The Longest, hardest day - Part 3

I cant remember how I have ended up standing outside the isolation ward all by myself, but I have. I am on auto pilot, as I am shown into a side office, the same one that sat in about 10 days before being told the odds of her surviving. As I walked into the room the memories are there but bogged down in the numbness.

Kim Consultant's start talking, to this day I can not remember what she said. All I can remember is shaking the consultants hand and being presented with all the worldly goods that Kim had with her in the hospital. Her life for the last few months packed into a handful of bags.

Now it admin time, I get the Medical Cert of cause of death from a bereavement care office, load everything into the vehicle, set the Sat Nav to the Registry office. On the way out from the hospital stands the Building where Kim last hope was processed, National Blood Service lab.

I pulled up outside the registry office and look round at the sad faces, with red eyes and tear lines running down them. The kids did not want to come so Tom stayed with them, to look after them. As I walked to towards the Build I reached total emotional shutdown. Not the best time to update my direct boss, on what happening.

I send a impersonal text just saying 'kim has died', I was not thinking, and did not think about him receiving that o so blunt text. The Battle harden First Aider in me, was running the show, If it was not, I would still be back at the hospital crying on to Tom T shirt.

Processing the death was a cold and logical process. As I walked out I Looked down at the certificate of death, and a part of my soul ached with the finality of it all. Well in Birmingham at least.

We arrive back at home. Shell is crying, she has not stop since she got the news about Kim. Steph is doing what she normally does as it has not sunk in. God I wish I had the fortune of innocence to protect me from this horrible day. We off load the kit and I head back to work to drop the vehicle off.

I walk though the doors to see Barry standing at reception. As I get closer, he utters a line he had thought greatly about “bad day then” this would be the last greeting I would have for a while that would not have the words sorry or condolences in the first line.

As I walk into the cool evening air, I lean against a support pillar. Take a deep breath and try to muster the last dregs of energy in my body to stop myself falling apart where I stood.

Today had really taken it out of me.