‘Without insurance, Mr Curtis will still be entitled to basic medical care but no extra treatments or tests and of course repatriation won’t be covered…’
Her words hit me with force.
Repatriation won’t be covered.
I couldn’t fly Adam home.
My skin was covered in goosebumps. I was still sitting on the bed. Still clutching the receiver tightly in my hand. It now whirred with the disconnect tone and I put it back on its cradle.
What am I going to do?
After the conversation with Dr Acevedo and the bleak picture he had painted, I was desperate to be in a UK hospital, but without insurance how could I get Adam back to NHS care? It must cost thousands, hundreds of thousands perhaps, to fly a coma patient home with all the medical equipment and at least one nurse.
What am I going to do?
Everything was wrong and I couldn’t fix it. I wished my dad were still around. He’d get us home somehow. Surely the government could help? Other people must have been in a similar position before. But how long might that take?
Too long.
Fleetingly I thought of Ross. He was well paid as a head teacher and didn’t have a family to support. He likely had the money, but would he help?
Could I ask him?
Exhausted, I stumbled into the shower. Wanting to feel warm. To feel clean. To scrub off the hospital smell and put on fresh clothes. My clothes.
While I lathered my hair, I thought again of Ross. Would it be fair to him, knowing the way he felt about me, to turn to him? Would it be fair on Adam to accept help from a man I had kissed?
In my mind I turned over possibilities until the water ran cold. I stepped out of the shower into a fluffy white towel.
Perching on the edge of the bed, I picked up the phone once more and made a call.
As soon as it connected, I garbled, ‘It’s me. I need you.’
Chapter Thirty
Anna
After making the phone call, I had rushed back to the hospital with renewed energy. I wasn’t alone. Help was coming. I had read to Adam from Of Mice and Men, which I was currently teaching to my class, skipping the sad bit with the dog. Adam would hate that. Now, it was late. Outside in the corridor the lights had dimmed. Eventually I dozed.
The sand was warm beneath my feet.
Adam shielded his eyes as he stared up at the sky; I followed his finger to see what he was pointing at. A parrot flapping his red and green wings soared beneath the sun. ‘If you love someone, set them free,’ Adam said.
I woke up drenched in sweat and tried to force the whispers of the dream from my mind.
I won’t give up on you, Adam, I won’t.
But would he give up on me when he came round? How would he feel when he learned I had lost our baby? His baby. Would he blame me the way I was blaming myself? Would he, after his near-death experience, realize life is too short to spend another five years trying? Leave me for somebody who could effortlessly conceive? I had thought we were going from a two to a three. The thought I might remain forever a one was heartbreaking. I placed my palms gently over my middle. I never got to meet the life that had been growing inside of me but it didn’t stop me missing them. My stomach rose and fell with every breath and I imagined it was my baby moving under my hands.
Eventually, I must have drifted back into sleep because the next thing I was aware of was a clearing of the throat. ‘Dr Acevedo. Is everything—’
‘It’s okay.’ He picked up on the fear in my voice. ‘Have you been here all night? You should go home. Get some rest.’
But home was nearly three thousand miles away and rest was the last thing I felt like. I rubbed the back of my neck, digging my fingertips hard into knotted muscle. The doctor made his checks and told me nothing had changed. I could tell by his tone he thought this was bad but I was grateful things weren’t worse.
Minutes after he had left the room, the door swung open again.
‘Mrs Curtis?’ The man hovering in the doorway had pale skin and green eyes that peered at me from behind round, rimmed spectacles. He also had a comforting British accent. His beard was speckled with grey and I’d have guessed that he was in his forties. I didn’t think that I had met him before, but there had been so many people passing through Adam’s room I had lost track.
‘Yes.’ A ripple passed through me. A knowing that my life was about to change once more.
‘I’m Dr Chapman. Oliver. Can we talk?’
‘Yes.’
He glanced at the nurse. ‘Shall we go somewhere? The cafeteria?’
‘I don’t want to leave Adam.’
‘I think it would be best if we were somewhere private.’
There was something about him I trusted. Perhaps he reminded me of England. I kissed Adam and told him I would be back soon and followed Oliver out of the room before spinning around and rushing back to Adam’s side. I fished my grandad’s coin out of my purse and left it on Adam’s bedside table. If he woke, he would know I had been thinking of him.
We walked in silence. The smell of bacon drifted down the corridor to greet us and I felt a hot, fierce longing for home. For Sunday brunches in our local coffee shop, mopping up beans with thick white bread. Steaming cappuccinos in paper cups and slabs of carrot cake with cream cheese icing carefully packed in a box to take home. I was overcome with a feeling of light-headedness. I steadied myself against the wall as Oliver looked at me with concern.
‘Let’s sit.’ He guided me to a table. I shook my head when he passed me the menu. I didn’t have the wherewithal to read. ‘You must eat.’ ‘Anything will do.’ Food had lost its taste. Rather than questioning me further, he nodded and strode over to the counter, returning minutes later with scrambled eggs on toast and a mug of tea.
He waited until I had finished eating, laid down my knife and fork and pushed my plate away before he spoke.
‘Mrs Curtis.’ He removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.
‘It’s Anna.’
‘Anna.’ Again, a few seconds of silence. ‘I’m so sorry about your husband—’
‘Adam.’ I wanted to make him real, not a number or a surname. A person.
‘I understand Dr Acevedo has talked to you about Adam’s prognosis—’
‘I don’t… understand.’ I was trying to be strong but nevertheless my eyes filled with tears. ‘There must be a way to wake Adam up?’ I plucked a serviette from the table and wiped my cheeks.
‘I’m so sorry but there isn’t. I’m from the Chapman Institute for Brain Science.’ He slipped his glasses back on, hooking the arms behind his ears. ‘We’re a research centre based at the north of the island. A collaboration of scientists, engineers, mathematicians and physicists. We explore the most challenging scientific questions.’
‘Right.’ I twisted the serviette in my fingers, not sure how this was relevant to me.
‘We’re intent on unravelling the secrets of the brain.’ He leaned forward, his eyes shining. ‘I’m confident that over time we can improve treatments for neurodegenerative diseases like Alzheimer’s, and brain disorders such as autism and schizophrenia.’
‘How?’
‘Various means. We have advanced technology, the best equipment at our fingertips. We know the human brain has at least 133 different types of cells and each cell has a distinct function. They work together to give sensory input, motor function and ultimately consciousness. By studying subjects—’