knew that my mother was dying, drip by drip.
‘We can look after her and make sure she’s not in any pain, but if you want to stay with her now keep
talking to her, she can certainly hear you and she will be so pleased you’re there. I gathered my wits and my courage and we went back into the room.