It’s good to have at least one part of the week as it should be.
Once Tess sorts out our food, she comes and joins me. ‘What’s going on? How come you know that guy?’
I should answer straight away, but I need the comfort of food first. I devour three mouthfuls of Tess’s slow-cooker curry before feeling the benefit enough to be able to seek any counsel. ‘He’s a nurse up at the hospital. He’s looking after case study five.’
‘Oh, so you know him. That’s positive. And he gave you his number.’ Tess winks. Tess never winks.
‘It’s not like that. It’s about the complicated patient who dances. I’ve inadvertently offered to help even though I don’t know how I can. There won’t be any other dates with George when I’ve come in here on the verge of a panic attack.’
‘Why does he think you’d want to talk? What’s happened?’
I shovel several more forkfuls of the chicken curry into my mouth, glad that Tess knows me well enough so that I don’t have to worry about appearing rude. My ability to communicate well is always severely affected when I’m hungry.
‘I’m not sure how much I can say.’ Do the rules about confidentiality still apply if the event isn’t real? It’s not as if the gruesome murder is about to end up in the local newspaper.
‘Tell me what you can. I understand if it’s the edited version.’ Tess takes a sip of drink, giving me her full attention. She’s got her well-practised listening face on.
I chew over what I can say. ‘As you know, most of the participants for this study have gone through some kind of traumatic event. The shock is what causes the heart to balloon and that’s when they become unwell. It’s very unusual, but in Clive’s case, the trauma is imagined. There’s no evidence of the event he’s reported. At the moment the hallucination is being put down to delirium as the result of a water infection, which isn’t uncommon for his age group. Obviously, what he dreamed up was so realistic it resulted in his heart trauma as well.’ I trace my finger over my wrist and brush against my scar, acknowledging its presence. I’m more aware of it since Clive’s discovery.
‘More of a nightmare if that was the result. Poor chap. Have you been losing sleep? You look tired.’
‘I’ve not been sleeping well. Even though his story isn’t true, it kind of got to me. Knowing that in his mind it did happen, I feel sorry for him.’ In truth, it has also awoken a part of my past that I don’t like to think about. I keep finding myself in fitful dreams that I’d rather not be part of.
‘Is that why you haven’t been able to pop by like usual? Your messages didn’t give much away.’
For the past few days I’ve been working over lunches and grabbing a quick sandwich to cover Lucy’s workload. Today is the first day I’ve been able to take a proper lunch break.
‘Lucy hasn’t been well. She was with me when I went to the hospital. At first I thought hearing Clive’s story had caused her tummy upset. That or her special method of cooking eggs has given her food poisoning.’
It’s the first time that Lucy has been off work because of an illness rather than an accident. All her previous absences have been as the result of her clumsiness: the time she scalded her palm so badly it needed a nurse to dress it for a fortnight or the time she broke her ankle ice-skating.
‘She’s been feeling sick. Full-on nausea. Food poisoning would have passed by now. I’m going to get her to go to the GP if she’s not feeling better after the weekend. I can’t help but think it’s because of hearing that story though. It made her sick to the stomach and it’s taking her a while to recover.’
‘What about you? How’s it left you feeling? It’s obviously affected you as well.’
‘It’s hard to explain.’ I don’t know how to express how hollow the experience has left me feeling – and it’s not to do with the story, but the man telling it. Being seen has made me feel exposed, made me remember things that were long forgotten. ‘I guess I’m worried for him. He needs help and I’m not sure he has anyone who’ll be able to. He doesn’t want to go home, but he has nowhere else to go.’