My mum has fallen ill. She has a fever and an infection in her leg and has been taken to hospital only 4 weeks before my brother’s wedding. I’m 200 miles away at university and my final exams begin in the next week so I can’t even go home to be with my family.
It’s another worry on top of the mountain accumulating around me and I feel like I’m beginning to crack.
She’d been in hospital over the weekend and my brother had text me earlier to tell me she’s on a drip but she should hopefully be out of hospital by the following weekend. It’s Tuesday. I feel useless.
I try to ring her but it goes to voicemail. I try to focus on something else. I pull my textbooks out and try to revise for an exam I have in 6 days but nothing is going in and my eyes constantly flick over to my phone in hope of a message or a call.
Nothing.
My mind drifts to the tall handsome thorn in my side. A couple days ago he had promised to be better, begged me to give him another chance when I tried to walk out of his life and I’d relented. Since then he’d been loosely available to speak to, he knew my mum was in hospital, but he was still as flakey as ever. I should be used to this, but somehow I only feel more let down.
I really wanted to speak to someone; I hadn’t spoken to another human voice all day, just cooped up in my empty flat, in my prison cell disguised as a halls bedroom, alone with a specific type of exhaustion weighing heavy on my chest.
My best friends were miles away at their respective universities preparing for their own exams in the library, so I couldn’t call either of them. My brothers would both be at work right now, as it was late afternoon, so they were out of the question. Everyone had their own lives, it was just me in my pit.
I decided to ring him, but regretted it immediately as it rang all the way through to voicemail. I waited half an hour for some sort of response and despite myself I rang again. No answer. I drop him a text asking him to call me. I had nothing better to do but wait, either for him or my mum to call me back. Or the ground to swallow me whole.
I was spiralling; possible scenarios for neither of them picking up ran through my head at impossible speed. My thoughts’ running wild was a pointless exercise, yet still managed to panic me endlessly.
He knows my mum is in hospital, something could be seriously wrong, any response would be better than ignoring me. He said he'd be there for me, but he’s always been full of empty promises; I don’t know why I’m even surprised.
My phone lights up. It’s my mum. I scramble to answer it quickly.
‘Hello?’
‘Hi darling, you rang me?’ She sounds tired and I can hear the bustle of a hospital ward in the background.
‘Yeah I just wanted to check how you are’ I say full of relief. It was so good to hear another voice, especially that of my mum.
‘Oh, I’m alright, I’m on a drip but I should be fine. I just don’t want to stay in this hospital.’ Blunt and to the point, she sounded fed up. I didn’t blame her. So was I.
I force a laugh.
‘I’m glad you’re okay. I’m sorry I can’t be there, but my exams…’
‘Don’t worry about it, what would you do down here? It’s boring, that’s for sure.’ It didn’t quite cure my guilt, but she was trying and I appreciated it.
‘How are you?’ She asks.
And with that question, I burst into tears.
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