Chapter 74

the sound: Santana ft. Rob Thomas - Smooth, Santana Featuring Chad Kroeger - Into The Night, Santana & Clapton – Jingo, Santana ft John Lee Hooker, Santana ft Steven Tyler - Just feel better , Santana - Put Your Lights On, Carlos Santana et Buddy Guy - Montreux Jazz Festival

We waited well into the night for news of Robert. By midnight every relative within a hundred mile radius was in that waiting room. Many of them wailing with Mrs. K and the rest stoically waiting for news…a couple of times younger nurses came into the room trying to “shush” the family but most times before anyone could say anything to the family an older nurse would come charging in hot on their heels and stop them. More often than not they just closed the waiting room door to keep the noise down to a dull roar.

An elderly Dr came into the room some time close to 4 AM, the ensuing hush was immediate. The Dr approached Mrs. K as if he knew her; apparently she’d been here once or twice before.

Rosie took the opportunity to lean over and inform me that Robert would be none too happy about me telling their Mama the whole story. Grey shushed her.

The Dr informed Mrs. K that Robert had come through the surgery and that the next 48 hours were critical in his recovery. She sobbed into one of the never ending supplies of lace trimmed handkerchiefs she carried in that massive suitcase she called a purse.

He turned and addressed the family with some exasperation…”there will be no visits by anyone while Robert is in isolation this time…therefore there will be no cigarettes near his oxygen, no beer in his water cup and no wee toddy’s of the Irish to help him get through the night!

Do I make myself clear?” he asked, his glance taking in the whole clan. “I mean it…this is critical!”

Mrs. K picked her head up from her handkerchief long enough to look fair disgusted that he would even suggest such a thing…but I caught the sheepish grins of a couple of his brothers and at lease one of his sisters…so I was pretty sure the Dr had good grounds.

“I think your best course of action” he continued, “would be to take yerselves all home, to rest, and to take some time in the morning to make arrangements for David.”

This of course brought about a fresh set of wailing and prompted Mrs. K to say that she’d not be leaving until “her Robert” was clear enough for her to tell him exactly what she thought of his troublesome ways.

She turned to Grey and announced that he was to be the one making the arrangements…and that I; “the girl” was to help.

“Mmmme?” I gulped…”shouldn’t I just get on a bus er something? I mean I haven’t even seen Boomer in a day er two and I could just as well go home as be any more trouble.”

“Nay trouble” admonished Mrs. K. “nay argument…y’ll help Tyrone with the arrangements so that I know my Daithi will get a proper Christian buryin not one o them biker hooligans”

“Christian?” I squeaked…”but I’m not a Christian.”

The silence that ensued was palpable.

“Of course you are a Christian child,” she responded “you yerself told me that yer fadder is an Anglican”

I thought furiously of what I had told her, and what I hadn’t, and then of the fighting between the Protestants and Catholics in Ireland. For a minute I thought I’d just tell her that I was Catholic to stop this discussion, but in the end I told her “I’m pagan, a witch….I’m Wiccan.”

She glared at me for a moment…and then began, “A witch now is it? Well then, I"ll not be caring if yer green with speckled dots!” her voice began to rise in decibel and timber again…”I want my son buried properly - well and good…will ye no see tae this girl?”

“Yes ma’am” I replied, taking note of the look of glee on Rosie’s face.