Almost settled into our new home in the countryside Mr Warehouse and I decided to embark on a weekend away with the dog. Nowhere particularly fancy just a hotel by the seaside in Bournemouth for a couple of nights. And truth be told honestly I think we needed it.
Following the stress and pressure from every angle over the last few months on top of my poor mental health of late has certainly not helped our relationship blossom as best it could given the fact we are newly engaged. For me anyway I think the fact that I am mentally preparing myself for a monumental life-changing event and inadvertently my focus has been on that rather than my relationship with my fiance. I suppose I just thought that after getting engaged and moving into our first home together it would be a time for constant banging, laughs and giggles all the way. I suppose in a way things have been difficult a little bit since Mr Warehouse had his motorcycle accident.
Our first morning in our new home was meant to be something special. I would wave of Mr Warehouse as he went to work meanwhile I would be safe and sound in my cosy bed having a much needed lay in before getting up to unpack the rest of the boxes strewn about the house after my normal day off routine of coffee, toast with posh jam and a dose of Holly and Phil on Pre-Recorded This Morning and maybe a cheeky Homes Under The Hammer. But less than twenty-minutes after Mr Warehouse had kissed my forehead and wave me goodbye from the bedroom door I had a phone call. Answering in my croaky slumber I was pretty sure that the phone call was not for Good News. Listening to the voice on the other end of the phone it sounded panicked and in pain. They sounded scared and we're asking for my help.
"It hurts. Everything hurts" was all that I could remember Mr. Warehouse telling me before I started getting my shit together. Jumping out of bed I explained as calmly as I could to Mr Warehouse to stay still and make sure he does not move a single muscle in the knowledge that he could well paralysed himself or even worse. Taking a very brief note of what hurts and where I hurriedly threw on some clothes including leggings from the night before and the most quick and conveniently easy to put on top half; Nope not a T-Shirt, a button down shirt ladies and gents. For some odd reason I thought that opening up my wardrobe and grabbing a Chequered shirt with buttons was my best option rather than my embarrassingly large collection of slogan Tee's.
Running down the stairs and out the door shoving on trainers I have gone for the last three days non-stop and grabbing at a first aid kit not knowing what level of injury would await me on arrival. In my bleary half asleep moments I locked the house said goodbye to the dog and started the car all in a few moments. As I started my short journey through the empty Village that chilly morning I decided that it would probably be a good shout either way to call an ambulance and I am glad that I did for when I arrived within four-minutes of the initial first phone call from Mr Warehouse he was refusing all medical treatment and was despite my instructions to stay still, he was up on both feet and walking around, talking to another biker who had seen the abandoned motorcycle and pulled over to check he was OK.
Within a couple of minutes the motorcyclist had gone on his merry way and Mr. Warehouse and I stood shocked and blurry eyed at each other, shivering from cold and shock. Nothing was cut or broken that I could see however I thought that my Fiance may have dislocated his shoulder or even his name in the crash. As the ambulance pulled up I made sure to inform them of everything I knew up until that point including any medical history or medicine I could record that he was taking for his eczema and asthma. Although after giving Mr Warehouse the once over the paramedics thought that it would be best practise to take him into A&E template down to the fact that there was pain in the neck, shoulder and back areas. As Mr Warehouse went to lay down on the splint ready for the ambulance I knocked on a nearby thatched cottage door. No one answered at first however I decided to bide my time as I knew that with the sun coming up someone soon would be up for school. Awaiting a moment or two I knocked again and this time a little frail old woman came to a nearby window and asked how she made help me.
After explaining what had happened right outside her front door she kindly let me hoof my Fiance motorcycle into a safe area of her large front garden in order to keep safe whilst we went to hospital. Knocking on the Ambulance door, one of the paramedics finally came out to explain that they would be going to Bedford General Hospital and that I should probably follow in the car as I could not leave it on the side of the road due to the safety of other drivers. Almost bouncing into autopilot mode I jumped back into the car and headed to the hospital in advance of the ambulance. Thinking in a more rational sense I stop at a local McDonald's to pick up a coffee in order to avoid the high costs at the hospital canteen and made my way to the Accident and Emergency room just in time for Mr Warehouse's arrival in his own private waggon.
Rolling him through to the reception and checking in desk I could tell that my beautiful gorgeous boyfriend was definitely on something for the pain. In agony and clearly confused he dried out asking for me unbeknownst that I was by his side all along. The following few hours were spent running back and forth to the car in order to put more money in the machine, calling around family to let them know what had happened and the seriousness of the accident itself and what seemed to be a never-ending scrolling of Pinterest. All the while Mr Warehouse was seemingly unaware of what was going on around him, pumped full of Ketamine and Morphine for the pain, coupled with the stronger Entonox (Gas and Air) in the hospital, he was away with the fairies most of the seven hours we were their. Finally though after a CT scan, CAT scans and X-ray's, we were allowed to go home and with his arm in a sling to help ease the pain on his shoulder and elbow, Mr Warehouse left bruised, battered and shaken but alive.
A week or so on Mr Warehouse is OK, although I think mentally he is still challenged by his accident and has had several wobbles when on it, struggling to ride past the point in which he came off and barely even looking at his motorcycle let alone using it. It may take some time to get back on the Horse, so as to speak, but I am confident that in time he will be alright. I suppose in a way, in that moment, two lovers separated by a thin blue curtain in a busy A&E department on a cold November Monday morning following what could have been a quite serious RTC, nothing else mattered. The house. The boxes. The lay in and the TV. Nothing else mattered by my Beau and getting him better. Money couldn't help him, neither could Love or anything material. But hope could and with all that I am I stayed with him through everything I could or was allowed to and if I couldn't I was only behind a thin screen, and although he probably won't or maybe ever will remember, I was yelling to him like a soccer mom just how much I loved him and how everything would be OK.
