The hospital staff watched as the family tenderly ministered to the damaged man. The son carefully wrapped the dressing gown around his father. The daughter gently wiped a thread of drool from the corner of his sagging mouth. The wife gathered together the last of the get well cards and turned to thank the staff profusely for their hard work and dedication.
- 'Don't mention it Mrs Hollings. Wish we could have done more.' It was true. If only they could have done more for 'good old Ted.' After all, the small farming community owed him much. He was always the first to volunteer when things got tough. It was Ted who thrashed through flames when the bushfires broke out. It was Ted who rallied the troops to pressure the government for assistance when the drought hit hard. 'Good old Ted' they whispered. You could always count on him.
- The doctor, nurses and even the cleaners lined the corridors to farewell Ted and his family. They looked with pity upon his wife, a meek sort who walked in his shadow. It was a big responsibility to provide full time home care to such a crippled man, but they knew she was up for the task. They felt sorry for the son and daughter, but they were smart kids who had gone to university. They were polite and respectful, just what the town expected from Ted's kids, and they'd stand by him. Ted was in good hands.
- When the vessel of his brain had exploded and pumped hot blood across the surface of the brain tissue no one had been more shocked than Ted. He was only in his fifties. He was as strong as a bull. Strokes were something that happened to weak and pathetic people that hadn't known a decent days work in their lives. Stokes didn't happen to people like Ted.
- His wife had not heard the faint gasp as the vessel burst. For 30 years she'd slept beside him and she'd learned to sleep through the explosions of air passed out through his asshole, what was a gasp?
- It had only been as the first flicker of light had penetrated the curtains that she'd realized something was wrong. Ted always made her rise before dawn to earn her keep. Rolling over she'd seen Ted lying on his back, his eyes fixed upon the ceiling and his mouth turned down at the left corner. Spittle was spilling from his lips to the pillow.
- 'Ted?' She'd said hesitantly. He hadn't answered. She'd poked at his arm and he'd rolled his eyes her way. He'd tried to speak but the sound emitted from his lips was like the gurgle of a blocked drain. 'Ted?'
- His wife had looked at him with strangest expression on her face for the longest time. In his mind Ted was screaming at her, 'call the bloody ambulance you stupid cow.'His eyes were burning with terror and if he could have moved his limbs he would have struck her fair across the temple.
- His wife had understood that he had suffered a stroke. For a moment she'd thought she was finally having good fortune; people died from strokes. Ted was obviously alive. She'd wondered if she waited a few minutes more if the hand of God would strike twice and Ted would be carried away to the devil. As she wasn't a particularly lucky woman she'd reasoned it wise to call the ambulance. If Ted recovered he wouldn't forget the delay.
- Before she'd dialed the number she'd looked deep in his eyes and drank in his fear. Finally she'd understood why he loved to see the fear in her eyes. The sight of another person's fear could be satisfying.
- The kids had returned from various parts of the state to support their mother through what they'd hoped fervently would be a joyous occasion, the death of their father. The hospital staff had told them how lucky they were that Ted had survived. He'd suffered a great deal. The kids could only hope he would suffer more.
- The doctors had done their best for Ted but the prognosis for a full recovery was poor. Ted's brain had suffered quite a bit of damage they had said. They referred to the stroke as left hemiplegia and talked about paralysis of the left side. His speech would be affected by the lack of muscle control, but the language area of his brain was healthy. They talked about spatial and perceptual abilities, possible short term memory loss and a host of information about appropriate rehab care.
- Paralysis: The son had remembered the crushing blow Ted had delivered to his beloved dog, Jett, and the dog's dragging gait and drooling mouth. How ironic he'd thought that Ted was reduced to the same level as that poor mutt.
- The hospital staff knew what a blow Ted's illness would be to his wife who relied upon him to put food on the table. They were all suitably impressed when the son and daughter pronounced they would leave their jobs to come home and take care of things.
