The psychiatrists are helping Lucy to piece together who she is. Her will is strong but, at night when she sleeps, I am there, the Cuckoo in someone else’s nest.
I am Anna and I am waiting.
The Cuckoo – Part 2
For the first few days after the operation, they kept Lucy heavily sedated, gradually weaning her off the drugs as the swelling in her brain decreased, delighted to see the transplant controlling her heart and lungs straightaway. Sarah and Richard were at her bedside every day, celebrating every milestone with her, the elation when she opened her eyes and said Mum and Dad palpable, only matched, a few months later, by the cheers of Jess and the team filling the hospital when Mr Davies told her she could go home. Her recovery was rapid and remarkable considering what she had been through, sitting, eating, speaking and finally walking ticked off the list in quick succession, and Mr Davies put this down to her being a performance athlete, in peak health. The part of her brain that had not been touched appeared to be functioning as it should, her personality and behaviours unchanged and her memories returning daily. Mr Davies would continue to monitor her regularly for years to come, you can’t get rid of me that easily he’d told her with a grin, but for now, his thoughts were consumed with publishing his work, confident of numerous medals and awards to come, recognising the momentous achievement of him and his team.
“I’m going back to Uni in September whether you like it or not,” Lucy yells at her mother across the breakfast bar, a purple berry and banana post-run smoothie half drunk in front of her, “I need to get back to normal. Back to lectures, training and the team”.
Sarah breathes deeply, trying to remain calm. Before the operation, they hardly ever argued, but things have changed, and this same argument has been simmering for the last few weeks. Sarah knows she’s slowly losing the battle, but she isn’t going to give in without a fight, it’s her job to keep her daughter safe after all.
“It’s too soon,” she replies, “you’ve only been out of the hospital for a few months. You need to take it easy. You need time to recover, and I don’t think you should be running so often”.
“I have recovered”, Lucy says rolling her eyes, “and you know my physio told me to run as often as I feel I want to. The medics don’t have any objections to me going back so, why do you? Anyway, I’ll be closer to them there than here. I can’t stand it here, you’re smothering me. I can’t breathe in this house without you counting the breaths”.
“Don’t exaggerate Lucy, I worry about you. I don’t want you to have a relapse. You were so ill. I thought I’d lost you for goodness’ sake”.
“That’s the point though Mum,” Lucy says softening slightly, “I WAS ill, and you DIDN’T lose me. All my tests are normal now, I have recovered, and I don’t need to be wrapped up in cotton wool anymore. You’re treating me like I’m a little kid and I’m not anymore. I’m an adult and I need to be allowed to live my life as I choose”.
“OK, OK, if you insist on this fool’s errand, let’s go back, I’ll rent a house for us in Nottingham so I can be on hand to keep an eye on you and your Dad can join us at weekends”.
“You haven’t heard me at all, have you?” Lucy shouts, her voice at a fever pitch, “I am going back to Nottingham ON MY OWN”.
Lucy touches the back of her head, her fingers tracing the rough scars of the stitches through her short-cropped hair. Way to go, Luce, don’t let that bitch try to control you, don’t ever let anyone control you, the voice in her head whoops.
“What’s wrong darling?” Sarah asks panicking.
“NOTHING is wrong with me, the problem is you,” Lucy shouts as she storms up to her room, slamming the kitchen door behind her.
Her thoughts race as she throws herself on her bed, I need to get back to Nottingham the agency needs me back, my clients need me, and I need them.
Lucy is haunted by her dreams. They were just fleeting images of people and places at first, but as the months have passed, images have been replaced by increasingly more detailed, more involved, more graphic videos. It’s as if she is looking at a piece of fiction, a movie playing in her head. None of the things she sees are familiar to her and they scare her, she’s afraid to fall asleep. The psychiatrist isn’t unduly worried. It’s normal, she says. While the brain is building connections with the transplant it is bound to get some things wrong, but with time, things will sort themselves out. She just has to be patient.
