Everyone keeps talking
about the weather. There's other news of course: a couple who have gone missing
with the proceeds of a charity auction; an elderly lady bludgeoned to death in
her bungalow; a cabinet minister photographed in a seedy night-club with his
secretary. Lisa leans back against her pillow and wonders if that even counts
as news.
But it's the weather
that everybody seems interested in. The third bout of snow since New Year, and
this time there has been chaos. Not just in the Highlands of Scotland where,
let's face it, the people are more prepared, more resourceful and are actually
expecting to be snowed-in once in a while. No, this time there has been chaos
in places more often associated with sunny photos in holiday brochures. She knows
of a friend caught in a blizzard, who left her car and togged up in all-weather
gear walked to safety. It was a week before they dug the car out.
For Lisa, the weather
has been a distraction. Propped up in her sixth-floor hospital bed, she has
watched the world beneath her turn into some snow-globe image of the city she
knows.
Around her, patients
have come and gone. Often the weather has been to blame. An elderly man, who
had slipped on the icy steps by the Arndale. A woman who was cut from an overturned
car. A teenager knocked down when crossing the road, her turned-up hood
obliterating her view of the oncoming van. Each has their own story, and over
the past few weeks most of the tales have been about the weather.
Lisa would like hers
to be the same. She too would like to be able to blame something (an unseen
pothole) or someone (a councillor who voted against spreading salt on the
pavements) but she knows it was her fault. If only she'd got the steps out
instead of climbing on that chair. If only.
The porter comes to
collect her in the wheelchair.
'Time for physio,' he
says, cheerfully. 'Come on. It gets better ever day. It's always the first
steps that are the hardest.'
He's talking about the
physical ones, of course. The pain in a limb, the strain on a muscle.
Lisa nods. She knows
there is nobody to blame but herself. She accepts that now. It wasn't the
uneven floor. Or the wonky leg. It was her and her impatience. And accepting
that, she knows she's on the way to recovery.
'Yes,' she says. 'The first
steps always are.'
No comments:
Post a Comment