- It was just as well they couldn't read the sons thoughts, 'finally get my hands on the place. I'll make it profitable for once in its sorry life.' That agricultural science degree would be put to good use. The daughter was thinking, 'perfect for chardonnay grapes. I'll clear the ground at the back of the farm on the side of the hill. Creek will be good irrigation.' That viticulture degree would be put to good use. How ironic, they both thought, that the degrees Ted had paid not a penny toward would be best put to use on the land that he owned.
- The son settled him in the car with tenderness – the hospital staff was watching. Once the doors were shut and the engine started they pretended he wasn't there. They talked about what improvements they would make to the farm as if he were dead. Furious at their suggestions he tried to quash their ideas, but his dissent was a gurgle they ignored. He thought of his precious ground, and the golden wheat that he harvested and the never ending wide open spaces he walked and in his frustration he spat. They were useless and they'd ruin his precious farm. His daughter shifted to the far side of the backseat of the car, disgusted by the spittle that gushed from his saggy mouth onto his dressing gown.
- They pulled up on the unsealed driveway before the weather board house with the peeling paint and the rusted corrugated iron roof and discussed the possibility of knocking it down. The kids talked about building their mother a house to be proud of now that Ted couldn't harp on about being grateful she had a roof over her head at all.
- They went inside the house and left him in the car. They didn't even bother to look back. He felt the first tear of frustration leak from his eye and he whipped it away with his weak yet functioning right hand. Bastards! He tried to open the car door and will himself to get out, but it was a futile action. Bastards! They'd left him there to rot and he could no more help himself than a newborn babe.
- The son and daughter returned after a time and tossed him like a sack of potatoes into his hospital rented wheel chair. The son sought out every rock and bump to wheel him over and Ted's poor head jerked like a mandarin doll.
- They put him in the sun room and left him there. Ted had a catheter inserted to gather his urine. After a few hours the bag needed changing, he could smell his own stench. He made a gurgled sound, but no one could hear him. All he could do was glare at the dirty window and curse his wife and children.
- For Ted, the first few days away from the hospital and in his families so called care were a nightmare. His family wheeled him to the sunroom each morning and left him there for the entire day, only returning at intervals to shift his position, empty his urine bag or feed him. The exercises the hospital had issued were never done and he couldn't form the words to tell the district nurse who called in on occasion about his degrading treatment.
- Ted was never invited to the dinner table. His wife would feed him a tasteless mash of baby food in the sunroom. Ted would try to feed himself, but she would have none of it and would hold his food out of reach whenever he tried to grab for it. 'You'll only make a mess that I have to clean up,' she'd say in her quiet manner. She tied a bib around his neck to protect his pajamas from spittle and food particles and ignored his hearty protest.
- Ted, frustrated at the indignity of his situation, spat the food out of his saggy old mouth and knocked at her hands with his one weak but mobile arm. His eyes burned with the usual hatred and he gargled obscenities she seemed to understand.
- Ted's wife looked at his defiant gestures and filthy mouth and put the bowl aside. With her hands in her lap she continued to stare at him and watch as he hissed and spat.
- Slowly she rose to her feet and standing above him Ted's timid little wife whispered, 'very well Ted. You don't like your food. Let's see how you like it when you haven't had a bite to eat for 24 hours.' She stared at those eyes remaining defiant at her threat 'Oh yes Ted, I remember a time when you made us watch as you broke the neck of our daughter's pet rabbit. You said you were sick of it shitting on the lawn. Then you made me skin it and cook it and serve it up for dinner. And when none of us could eat it you threatened a beating.' She looked for a sign of remembrance and thought she saw one. 'But you thought better of hitting us. You gave us a more inventive punishment. You forbade us from eating for two days. The kids would cry but you wouldn't back down.' She straightened her back and looked down upon the twisted features. 'You always picked on the weak Ted.' And she walked away.
