Recovering

This is my contribution to the SUMMER LOVIN' STORY CONTEST 2016.

It's the first time I've written under time pressure -- I hope it doesn't show too much...

*************

It was kind of a relief. The feeling you get when your parents finally leave you at the beginning of the youth-camp. The moment you had been waiting for, nervous, but also excited -- free at last. Only this time, it weren't my parents but my daughter and her husband who drove away, leaving me and my grandson -- their child -- behind. They had brought us here, helped putting up the tent, and after a last drink they went home again, to get ready for their safari-holiday.

Terry had truly been looking forward to this holiday. Of course, I knew we were 'cool', but still, it was a great relief that he didn't mind sharing a tent with an old man, while his parents went watching the Big Five. I couldn't understand it, but was determined to make the best of it -- I owed him.

Collin's parents had also offered to take Terry with them to the Spanish Riviera, but that was obviously only a matter of formality. They were just not comfortable having a ten-year old around them, and the prospect of being trapped on a yacht was most likely an absolute nightmare to Terry.

As soon as the car drove away, Terry turned around. "I'm off to the swimming pool!"

I nodded, too late to put my hand on his back. He didn't need my support. "I'll find a chair on the terrace."

***

Terry had found some other children to play with in the pool, while I had claimed a chair, out of the sun, to watch with coffee and my crosswords. There was a pool watch -- a slightly chubby woman, probably nearing her retirement -- so there was no real need to keep an eye on him, but I liked being around, as long as he let me. And, that way, I could spoil him every now and then, like grandparents were supposed to do -- being on holiday finally gave me that opportunity.

***

As soon as the maternity leave was over, Terry had been passed to us. Collin's parents had never been an option -- it didn't fit with their 'social life' -- and Nancy was at home anyway, so it was only logical. Don't get me wrong -- Nancy loved it. When Debby was born, we didn't even talk about it -- Nancy gave up her job to be a full-time mom, and loved every single second of it. And I guess with Terry it was the same, if not stronger; it once more gave purpose to her life. And for me, it was like a second chance. Looking back, I had felt like I had missed some opportunities being a father for Debby, and with Terry I could do it all over again. However, having the day-to-day care did not allow you to spoil him like you would do when you'd only see him once in a while.

Only when the cancer had become too demanding -- long after my hints had turned beyond subtle, almost becoming insulting -- only then did they let Terry go to daycare. But less than three months after the funeral, the daycare was stopped again. Daycare was a terrible waste of money, and for me it was good to have something on my mind -- all day at home after my early retirement, alone, without Nancy, would certainly make me languish in misery and self-pity; Terry would be a good distraction.

They had been right. Terry's presence had ensured that I kept everything together -- the loss of his beloved grandmother had been hard enough, and he shouldn't be faced with a grandfather lost in grief, so I kept my head up high, learned how to cook, and moved forward.

***

"Can I have an ice-cream?"

"Sure. Maybe you want to invite your friends too?"

"Great! Thank you! You also want some?"

No, thank you...

***

They had been right -- without Terry, I would have been lost.

The first blow came when the factory had been bought up; the place where I had spent a lifetime. I had always enjoyed working there; I had been appreciated, but all of a sudden I had become redundant. I had to be appreciative with the offer of an early retirement, even though the financial consequences put an end to our dreams of traveling the world at our old age. Nancy had taken it without complaining -- she straightened her back and guided me through the first months of emptiness -- uselessness. She made me do things. Sent me away with Terry, made me perform small tasks in the house -- she gave me purpose, but also taught me to look after myself. As if she knew already ...

Then, the verdict of the doctor, explaining where the discomfort came from. Ovary cancer, spread through her body, settled in other body parts -- certainly in the abdomen, the bowels, and possibly even further.

I could see the pain -- I knew her too well. Buying the wig; losing her hair -- several times; fighting to eat, to take the medicines; independence slipping away... The need to be strong for the outer world... I wonder if it would have been easier if she hadn't fought that hard to keep her head up -- if she had been angry, sad, blaming me, the doctors, god and everything else. But she was strong, and therefore I had to be strong too...

