Chapter 22 #2
‘She just vomited again,’ I said, indicating the growing collection of sealed blue pouches on the floor. The doctor nodded in acknowledgement.
‘Has she been drinking?’
‘No. She hasn’t been able to eat or drink much the last couple of days.’
‘Okay. And, before then, did she eat anything out of the ordinary?’
‘I don’t think so. Mum?’
She remained conspicuously silent.
‘Mum?!’
‘Those pods,’ she whispered.
‘Pods? What are you talking about?’
‘Those… coffeetree pods we found in the park. I’ve been… eating the seeds. They’re like little edible coffee beans. They’re meant to be nutritious.’
The doctor sighed, as if she’d encountered this precise situation before. Which, surely, wasn’t possible. She turned to me as Mum began throwing up again, coolly passing her the fresh sick bag in the nick of time.
‘Can you confirm what seeds she is referring to?’ she asked, poised to look up whatever the hell we were talking about on her device.
‘Kentucky coffeetree pods. We went, umm, foraging in Central Park a few days ago and found some, and brought them back to our hotel. But I didn’t expect you to actually consume them, Mum!’
‘Did you… boil or roast them before you ate them?’ the doctor asked, not looking up from her tablet.
‘No,’ Mum whispered, before spitting into the bowl again.
‘Okay then, I think we’ve found the culprit.
Just like actual coffee beans, they need to be roasted before they can be consumed safely to neutralise the toxins.
Mrs Bell, your symptoms are consistent with cytisine poisoning and dehydration.
Thankfully, your body seems to be doing a good job of naturally ridding the toxins from your system, but we need to focus on your fluids. ’
‘Do you need to confirm it with any tests or anything?’ I asked.
‘We could run some tests, yes, but we’d need your insurance details for that.’
‘Do you have the details on you, Mum?’
She said nothing, so I leaned in close and whispered. ‘Mum, please tell me you booked travel insurance for this trip?’
The tiniest shake of her head confirmed my suspicion. I inhaled deeply through my nose and turned back towards the doctor, whose face was reassuringly neutral.
‘That’s a, umm, no on the insurance, Doctor. We’re here on holiday and fly home tomorrow.’
‘I see,’ the doctor said. ‘And are you certain you didn’t hit your head when you fell?’ she asked, turning back to Mum.
‘Yes, there was a big pile of pillows on the floor so it was a soft landing.’
Thank you, bathtub bed.
‘Good. So, my professional opinion is activated charcoal and electrolytes – which are both available to buy at most drug stores – should get you sorted out in a day or two.’
‘Activated charcoal and electrolytes?’ I repeated, typing the words into my phone.
‘That’s right, although I’ll write my full treatment recommendations on the discharge paperwork. I’m going to send someone in to remove this drip, then you’ll just need to sign a form before heading on your way.’
‘Will we need to pay for all of this?’ Mum mumbled.
The doctor sighed, looking between us before making a decision. ‘There’ll be no invoice for tonight’s treatment, but please don’t travel without insurance again. And make sure you see a doctor when you get back to the UK.’
‘Definitely, thanks so much for your help and understanding,’ I said.
The doctor nodded once, before vanishing and pulling the curtain closed behind her. I knew we wouldn’t be seeing her again.
I turned to Mum, my face burning.
‘Please don’t say anything, Flora. I know, I know. I’m sorry.’
‘How many did you eat?’
‘Enough.’
‘You’ve been eating them every day?’
She nodded. That would explain why her symptoms kept coming and going.
‘And the insurance?’
‘I forgot.’
I sighed loudly in exasperation.
Mum said nothing, pressing her eyes closed instead. I was horrified to see two giant tears squeeze themselves out between her eyelashes and roll down her cheeks.
‘Oh, Mum, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Come here.’
I leaned over her and held her, combing my fingers through her hair.
‘I know I’m useless, Flora. You needed a much nicer, gentler mum than me. Someone more… steady. I’ve always known that, ever since you were a baby.’
‘Shush, shush. It’s okay. We’ve got each other; that’s the only thing that matters.’
I was beginning to understanding the truth of those words.
Mum’s shoulders shook slightly in my embrace, until Anneka burst through the curtain in a fluster, her eyes still red from crying.
‘I just saw the doctor leave your cubicle,’ she said, slightly gasping for breath. ‘What did she say? The cancer isn’t back, is it?’
What in the holy hell did she just say?
‘I’m sorry, the what?’
Anneka’s hand flew to her mouth. ‘Fuck, Mum, I’m sorry, I—’
Mum placed a quaking hand on Anneka’s forearm. ‘It’s okay, love. No, it’s not the cancer. And it’s time she knew. Come and sit here, Flora.’ Mum created some space for me on the hospital bed and patted the small spot that had opened up next to her.
I numbly did as she instructed, resting half my bum on the mattress. Mum took both my hands and it felt like everything I’d ever known was about to shift on its axis.