The big day arrives. "L" is discharged from hospital. We try to visit the Admin office to pay the bill. It is too tiring for "L"; she has a relapse and has to be rushed back to the ward. After some Paracetamol, a prescription for more (and some safe anti-nausea pills), and the magical production of a wheel chair, we are ready to try again. We get a taxi, as "L" is in no fit state for my normal buses, tram and metro route.
The taxi driver is a real Parisian; short tempered, shouting, swearing, gesticulating and with a liberal use of the horn. We ask him to slow down for corners and bumps, and his only response is to ask "Is she going to be sick in my car?" He also seems unable to find her apartment and takes an exceedingly circuitous route around the last block or two (or three).
"L" now spends the rest of the week on her own bed with her laptop PC and broadband connection (bliss!). Meanwhile, I rent another apartment in the same building, allowing me to act as a full-time nursemaid: cooking, washing, shopping, repeat. But I don't mind; in fact, I have never been happier. I have my daughter back from the brink of death. For me the week is magical – another miracle – as we finally have the opportunity "to get to know each other" once more. Since "L" became a teenager, I have longed to re-establish our previously close relationship. This week, my wish is fulfilled ... although I could ask for a better reason for it to happen.
One day, I return from shopping to find "L" crying. Fearing one of the long term effects has surfaced, I ask why. She shows me the laptop screen - she has been looking-up details about Meningitis on the web. “Daddy, I am lucky to be alive, aren't I?”. I try to deny this, telling her that the antibiotics were prescribed in good time; but we both know she is right.
The following day (Thursday) is another day that I have longed for. My wife "H" joins us in Paris. Now that all the paperwork is sorted out, and "L's" situation is a lot simpler, "H" feels that her 1st year evening class French is possibly up to the shopping and nursemaid's job.
Saturday comes, and it is time for me to leave "H" to look after "L" for a while longer. As I leave, I hear myself firmly instructing "L" ...
- to sleep-in late every morning,
- laze on the bed all day,
- and watch plenty of DVDs.
Finally, I return to work on the Monday, ... although it takes me almost a whole week to get back into the swing of things.
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