Hold my hand? (Part 2)

Right on cue my mum rang. I assured her everything was ok, that I would stop with dad and that she should go back to bed as there was nothing to worry about. As I returned, dad asked if my mum was ok and I said she was. He looked as his watch and motioned that we should get going as it was approaching 2am. But we hadn't been seen to yet. “No worries Saim, it’s just a cut, I’ve had worse! Nothing a few plasters won’t fix. I’m sure you can manage that can’t ya, you would-be medic?!” he says laughing and pointing to the oozing wound. I told him he was gonna need stitches and quite a few by the looks of it. BAD MOVE! Never tell a nervous person they’re gonna need stitches. Big No No! I saw Dad eyeing up the door to the A&E department which I guess that must have been the “flight or fight” response kicking in. Except he’d done the fight bit and now it was time for the flight part :P

Thankfully the doctor called out dad’s name so he had no time to escape. Phew! The doctor was a nice Nigerian man slightly younger than dad – “Ah Mr Ahmed, that looks quite nasty. I’m afraid you’re gonna need a few stitches.” Dad looked a bit nervous again so I replied on his behalf - “Yea that’s fine” I said with my hand on his shoulder, just in case he made a run for it. He lay down on the examining bed and looked at me. At that moment I saw something in his eyes. Fear I think. And it instinctively made me reach out and squeeze his hand. During my hospital placements, just listening to a patient and holding their hand makes such a big difference. Giving them a hug is even better – at the appropriate moment of course. Whether they are in pain, sad and lonely or even happy, there is something about the human touch that is just so comforting. No other feeling comes close to it. Even at home with Aishi, if we’re watching TV, I’ll often hold her hand just so she knows I’m there. I mean she can see me and hear me but just holding hands – it’s something she used to do a lot when we were kids and it was comforting to me in many ways – knowing that I had someone by my side. Therefore even though I’m not overly touchy feely, part of me feels compelled to do it and so I guess I’ll continue hold to hands when it’s required of me :)

As the doctor administered the pain relief, my dad winced. So I leaned closer and told him that I was here with him and that he could squeeze my hand as hard as he wanted. Funnily enough as the doctor started suturing dad’s wound, it was me to started to feel my knees to go a little as the needle went in, which was a first for me. I don’t think it had anything to do with the suturing as I’ve seen it done many times before and had a few go’s myself. But more likely to do with the fact that somehow I could feel the pain that my dad was in and it wasn’t a nice feeling. I’m pleased to say I did not faint and that dad stuck it out. Afterwards as we were walking out of the treatment room towards the car park, dad spoke up - “Well that wasn’t bad at all!”. I’m glad he thought so and I’m sure in a few years time he’ll accuse me of going over the top with the whole incident and state how he wasn’t scared at all. Because that is what my dad is about – he is always the brave one, he’s the one in charge and even if he is worried he doesn’t let it show. But for those fleeting few moments that night, I saw the little child in my dad - someone who does have fears. Even if it is over trivial little things like having stitches. I’m in two minds over the whole thing. I mean I got to see a side of my dad that shows that he isn’t always brave and that he can have moments of insecurity, just like everyone else and that no one is immune from it. Yet at the same time it scared me to see that my dad can have insecurities. He’s just another normal person and not the image of an indestructible man that I had built up in my head since I was a child. Over time as I’ve grown up, I’ve seen these situations for what they are and they’ve made me realise that everyone has their weaknesses, that no one can’t be strong all the time and you shouldn’t take them for granted. So for now my dad can still continue being the brave one in the family, the leader, but at the same time I’m aware that just like everyone else, he too needs a break every once in a while.

After the hospital, I drove the police officer and my dad to the police station where they carried out various formalities whilst I waited in the car. I then took him to his car to collect some to his belongings and we walked back to my car. As we walked dad held out his hand to me to cross the road, like he used to do when I was a little girl. At 20 years old, I didn’t think that that was necessary and yet again something in my compelled me to just hold his hand. No questions were asked, nothing was said and as we crossed that road, Dad was the leader again and I was just Saima. That was good enough for now. I just hope that when the time comes, someone will hold my hand too when I need them :)