Hospital Babylon by Imogen Edwards-Jones

Author:Imogen Edwards-Jones
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781446465516
Publisher: Transworld

6–7 p.m.

Nigel sits in Andrea’s office regaling Ian and David with more of his stories while I try to concentrate on sorting out Katie’s paperwork. I go back out into the waiting room to see if I can have a calm and reasonable chat with Katie’s mother, who is firmly ensconced in the far corner next to the television, leafing through Now magazine. She seems remarkably relaxed for someone whose daughter has just tried to kill herself. But then, it is extraordinary how different people deal with stress. I once treated a woman whose only way of coping with anything too tricky was to fall asleep. She had stress-induced narcolepsy, and every time she was put under pressure, she would keel over. In the end she was put on heavy-duty beta-blockers so nothing really touched her again.

‘Good evening, Mrs Heywood,’ I begin with Katie’s mother.

Her thin, pinched face looks up from studying Cheryl Cole’s fashion tips.

‘Katie’s fine,’ I say quickly, to reassure her. ‘But we would like to keep her in, you know, just to make sure.’

‘OK then,’ she says. Her grey eyes are impassive.

‘She may be in for a couple of days.’

‘Do you need me to sign anything?’ she asks.

‘Katie’s not a minor so she can sign her own forms,’ I reply. ‘But I’m sure she would like to see you now. I’ll find out where she’s going to be so you can come and see her. Visiting hours are four p.m. till eight p.m. You could pop in and see her now if you like. She might also need some stuff. A toothbrush, that sort of thing.’

‘No,’ she says, her nose curling, like she has smelt something bad, ‘you’re all right.’ She gets up. ‘I’ve got stuff to do. She can send me a text later if she wants.’

‘Oh, right.’

I’m not really sure what to do. Try and persuade her to see her daughter, even if that causes more aggro, or just let her go? Atrophied by indecision, I watch her leave. She slopes off, staring at the floor, her shoulders hunched. She’s got the walk of a depressive. I remember talking to a psychiatrist once about depression and she told me that you can always tell a lot about people from their walk. The body has a rhythm, and the way you swing your arms and the balance and motion of your gait can indicate so many things, from depression to the early onset of Parkinson’s. Depressives rarely look up, towards the sky. In fact one of the suggested therapies for depression is to walk, to get the blood circulating, and look up at the clouds. Movement releases endorphins that help improve your mood. But from the way Katie’s mother is walking, she’s not seen the sun or the clouds for months. I’m willing to bet that she would benefit from a bit of therapy herself.

I look around, and the waiting room is seriously beginning to fill up now. There are a few cuts that need stitching, what looks like a dog bite, a broken wrist, some bloke who’s been hit in the face.

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