The doctors had done whatever they could, and it all looked promising. There had been more tumors than expected, including some particularly nasty ones on the intestines. While the doctors had not been able to remove all tumors, chemo should give them the final blow, or at least keep them under control. Nancy came out of narcosis and, although tired and feeling awful, promised never to give up. But then the temperature rose, body functions stopped, and despite a quick intervention -- a quick decision not to await the testing results but to go for immediate surgery -- the failure of the stiches, resulting in leakage of her intestines, turned out to be fatal.

If only they had let my die with her, that night...

***

The shouting not only alerted me but also the pool watch, who moved to the side. But it was nothing; an overenthusiastic kid. I sat back again. The watch came my way and asked if I'd mind her joining me for a moment. From here, the view was just as well as from where she had been, and not much was going on anyway.

I offered her a drink, but she had brought a bottle of water -- she was fine.

One of the children Terry was playing with was her grandchild -- the son of her daughter. Her daughter and husband owned the camping, and she helped wherever she was needed. As a former swimming teacher, she preferred to be at the pool, but when necessary, she also worked at the reception, the kiosk, and even every now and then in the restaurant.

I listened patiently -- my silence didn't scare her away, and it was unlikely that she would leave me soon, so I put the crossword book down on the table. As if encouraged by that action, she started enquiring.

"What's your grandson's name -- he is your grandson, right?"

"Oh yes, he is -- He is the son of my daughter; his name is Terry. And I'm Pete, by the way."

"And I'm Brenda." We shook hands. "That boy in the pool is George, the one over there is Lucas -- yeah, their father is a Star Wars fan -- my daughter, who you've probably met before at the reception, is Rose, and her husband is Ben. He normally walks around and makes sure all goes well."

I nodded.

"And where do you come from?"

I told her. She knew the place -- a few weeks ago, they had some other guests from there. No, I didn't know them.

"And your wife? Is she here as well?"

"No, she passed away last winter. It's just Terry and I."

"Cancer?"

I nodded.

"Terrible disease. Terrible!" She shook her head, but then her attention was drawn by a woman, waiving to her. "Ho, that's my daughter. The boss is calling -- I gotta go... See you around!"

Fortunately, she didn't come back later. I mean, she was nice, don't get me wrong, but she was invading my personal space far more than I was comfortable with...

***

The next day, we went to town. There was a market, cover bands and games, we had dinner in a steakhouse, and came back almost at bedtime. However, by that time, Terry started to feel unwell; nauseous and bellyache.

The shop was already closed, and I hadn't brought any painkillers myself -- I never needed them. I promised to ask at the reception if he didn't feel any better within an hour. We had taken several snacks on the market, so my first guess was a food poisoning. Perhaps the problem was solved after throwing it all out, and a few hours of sleep.

It didn't get better, and at 22.30, I found myself at the reception, explaining the situation to Rose, Brenda's daughter. They did have some children's aspirin, and told me I should contact them if it didn't get any better in the morning -- they would get us to a doctor.

Overnight, things only got worse. Terry was burning hot; writhing in pain. Assuming that the doctors probably started their work at 8, I entered the reception just before, and explained the situation once more to the girl at the desk. I also told her I'd been talking with Rose the night before, and her promise to arrange a doctor. She made a call, and after quite some time, told me the doctor was expecting us at ten.

The bus didn't seem to be an option. "Could you arrange a taxi at that time?"

"Do you have a driving license?"

I shook my head. After a nearly fatal accident, forty years ago, I'd never driven a car again.

"If you give me your field number, I'll have a car coming your way right in time."

Field number, field number... what was the field number. Desperately, I looked at her, and she wavered it away. "Park, right? Your name is Mister Park? We'll have a car ready for you around half past nine."

***

I heard a car coming just after nine. I was still washing Terry inside the tent --walking to the central washing area would be too much of a task for him; unnecessary painful and humiliating -- and I called the driver to wait for just a second. I would be right there. The zip was pulled up, and without any warning, Brenda walked in.

