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“I’ve been planning this for a while. There’s someone I want you to meet.” Lee pulls me towards the back of the large lorry, and that’s when I see the doors are open, and a couple of young lads are unloading chairs. Lots of wooden chairs that they are passing around for everyone to sit on.
Lee walks towards one of the guys, who is just a little shorter than Lee, making him probably around five foot six. His longish brown hair has waves that make him look like he’s got a messy mop on his head, but at the same time, it really suits him. As soon as we approach, he stops what he’s doing and looks down to where our hands are connected, before he turns his gaze onto me. He looks me up and down, assessing me, before giving me a big, cheesy smile that lights up his forest green eyes.
“You must be Emmaleigh?” he asks, holding out his hand for me to shake.
I nod and take hold of his hand, shaking it with a smile. “I am, and you are?”
He turns his steely gaze to Lee, his brow furrowing into a frown. “I’m offended that she doesn’t know who I am. How have you never told her about your life long best friend?” His voice raises in mock disgust, and it’s clear he’s messing with Lee. As soon as he says that, I know exactly who he is.
“You’re Craig,” I reply, hoping that will save Lee.
Craig turns his attention back to me, and I go to drop my arm when I realise we’re still doing that awkward handshake thing. Lee just chuckles as he watches our uncomfortable interaction.
“I am,” Craig confirms, nodding his head.
Thankfully, Lee decides to step in and save our conversation. “Craig’s family own an event planning agency. One part of that is that they hire out chairs ready for weddings. Craig’s family heard about your strike, and they wanted to do something to support you, and this was the best we could think of.”
I shake my head in disbelief at the charity and support of strangers. I’m just about to thank him when Craig speaks. “It’s the least we could do. We also got in touch with one of the companies we work with, and a catering company will be arriving in about an hour, and they will be supplying free lunch for anyone on the picket line. We don’t want anyone starving while they’re fighting for what’s right.”
My eyes start to well up, and I’m literally overcome with the kindness of others. Reluctantly, I let go of Lee’s hand and I pull Craig in for a hug. He lets out a startled yelp that sounds very feminine, and I can’t help but chuckle. “Sorry, I’m a hugger,” I explain and Craig starts to chuckle.
“It’s nice to meet you, Em. You’re as awesome as I expected you to be.” Even though his words are aimed at me, he’s giving Lee a pointed stare, like they’re having a silent conversation they don’t want me to be part of. And it’s actually kind of cute. I quite like having this insight into Lee’s life that I’ve never had before.
I let them have their moment, and Lee seems to end the silent conversation with a shake of his head, to which Craig simply rolls his eyes and turns back towards the van when Lee casts his gaze back over to me. “Better let them get set up. Want to make sure the chairs and tables are all set up for when the food comes.”
I shake my head in disbelief once more, before clasping my fingers back through Lee’s. We’ve held hands before, but this is in front of our friends and my work colleagues. He moves his gaze down to where our hands meet, and I expect him to pull away, but he doesn’t. Instead he looks up at me with a sad look on his face. “Em, I’m sorry about the way things have been this last couple of weeks.”
“Hey, you don’t need to apologise. I was the one who ruined things. You asked for a break, and I gave you one. You are entitled to that,” I explain, cutting him off before we have to dive further into this. I know we probably have a fucking bucket load of issues we need to address, but all of that can wait. I’m having a cloud nine moment right now, and I don’t for even one second want that to be ruined.
“I do, and I know now isn’t the time for us to talk. When you are free this week, I’d like to maybe take you out for dinner and have that chat, if you’d like? But for now, I want you to know that I have missed you and I’m sorry I wasn't here for this sooner. I had it all planned, but I just assumed you would have told me when it was happening, not on the day. But I know that’s my fault because I asked for space.”
My cheeks scrunch as I try not to grimace. He’s right, I have been deliberately not telling him about my shit, but mostly because I want him to have his space. I want him to have me in his life but not really. I wanted to make him miss what we had before. To make him realise he misses me.
Before I get the chance to say any more, my work phone starts to ring, and one of my colleagues, Kayla, announces she thinks one of the patients on the ward is about to code. I spring into action. I know most people wouldn’t act until it’s actually happening, but I trust the instincts of the nurses I work with. We have watched patients deteriorate rapidly, and we know exactly when a patient is going to code—have their heart stop beating.