- Ted remembered that time. He could pick the memory out from a dozen just like it. He'd had a right to do what he'd done. They'd refused good food and as the provider he wasn't about to put up with it. They'd a lesson to learn and he'd taught it. Ted had raged at the empty room. She'd be back. She didn't have the guts to make him starve. But she did.
- That night he lay in bed and raged against the wife and children who had dealt him a multitude of indignities, not the least of which was relegating him to the junk room to sleep. He was segregated from the household and forced to entertain the musing of spiders.
- Tired and hungry as he was Ted's mind would not let him rest, it was too busy cursing the fruit of his loins and the wife who had borne them. As he lay in bed festering in his own misery, he heard the approach of footsteps coming toward his door and in his agitated state he wondered which of his lousy family were coming to disturb him now. He grunted a threat but received no response and he waited for the footsteps to retreat. A long time passed before the doorknob was turned and the door slowly opened, the agony of the rusted metal hinges hurting his ears.
- Ted's breath caught in his throat and he realized for the first time his vulnerable position. What if it was an intruder? How would he defend himself? Not one of his blasted family could hear him from the back of the house. He waited in an agony of suspension, waited for an appearance, but none came and the footsteps retreated as slowly as they had arrived.
- The next morning Ted was exhausted, hungry and unsettled. He demanded to know who had played games with him, but his gurgles and grunts were ignored.
- His wife honoured her promise to let him starve for a day and returned on time with his mash of food. She stood in front of him, the mash tantalizingly close and said, 'I want an apology Ted.'
- Ted thought she couldn't be serious. His mouth salivated.
- 'For traumatizing our kids the day you twisted the rabbit's neck. An apology for starving them until your poor little babies cried in pain.'
- Ted simply stared at her.
- 'You'll not eat this meal if you don't apologise.' His eyes told the story; no matter how hungry he was she'd not hear a word of apology from him. 'You were a bully Ted, not that you care.'
- Ted stared at her in defiance. She could take that meal and shove it. He glared at her face with its crooked nose and wished he could whack it that hard again. He remembered the sound of the crack as the cartilage had snapped and what he wouldn't give to hear that sound once more. 'Take your bloody food,' he gargled. 'You'll regret this woman. I might be damaged now but I'm going to do everything it takes to get back on my feet and when I do….' She couldn't hear him. She'd already left.
- Ted was weaker than normal with hunger and was slumped in his chair when she returned. She made him beg for his meal and gurgle out his apology. Had he not felt so ill he would have refused food and let the authorities see his sorry state. Let the district nurse see what they were doing to him. They'd be sorry when a report of abuse was filed. But he opened his mouth and accepted his mash. She took her time feeding him.
- That night he was awoken by the sound of the bedroom door opening and that terrible feeling of vulnerability returned. For what seemed like an eternity he awaited the presence of another person, but none arrived and his attempted vigilance failed and fatigue plunged him into sleep.
- Ted awoke before dawn with a certainty that someone else was in the room. He felt his body break out in sweat. He scanned the room but saw nothing. A whisper of cold air touched his wet brow. A billow of curtain told him the window was open when it hadn't been before. Ted felt his heart sink like a stone. He was so vulnerable, so vulnerable.
- Like a recurring bad dream the footsteps returned the next night and every night thereafter. Always the door would open. Sometimes he would awaken to discover the window ajar, or his bedclothes removed. Sometimes he was sure he could feel a presence, but he could never see a soul. He would curse his inability to remain awake and his immobility. When angry Ted would wonder which of his miserable family were torturing him. At times he feared he was the victim of someone he had wronged in the community who was out for retribution. A person who knew his circumstances could easily access his house, his room. When frightened he feared the presence of a ghost, or the loss of his sanity.
- When the son arrived and took him outside in the warm morning air Ted felt a surge of relief run through his veins. The boy was chatting about the farm and the improvements he'd made. He almost treated Ted like a mate.
- 'Remember when you built that shed Dad?' He pointed to the work shed not ten metres away.
