Why am I still here?

Isn't it amazing how sometimes one incident can force you into a situation of questioning whether you are in the right place and have made the correct choices? One unexpected occurrence can shake you into looking at things from a perspective that you've been avoiding for years. Take last Monday... Little haggis and myself were having a fairly leisurely day. I had begun cutting fabric to make her a new top and she was playing with her Lego, when all in a sudden I started to feel very unwell. Pain was gripping me around my chest and ribs, radiating out to my back. I was sweating, shaking and feeling very nauseous. So I lay down for a little while, hoping it would just pass. After about half an hour, the pain was still lingering, but the nausea had subsided, so I decided I was feeling well enough to prepare our dinner. As one who suffers from Fibromyalgia, I'm no stranger to pain, so I decided to dismiss what I was feeling as yet another symptom of said condition. An hour and a half or so later, we had had our dinner and the concert for the queen's diamond jubilee was about to kick off on BBC1, little haggis and I were enjoying a lovely bowl of ice cream (it was a celebratory weekend after all!). Shortly after that I started to feel very clammy and shaky and the pain intensified very rapidly. If I hadn't been 100% certain that it was completely impossible, I would have sworn that I was about to give birth. O.K., the location of the pain wasn't really spot-on, but the intensity was most certainly able to compete with the later stages of labour. It became so bad that nothing in terms of lying down, standing up, stretching out, sitting down in various positions, helped. I've never before had the need to call NHS24 and was a bit wary about doing so, but Little Haggis, who was getting very worried, insisted I call up. To cut a long story short, they decided that my symptoms were too much like those of a cardiac problem and called out an ambulance. Needless to say that I was in shock, upset and panicked. Those sentiments are very contagious, as within minutes Little Haggis was crying, together with me I need to add. Minutes later, the ambulance arrived and before I knew it, I had been linked up to an ECG machine by means of 12 thin cables, connected to the same amount of plasters with "poppers" on them. All the while, my poor Little Haggis was looking more ill and pale than I did myself. They soon established that my heart was fine (which is what I had thought myself to be honest). My temperature had gone up though and the pain was not letting off at all. So, in the ambulance we went, me on the bed and my little girl by my side in a chair, clutching her "Cowie" teddy. She is 11 now, but she looked very small and utterly lost, full of worry. The drive to the hospital took just a little less than an hour and all the while I felt like I was on a magically flying carpet... I felt extremely light-headed, teetering on the edge of consciousness. They wheeled me into A&E, popped me in a bed and not long after that a nurse arrived to attend to me. Blood samples were taken and it was around that time, the pain finally started to ease. Another series of funny little plasters were attached to my chest and nearby areas, more leads were linked up and that verified the fact that my heart was completely fine. By this time it was after 11pm and my poor Little Haggis looked exhausted. The same nurse came back and announced that it was most likely that I'd need to be kept in overnight for observation, but what to do with my little girl? Did I have any family or friends who were able to pick her up and have her for the night? The simple answer: I have no family here at all. My boy is all grown up, lives near Newcastle these days and hasn't got a driving license, so he was definitely not an option. I have lovely neighbours, they are the best, but I just couldn't call them out of their beds, so close to midnight. So, one option remained and it's exactly the one I was dreading, because I knew exactly what reaction to expect. My ex-husband, Little Haggis' father had to be called to collect her. The nurse kindly offered to call him up and after about 5 attempts she finally got him on the line. Of course, as expected, he was questioning the necessity of him coming over to collect his child, seeing as there are always numerous things in his life which seem to be of much higher priority and value, heading the list is himself. Even though it would not take any longer than about 50 minutes to get to the hospital from where he lives (probably less at that time of night, it being a clear, dry night with hardly any traffic on the roads), he eventually arrived about an hour and a half later. In that time, my condition had improved greatly, my temperature had come down to a normal healthy level again, the pain had as good as disappeared, and other than still feeling light-headed and very tired, I felt fairly OK. So he walked in, looked at me in that annoyed "you are such a nuisance!" kind of way and promptly declared that there was nothing wrong with me and "why the hell did he need to come out!?". The nurse pointed out that I had improved now, but I had been all but fine when I'd been brought in. Also, beside that point, he was not there to give his unqualified opinion of my state of health, he was there because his daughter had nowhere to go and couldn't stay with me in hospital. At the same time the doctor who had been in earlier, returned and told me they thought the pain had been caused by a possible gall stone, that this can indeed cause very intense, acute pain, but that I should be fine for now. Upon seeing my ex, she also decided that I was OK to go home. Of course she presumed that the man in my room was my partner or a relative with good intentions, who would take me safely home.... How wrong could she have been? Doctor and nurse out of the room, he turned to me and said: "Well, nothing wrong with you, so you can go home. I'll just be off then, I'm sure you can take a taxi home..." "So are you not going to take us home daddy?" asked Little Haggis, who by that time was utterly exhausted and slumped on a chair, huddled inside my dressing gown and holding on for dear life to her teddy. "No, that would add almost an hour to my journey, surely you can UNDERSTAND that I want to go to my bed and don't want to be driving round by your place. Just get a taxi!" was his reply. And with that, he just turned on his heels and off he went. By that time it was somewhere between half past midnight and 1 in the morning and there we were, one very tired little girl and one equally exhausted big girl who felt so dizzy that the whole world was spinning, left to get a taxi for a fairly long drive in the middle of the night. The nurse came back into the room and asked my little girl where her dad had gone, to which she replied: "home...". To say that she was incredulous would be an understatement. A taxi was ordered and after spending about another 20 minutes in a waiting room with one person who kept being sick and another couple with a small child who seemed to be suffering from croup, we were picked up by said taxi who took us home for the tidy sum of £50... I got a fright when I found myself in pain which I couldn't identify as anything I'd felt before, I got even more of a fright when the nurse on the phone to NHS24 told me there might be a cardiac problem, but none of these things shocked me as badly as the fact that this utterly selfish man, who I very stupidly married all these years ago, just walked out and left his own daughter and her mother who was not well, in a hospital in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of the night, to wait for a taxi which I could ill afford, not caring whether we got back home OK or not, as long as he was fine and soon back to his own bed. I came to this country for him, left everything behind, family, friends... all that was mine and familiar. I have remained in this country mostly for reasons relating to him, in order to enable him and our daughter to have good and regular contact. Any time I have thought about returning to my own country, I have been filled with guilt at the thought of taking my little girl away from him... yet, when we both are in need, he doesn't even feel the slightest hint of responsibility. And I just can't figure out why I am still here...