I call for Kym to come with me, as she’s the nurse next due to do a shift on the ward, and we both set off running as fast as we can. My legs ache and my lungs burn, and I’m reminded very quickly that I’m not fit. In fact, I’m in fucking agony, and we aren’t even close to the ward yet. I could have sworn I wasn’t this unfit usually. But the more I push myself, the more the pressure in my head seems to intensify. I try my best to ignore the headache and just concentrate.
I realise after a few minutes, Kym was speaking to me, but I couldn’t hear any actual words over the ringing in my ears. But as we get into the lift, and I can stand still for a second to catch my breath, I apologise and ask her to repeat herself. She’s basically asking for a plan, which I can answer easily. I need her to keep the ward running, whilst I help Kayla, the nurse currently working on the ward, and if the patient does code, I will run the resuscitation until the team gets here. Kym agrees with my plan, and I’m grateful I don’t have someone with me that bitches and moans when they get given a task.
With Kym, she follows instructions really well. But more than that, if she ever were to voice a different opinion, I would listen to her. She qualified a couple of years after me, but she’s worked on Sunflower ward since she graduated, so she knows the place just as well as I do.
As soon as we get onto the ward, Kayla shouts out for our help, and the patient begins to deteriorate rapidly. I ask for a quick handover, which Kayla gives, as the Health Care Assistant on shift, Lesley, begins chest compressions. I shout for Kym to call the resuscitation team, and when she lets me know she already has, relief washes over me.
As I listen to the handover, trying to formulate a plan of action in my mind, I think about how I’m going to keep this patient alive until the senior team gets here and takes over. I have to push aside the way my body is hurting right now. I mean, I know I have a bit of fat on my bones, but I’ve never seen myself as super unfit. Yet, that short run has knackered my body completely.
My legs ache, there’s pins and needles in my feet, as well as in my left hand. I keep having to blink repeatedly to chase off the deteriorating vision, thanks to the spots that keep appearing. Obviously the pressure at the back of my eye is making my vision blur, and as soon as I rest and get rid of the migraine, it will all right itself. But this doesn’t feel like a normal response to running just that short way. I’ve had to run the full length of the hospital before, when I’ve been in a meeting at one side, and then I’m needed back on the ward. I don’t remember ever having these types of symptoms when I ran back then.
I have to force myself not to focus on the way I feel, and instead just concentrate on keeping the patient alive. Once Kayla has finished her handover, I start firing out instructions to the team. Another nurse who was working the other side of the ward has come to help along with her assistant, giving us just enough people to get all the jobs done. I’m very aware that it leaves only Kym out there on her own, with no proper handover of tasks that need doing, but I know she will be able to handle it. The resus team will be here any minute, so we just need to hold on.
Around an hour later I manage to get back to the picket line, breathing a sigh of relief that we managed to get the patient back, and they’ve been moved to the intensive care unit, where they will get one-to-one, higher level care. Just as I arrive back, I see the catering van has pulled up, and people are queuing to get their food. The tables and chairs are all set up, banners hanging from all the tables, and everyone who enters the hospital sees the sign on Craig’s van, they all beep their horn in support.
We’ve been blown away by the amount of people who have come to sit with us. Patients who have been discharged, some that are just visiting, and others that have come just to support us after seeing about the strike on social media. We’ve even had a few patients who we discharged a while ago come back to show us their support.
One lady I looked after for almost four weeks after she had surgery, and we only discharged her home last week. When I first saw her I was worried she was ill again. Her prognosis isn’t good—grade four bowel cancer that has already spread to her brain, liver, and lungs. She doesn’t have long left at all, but since she’s not even fifty yet, and has three children, she’s been fighting.
I grew close with her, visiting her every day I was at work, even if I wasn’t the nurse caring for her. I could see what cancer was doing to her body, and I knew that no matter how hard she fights, she can’t beat this. All she’s doing is giving herself more pain and suffering, but I know she’s not ready to give up yet. She just wants a little more time. So while she’s fighting, we will too. I knew she’d be back on the ward, needing more care, I just hoped it wouldn’t be this soon.
Though as I make my way over to her, she’s quick to tell me she’s not here for medical reasons. She dragged herself out, even on a day when her pain levels are through the roof, and she came to support the nurses who have been fighting for her.