- Ted remembered. He'd spent weeks knocking that thing together, called in a couple of mates on occasion to help him out. It was a fine piece of work and he dared anyone to disagree.
- 'I remember when it all started Dad.' His boy dropped to his haunches and looked his Dad in the eye. 'I was only eight when you built this. You wanted it to store all your gear in. I've been in it and seen the junk you've piled up. You throw nothing away do you old man?'
- Course he didn't. You never knew when you were going to need something. There were bits of corrugated iron, a role of barbed wire and every nut and bolt he'd ever found.
- 'You wanted your shed right on that spot. Wouldn't put it anywhere else, even though you had a dozen other places you could have put it if you'd wanted to.'
- Ted gurgled a reply. That was where he'd wanted it so that was where it went. He'd never admit now that he would have been better served to build it closer to the tractor shed. He'd always wondered why that hadn't occurred to him at the time.
- 'Yep, you had to have it right on that spot.' The son nodded, his eyes not moving from his father's face, and Ted realized this was no idle chat. He sank back in his wheel chair and eyed his son with suspicion. 'I had a vegetable patch on that spot. I'd cleared the ground, prepared the soil and planted the seeds. Remember Dad?'
- Ted had a vague memory about the vegetable patch but it was foggy and wouldn't clear.
- 'And just when things were close to having grown you decided you wanted that very patch of ground for your bloody shed. You wouldn't put it anywhere else and you teased me about being a nancy for caring about my pathetic little veggie patch. You made me help you tear the whole thing apart and then you made me your lackey.'
- Ted remembered now. His boy had grabbed at his hand and cried and sniffled about his bloody garden. No boy of his was going to cry like that. He was going to teach him a lesson, make him learn what it was like to be a man. So he'd made him pull up the vegetables and run about for nails and tools and clipped him around the ear whenever he started to cry.
- 'Well Dad, here's the thing. I'm tearing your shed down. I've got some guys coming in tomorrow to start. Thought you might like to watch.'
- Ted felt his vision blur and he gasped and spluttered. His shed, his precious shed, and all his stuff! The obscenities flowed from his mouth like tainted wine and he rocked in his wheel chair, exhaustion forgotten, desperate to get to his son and to beat him senseless.
- 'Yep, thought you'd be excited.' The son walked away and left Ted purple and weak with anger.
- After another nightly visit from his ghostly friend Ted was forced to witness the destruction of his precious shed. Ted wanted to choke the life out of his boy but he could only sit limply in his wheel chair and froth at the scene. As he watched the shed being torn from its foundations he wondered what on God's earth he had done to deserve what was happening to him. He'd never done anything to his family that they hadn't deserved. He'd only been out to teach them lessons. That was his job as head of the family. Why was he being punished like this?
- The fight had gone out of him. He was too weary to do more than watch in defeat as his son set about demolishing what was his. He was too weary to protest later as his wife tied the bib around his neck and spoon fed mash into his mouth.
- That night as Ted lay prone on the bed, his body drenched in sweat, the door to the room opened once more. He tried to call out but his throat was dry and he couldn't make a sound. A vision in white entered his room like the ghost he'd so feared. He wheezed and gasped and clutched as his chest as his heart strained and squeezed and shuddered. When he recognized the vision in white as his daughter in her nightdress it was too late. The damage had been done.
- 'Hello Daddy. Are you startled?' Ted's eyes bulged from their sockets. 'Are you frightened?' His terrified eyes pleaded with her for help. He clutched weakly at her arm.
- She leaned forward, her hot breath on his neck. 'Does your heart race knowing I'm here in the middle of the night? Does your breath become painful as you try to stay quiet hoping I'll think you're asleep? Does your body ache as you press yourself into the mattress wishing that you could disappear?'
- Ted gasped for air but none would enter his burning lungs. 'Do you feel vulnerable Daddy?' She began to laugh soft and low.
- Ted listened to the laughter as he began to fade. It was the last sound he heard as the darkness claimed him.