I was angry -- how about some privacy -- but Terry was in no condition to start arguing. Brenda ignored my angry looks, and silently checked Terry. She looked worried -- it seemed like several times she was about to say something, but just shook her head instead. Then she helped me dressing Terry. And, to be honest, she seemed to have far better skills than me. Not surprising. But still, I didn't like it -- a stranger handling my kid, without even awaiting my approval.

It took twenty minutes to get to the doctor's practice -- we were far too early. While Brenda went to the reception, I guided Terry to the waiting room. Hey laid his head on my lap, and we waited.

Not sure if it was Brenda's doing, but we only had to wait a few minutes before we were guided to the doctor. He asked Terry several questions, to describe the pain, and the area where it came from. Then he asked me about what Terry had been eating and if he had experienced such pains before.

"I am not sure, but this might be appendicitis. I would certainly want him to see a specialist to check it out. While you go to the hospital, I will contact the attending doctor -- better safe than sorry!"

I looked at Brenda; she only said, "I know the way!" and drove us once more through town.

This time we had to wait a little longer. Terry was whining a little -- nothing like him -- and shivering. There was no doubt he was ill. I felt terrible, just sitting there; nothing I could do except stroking his hair and telling him it would be ok. Was it something I could have prevented?

"Shouldn't you inform his parents?"

"I can't -- they probably don't have a phone with them, so there is no way of calling. We do have contact by email, but I didn't bring my tablet with me; I don't know their email address. And then, we don't know anything yet, and what can they do. Let's first wait for the diagnosis."

Finally, we were called. The same questions: 'where is the pain, describe the pain, what did you eat', listening to his stomach, a finger pushed in a very uncomfortable area -- no wonder he was screaming... -- and then blood and pee samples.

More waiting, and then finally the verdict -- indeed, most likely appendicitis. Surgery was required; immediately...! As he hadn't eaten since last evening, and barely drunk either, there was no reason for delay. We were all dazed -- overwhelmed by the speed of decisions, but perhaps that made it only easier. There was no time to worry too much -- to think it over.

It was surprisingly quick that we were called and Terry was prepared for surgery. Fortunately, I was allowed to help him undress and be there when they put him to sleep. My mind was empty when they drove the bed away...

All the while, Brenda was still there. And I had to admit, I was happy for that. I even allowed her to wrap her arm around me, and pull me tight. "He will be ok. This surgery is very common -- it's just routine." I silently nodded.

I was totally unaware of time and things happening around me. I was only focused on the door, from where I expected the doctor, telling me everything was all right. Numerous times, that door opened and closed without someone coming to me. I was vaguely aware of Brenda stroking my back, but I didn't react. Terry...

And finally, someone came to me.

"And?!"

"Don't worry. He is ok. Could you please come with me?"

I was first taken to a small room, where it was explained what they had found and what they had done. I hardly registered anything, only picked up that, despite our quick reaction, the infection had been slightly more complicated, requiring extra care. It was expected to take five to seven days of hospitalization, and then some extra time of recovery at home. But he was fine -- everything had gone well!

Last time they'd told me all went well, was with Nancy... I must have looked like a fool to them -- shaking and stammering, after receiving such good news...

I was allowed to be with him, while he slowly woke up from his narcosis. Watched him, when his body came carefully alive again. He softly cried, still fuzzy from the anesthesia, too tired to lift a limp. I shushed, stroked his hair, whispered everything was fine -- the surgery done -- and soon he would feel better.

When he was fully awake, they drove him to a shared room at the children's ward, and Brenda was also allowed to see him. I was in awe with her ease to talk with him -- how she got him comfortable. That truly is a woman-thing, I guess; something Nancy also excelled at...

All too soon, we had to leave -- it was time to rest, and Brenda and I left the room.

"I don't get it," Brenda said, when we walked the long corridor. "Not a word about his parents -- how can he not miss them at this moment?"

I shrugged. "Modern parents... Working fifty hours a week or more, and rather spend their free time without him. They are on safari, watching lions -- a children's dream -- while leaving him behind with an old man..."