The psychiatrists are helping Lucy to piece together who she is. Her will is strong but, at night when she sleeps, I am there, the Cuckoo in someone else’s nest.
I am Anna and I am waiting.
The Cuckoo – Part 2
For the first few days after the operation, they kept Lucy heavily sedated, gradually weaning her off the drugs as the swelling in her brain decreased, delighted to see the transplant controlling her heart and lungs straightaway. Sarah and Richard were at her bedside every day, celebrating every milestone with her, the elation when she opened her eyes and said Mum and Dad palpable, only matched, a few months later, by the cheers of Jess and the team filling the hospital when Mr Davies told her she could go home. Her recovery was rapid and remarkable considering what she had been through, sitting, eating, speaking and finally walking ticked off the list in quick succession, and Mr Davies put this down to her being a performance athlete, in peak health. The part of her brain that had not been touched appeared to be functioning as it should, her personality and behaviours unchanged and her memories returning daily. Mr Davies would continue to monitor her regularly for years to come, you can’t get rid of me that easily he’d told her with a grin, but for now, his thoughts were consumed with publishing his work, confident of numerous medals and awards to come, recognising the momentous achievement of him and his team.
“I’m going back to Uni in September whether you like it or not,” Lucy yells at her mother across the breakfast bar, a purple berry and banana post-run smoothie half drunk in front of her, “I need to get back to normal. Back to lectures, training and the team”.
Sarah breathes deeply, trying to remain calm. Before the operation, they hardly ever argued, but things have changed, and this same argument has been simmering for the last few weeks. Sarah knows she’s slowly losing the battle, but she isn’t going to give in without a fight, it’s her job to keep her daughter safe after all.
“It’s too soon,” she replies, “you’ve only been out of the hospital for a few months. You need to take it easy. You need time to recover, and I don’t think you should be running so often”.
“I have recovered”, Lucy says rolling her eyes, “and you know my physio told me to run as often as I feel I want to. The medics don’t have any objections to me going back so, why do you? Anyway, I’ll be closer to them there than here. I can’t stand it here, you’re smothering me. I can’t breathe in this house without you counting the breaths”.
“Don’t exaggerate Lucy, I worry about you. I don’t want you to have a relapse. You were so ill. I thought I’d lost you for goodness’ sake”.
“That’s the point though Mum,” Lucy says softening slightly, “I WAS ill, and you DIDN’T lose me. All my tests are normal now, I have recovered, and I don’t need to be wrapped up in cotton wool anymore. You’re treating me like I’m a little kid and I’m not anymore. I’m an adult and I need to be allowed to live my life as I choose”.
“OK, OK, if you insist on this fool’s errand, let’s go back, I’ll rent a house for us in Nottingham so I can be on hand to keep an eye on you and your Dad can join us at weekends”.
“You haven’t heard me at all, have you?” Lucy shouts, her voice at a fever pitch, “I am going back to Nottingham ON MY OWN”.
Lucy touches the back of her head, her fingers tracing the rough scars of the stitches through her short-cropped hair. Way to go, Luce, don’t let that bitch try to control you, don’t ever let anyone control you, the voice in her head whoops.
“What’s wrong darling?” Sarah asks panicking.
“NOTHING is wrong with me, the problem is you,” Lucy shouts as she storms up to her room, slamming the kitchen door behind her.
Her thoughts race as she throws herself on her bed, I need to get back to Nottingham the agency needs me back, my clients need me, and I need them.
Lucy is haunted by her dreams. They were just fleeting images of people and places at first, but as the months have passed, images have been replaced by increasingly more detailed, more involved, more graphic videos. It’s as if she is looking at a piece of fiction, a movie playing in her head. None of the things she sees are familiar to her and they scare her, she’s afraid to fall asleep. The psychiatrist isn’t unduly worried. It’s normal, she says. While the brain is building connections with the transplant it is bound to get some things wrong, but with time, things will sort themselves out. She just has to be patient.
Be First to Comment