Phone Call

"CLICK...."

She sat, holding the receiver, wondering why.

Of course, this was not the first time.

It had been about 3 months since she last heard from her mother. Far too long, but inevitably what happened if she did not make the effort to be the one to get in touch.
She'd considered calling, even writing a letter, but she felt bitter and mostly also very hurt, and thus, she decided to wait. Wait for her mother to call her... for once.

Eventually, the phone call came. What she hoped for was some motherly care, concern, an enquiry about her well being, the well being of her kids. Instead, she was subjected to an avalanche of complaints, self-pity and misery. Again, of course, this also was not the first time.


"The exhibition was a disaster! Five months spent, sitting, painting 17 paintings... and what for? I tell you, it was an utter disaster, never had such poor sales before...."

"Well, what did you expect? We are in the middle of an economic crisis. People are losing jobs, losing their homes. Don't you think it's to be expected that very few people buy luxuries like paintings at this moment in time?"

"Do you have any idea how much work goes into 17 paintings??!! Five months, I tell you, Five months I have been painting for!!!"

"what about all us people who actually have to work in menial jobs for a living? What about those who clean toilets? People who work night shifts? People who have to do things which are a lot less enjoyable than painting, day in day out? Try, for a lifetime? What about them?"

"And anyway, why have you not called me?!?"

"Well, I am always the one who calls, you want to talk for over an hour at a time, and actually, while we are on the subject of the economic crisis, I am all but in a great financial state at this moment. It's an international call for me too. I don't see why I always have to be one shouldering the cost."

"You know my situation! I can't call you. It will cause trouble and fights. You know my husband won't have it."

"You know what? I'm sick of this crap about your husband. What are you? Are you his wife? Do you live in the same house, and aren't you supposed to have the same rights? If you want to call your kids, you should just pick up the phone and do exactly that! I would like to see any man trying to stop me from calling my kids! And you know something else? I have lived here for well over 11 years now, and I have had the honour of your company here at my house for exactly 11 days over those 11 years. Do you think that's normal??? I don't even live that far away. I know people who's kids have moved over to New Zealand and South Africa and they have seen 10 times more of their parents over the time they've been away than I've seen of you! How do you think that feels? Do you really think that inspires me to keep calling you?"

"Well, you know who's fault that is, you know wh..."

"Oh, don't you dare to say another word!! Don't even think of going there!"

"If your father had not le.."

"Oh, get over it will you!! That was 20 years ago! How dare you blame my father for the fact that you can't be bothered to come and see your daughter, he has NOTHING to do with that, NOTHING!! People get divorced en re-marry all the time you know! My dad is not responsible for your choices in life! He hasn't even got any influence over them anymore."

"well, I wanted to call now, and I was going to talk to you, but well, I don't feel like that anymore now!"

"CLICK ..."