"Are you angry about it?"

"No, not angry; disappointed. And he's a good kid -- not like he deserves this..."

"Let's have something to eat, and then we'll get your stuff. I think you should get your tablet, so at least you can inform his parents about this, and perhaps get some clothes."

I only registered her talking about the tablet, and numbly followed her to the restaurant. At the end, I didn't even know what I had been eating.

***

She drove me to the tent, where I thanked her for her help -- by now, I would manage; I could take the bus back, so she could get back to her job. But she resisted. "They'll manage here -- all holiday workers will be happy; with me out of the way, they will get their chance to sit at the pool."

I crawled into the tent, hoping my stiffness didn't show too obvious. Last sleepless night hadn't made me feel any younger...

"Perhaps you should also bring some clothes with you? And does Terry also have a tablet or something to play with; perhaps something to read? Any cuddly toys?"

I had to admit, she was right -- at least she was thinking straight -- but it annoyed me that I needed her to tell me what to do. As if I needed her to look after me...

There was Wi-Fi at the reception, and I quickly sent an email to Debby and Collin, informing them about the surgery and that everything was fine. Once in the hospital, I would send them another, longer message, including the phone number of the hospital, so they could at least call Terry. I kept it short, because I didn't want to leave Terry alone any longer than necessary.

***

Once at the hospital, I told Brenda once more I would be fine -- she could go -- but she simply ignored me. It made me feel uncomfortable; what did she expect to do there? Like she could help or anything -- we didn't even know her.

Terry was still very tired, but happy to get his tablet. They even had Wi-Fi in his room, and soon Terry was absorbed in his game of Minecraft, while I wrote a second, more detailed email to his parents. No reaction from them yet. Not that I'd expected anything already -- they probably hadn't had a chance to check their mail yet -- but nevertheless, it hurt a little.

We were only allowed to stay for a sort time -- then it was dinner time in the hospital, and we were supposed to leave. In the evening, there was another, short opportunity to visit.

I invited Brenda for the hospital restaurant, but she insisted to go out. We weren't allowed to get back within two hours, and it would be good for me to get away for a moment. So she took me to a small Italian restaurant, where I picked my spaghetti while Brenda told about the time her daughter Rose was in hospital for her appendicitis. Rose was, at that time, only three years old, and in her memory she had had a relatively straight-forward operation, but still had to stay for more than a week in the hospital, driving the nurses crazy being restless and begging for biscuits and candy. With Debby, I only remembered the removal of her tonsils, which took, if I'm correct, only a few hours. And then lots of ice cream...

Already after half an hour, I started looking at my watch, and Brenda knew better than to ask for desert... Once back in the hospital, I wasn't the only one, waiting impatiently until visitors were allowed -- several people were pacing in front of the doors, waiting for them to open.

Terry was happy to see me again. He was tired, and it seemed like his anesthesia was working out -- he started complaining about various discomforts; the nurse kept an eye on him. I made sure they paid attention to his complaining, and once more they assured me everything went as expected. To me, already he seemed better than earlier that day, although that might, of course, have been wishful thinking... He asked about when he was allowed to go home and was very upset when I told him it would probably take a week before he could leave the hospital -- how about his holiday!

Although disappointed that I was leaving, Terry didn't become too upset when visiting time was over. He wasn't very focused about anything; it gave him a hard time bringing up names when I asked him which magazines I should bring for him next day. He was probably too tired to mind anything at all, and otherwise the nurses promised to give him some sleeping pills. They would call me if needed.

And then I was outside...

The thought of going back to the camping, sleeping on a thin mattress in the tent, was awful.

Brenda was still there, waiting for me. She asked if I wanted to go somewhere for a drink, but I rejected. I just wanted to go.

However, instead of going back to the camping, she drove to the village nearby and stopped in front of a small, old terrace house. Her house, she explained, when I looked at her, quizzically.

"I can't stay with you! Please bring me back to the camping!"

"After a day like this? Sleeping on an air mattress? I don't think so! You're not afraid of me, are you? I've got a decent guestroom, so you don't have to worry about that!"