What about your saucepans? Part 1.

IN SEARCH OF A DREAM

"Help me, I am drowning. Please please please will someone just help me. I am drowning, I can't breathe. Please do something, for God's sake do something now. Help me please" I sobbed desperately.

I thrashed around on the rusty old hospital trolley, trying desperately to swim up to the surface where I could find some air. I was kicking my fins with all my might, but all they could see were my feet drumming incessantly up and down. I tried to do breaststroke with my arms and someone just held me down. They were trying to drown me. I screamed but no words came out. I tried frantically to get air into my lungs. Nothing happened. My brain would not work properly and I just couldn't think straight. I had to make them understand I needed air. I tried slashing my hand across my throat which was the classic diving signal for ‘out of air’. They just held me down. They were holding me underwater, they were drowning me. Someone was drowning me.

"Danilo help me. For the love of God help me. They are killing me. Please help me. Oh God please help me."

If I could see myself now I would be horrified at the way I looked. I was a small woman, only 5 ft 3 inches tall, and about 110 pounds. Now I looked like a grotesque blow up doll. My head and face were swollen beyond recognition, so much so it was impossible to open my eyes. My chest and arms were twice their normal size. I was filthy from head to toe, caked in mud and dirt. My normally short blonde hair was matted with blood. Every time I tried to take a breath, my throat was like one of those old fashioned drinking water fountains we had in school – you would press the lever down and water would spurt up, - but in my case it was blood. A little spurt of blood would shoot a few inches up into the air and then trickled back onto my chest. Dripping onto the trolley then the grubby floor beneath.

I was dying, I knew that, and every second I was finding it harder to fight. My brain was starving of oxygen and slowly started to shut down. I just couldn't fight it any more. Panic gave way to acceptance. I knew this was the end, I just couldn't breathe. My lungs were now almost totally collapsed, my chest cavity full to the brim with blood and air. As they pushed me rapidly down the corridor, with the sound of the squeaking wheels of the trolley reverberating in my head, I wondered how the hell did someone like me end up in a place like this and my final thought before I felt myself sink below the waves was where it all started. The beginning.

***********

I suppose it all started when I was born. The year was 1955. The first can of coke was sold and Bird’s Eye launched their fish fingers. The music scene was changing from traditional ballroom dancing to rock and roll with Bill Haley and his Comets and Rock Around the Clock at number one in the charts. Although by 1955 the Second World War had been over for 10 years and the Warsaw Pact signed, there was still some rationing and the peace was an uneasy one. It was a time of hope and a time of concern about the future. The Civil Rights movement started in the USA and in the UK although the first female television news reader came onto the scene, women were usually either stay at home mums or teachers, nurses or secretaries.

I started to rock the boat even before I was born as my mother had to go into hospital 3 weeks before I arrived, suffering from high blood pressure. In the end I made my appearance on November 19th 1955 in RAF hospital Ely. That meant I was a Scorpio. Loyal, passionate, resourceful and dynamic. And fiercely independent. Apparently Scorpios make excellent doctors, surgeons, scientists and leaders, as they are perfectly suited to any form of business that makes a difference in the world, and greatly impacts people and society. Why couldn’t I have waited just 4 more days? Then I would have been Sagittarius and I am sure my life would have been much easier. My father was in the Air Force and was flying when I was born, so he missed my arrival. In those days I don’t think it was usual for fathers to be present. He wasn’t there much during the rest of my life either. Once able to leave hospital, my parents had nowhere to live so I went with my mother to live with her mother in Portsmouth for a few weeks, whilst Dad looked for suitable lodgings for us. My grandmother was an amazing woman, a Head Teacher and it was she who christened me the DLS or Dear Little Soul. I was on the small side, and ended up at 5’ 3” which meant I could never be a policewoman, air stewardess or Miss World.

My early childhood was uneventful. My parents eventually bought a caravan which we lived in until I was seven by which time I had been joined by a sister and identical twin brothers. Due to excellent planning almost 3 years separated my sister and me and my brothers and her. My mother had gone back to work as a teacher when I was three and as there was no one to look after me, and I could already read, I started school, having no problem keeping up with my older classmates. I remember one event at school which was one of the first times in my life I acted in haste without thinking through the consequences. This was something which would repeat itself again and again, and result in all of the major changes in my life.

The teacher asked her assistant to take us outside onto the playing field and read us a story. There were around 20 five year olds and me. We sat on the grass in a circle and she began to read the story. I announced that I knew that particular story and asked her to read something else. She started another one and once again I interrupted. As I read all the time at home, I knew all of the stories and in the end she became totally fed up with this precocious little brat and sent me back to the classroom. Somewhat miffed I decided to teach her a lesson. Once I had returned to the classroom I climbed inside a small cupboard where the drawing materials were, closing the door behind me. Story time ended and the children trooped back into the classroom and of course I was nowhere to be seen. Panic ensued, my mother had to leave her class and everyone was looking for me. I remember hearing the student teacher sobbing. ”Ha!” I thought. “That will teach you.” Then it struck me, that maybe there would not be universal joy when I clambered out of my cupboard. There were obviously two potential outcomes. One was unbounded joy that I had not been kidnapped by some middle aged sex offender and left beaten to death under a bush. The second was unbridled fury that I had caused such concern. What had seemed a good idea at the time now was not feeling like such a good plan but as there was obviously no way I could stay in the cupboard indefinitely I had to make an appearance. And I was right, I was in trouble and there was no universal joy at all. Unfortunately I did not learn from this, and at various times throughout my life made decisions without thinking through the consequences. My heart totally ruled my head.