Todays the day

Outside the early Autumn sun shone through the few remaining leaves on the single tree tall enough to reach this height. It filtered through the slightly grimy window, and the single hanging threadbare curtain. The far corner of the bed now had a single small patch of light in an otherwise grey room. 
The temperature had fallen rapidly, and Dave reached over to close the last inch of the window, stopping the draft before it had gotten the chance to build up a full head of steam. He shivered and turned back to the bed.
At this time in the early evening, the corridor outside began to get quieter, as day visitors left for the night, and the only noise was the meal cart wheeling along from the lift at the end. He could watch them through the large single sheet of glass along the wall of the cramped room. Through the viewing window he could see the lone nurse idly flicking through a celebrity magazine.
Helen had lain in this room for what felt like many weeks now, but had only been 10 days. The machines gathered around the bed kept her alive, a constant beeping and whirring showing how they performed their life saving function. 
A tube in her throat kept her breathing and more tubes pumped fluid into her arms. A readout flashed red behind the head of the bed, mounted on a high wheeled stand. It was the only colour contrasting the flaking paint. 
After a long day, the plastic chair was hurting, and he stood to stretch. Arching his back, he could see school children heading home, running ahead of their mothers. As always Dave couldnt understand how the world kept moving outside the walls of the building they were in. How were people living their normal lives while his wife was lying here?
Dave idly turned a styrofoam cup over in his hands, eventually bending down to pick up a discarded bag on the floor, popping them both in the bin. Through the viewing window he could see Pablo the nurse gathering his papers on a clipboard, readying the next observation of Helen. Any minute the doctor would appear, flanked by an ever changing phalanx of nurses and junior doctors, their positioning very much status driven. Dave expected a familiar discussion, with plenty of nodding, furious note taking, prodding and examining of readouts, after which the group would leave, and Pablo would throw his hands in the air, and proclaim “Doctors” before grinning at Dave and explaining that the whole discussion unfortunately meant that only small progress was being made, and that Helen would be on the same routine for another day.
Dave hated this. It felt like they were just kicking the can down the road, and he was a man that wanted action, and wanted the doctors to do something, anything and fix Helen. It was frustrating not knowing when or how she would recover.
Pablo pushed open the door, a fresh mask hooked over his ears. Even with the fabric strip, Dave could tell he was smiling.
“Today will be the day, Dave, I can tell”
Dave smiled weakly.
“I hope so Pablo, I hope so”
“How are you doing, dear?” Pablo spoke to Helen, walking to the machine behind Helens head, and checking the wires were secure, pulling it round the side of the bed more. He punched a button, and in the viewing station, a printer shuddered into life, spools of paper rolling onto the desk. 
The nurse went and picked them up, shuffling to align the edges, just in time to hand to the specialist walking through the door, the daily rounds kicked off.
Mr Banns took a brief look through the sheaf of papers, nodding slightly, and then quickly handing them back to Pablo. His gaze briefly settled on Dave, before he leant over Daves wife, pulling up her eyelids and shining a torch in the pupils.
“Small dilation at light, more than previously” he monotonously intoned, a neighbouring trainee doctor writing down his every utterance, her pen flicking across the spiral bound notebook. “Breathing stronger, brain responsiveness increased. Positive signs of progress”
This last remark had been aimed at Dave. It even seemed like a smile formed on Mr Banns thin lips, the corners of the mouth curling slightly up. However this attempt at empathy made Daves skin crawl.
“Thats good” was all he could say in reply.
“Lets get moving on bringing her round” Mr Banns said, turning to face the group stood around him. “I think tonight. Lets strike while she is improving”
Daves heart skipped, almost jumping out of his chest. Time slowed to half speed, and he watched as more nurses hurried into the room, propping up Helen, and pulling out more medical supplies.
Pablo pulled him to oneside, out of the path of a large heavyset nurse with a metal trolley groaning with bowls. She grunted in thanks.
One of the people walking through the door was his mother-in-law. She was accompanied by  two of Helens cousins. Dave hugged her, and smiled.
“They are going to bring her round”
Just those six words leavened the tension, and the family all sat down, their chairs set back from the action. Dave glanced at his watch. 
It wouldnt be long until the children needed to be collected from the childminder, and he liked to try and keep things as normal as possible for them while their mother was in hospital. They did visit her at the weekends, but the evenings were a step too far. At 5 and 9 they understood a little, and his parents were there for the heavy lifting during the day, but he still felt they needed to see him at a minimum.
The timing tonight seemed a little unfair. Every day seemed a little unfair on their small family. Every day brought the potential for a relapse, or a further spread of the disease. Their mother could fall at any time, her heart could give out with the strain of keeping her alive. That had been the concern nearly two weeks ago, when Helen had complained of shortness of breath, and pains in her back.
They had naively thought it was a sign of a back problem, and tried to treat it with heat packs, but after a night of being unable to sleep, a trip to A&E had led them down a path neither of them had wanted to tread. Eight long hours after being seen by a triage nurse, Dave and Helen were sat in a darkened room on the fourth floor of a crumbling hospital, taking turns to hold an breathing mask over Helens face, as her oxygen levels fell rapidly below 10%. 
Dave sat in stunned silence as the doctor had spoken to them in hushed tones, trying not to disturb the elderly woman snoring in the neighbouring booth.
“We think that the immunisation drugs you are on have stopped working, and your body is having a reaction. Basically your body is now fighting itself. We need to move you to a hospital with better respiratory care. We dont have the facilities here, and you will get better care in Tooting. But we are not sure the oxygen tank will last for the journey, and you are still lacking in full lung capacity. So we are going to have to put you into a coma for the journey.”
Helens eyes widened behind the mask, her hand gripping Daves tighter and tighter, leaving red nail marks. He looked at her through wet eyes, barely able to speak.
“It will be fine. I know you, you’re a fighter.” 
He attempted a weak smile of assurance, but while his words spoke positively, his own heart was falling into his stomach. As Helen passed him her wedding and engagement rings for safe keeping, he had to keep glancing away, biting his cheek. 
A nurse came over, and Dave kissed his wife on her forehead, before she was wheeled away. He watched her disappear through a door, before a second nurse put her hand on his shoulder, squeezing slightly, eventually wordlessly drifting off to another patient. Dave stood and gathered all of their bags, unsure quite what to do, a hole in his body growing with every minute. The rings jingled slightly in his pocket as he bent over.
The next day had been a blur of settling Helen in, masks and gowns being worn, before she had been rolled into the intensive care room. Then had begun the day in day out commute, and the day in day out worry of what might be round the corner. Until now. With the promise of Helen being brought back to consciousness, there seemed to be some light at the end of the tunnel.
Dave rushed to the station, jumping on the train to get to the children at home eating their tuna pasta. He sat slumped into a corner seat, twiddling his thumbs and scratching at the back of his hand, wishing the train would move faster. Wishing the hours would move faster until the nightmare was over.
His phone rang midway between stations. His mother in law was on the other end, the connection so bad he could barely hear her.
“Dave. Can you hear me? Are you sitting down?”
He nodded, then realised and gulped a yes in response.
“They have woken Helen up, and it was going well, but then…..”
The line broke up as the train pulled into the next station, words disappearing into the void as his mother-in-law spoke. A group of teenagers clattered through the doors, a phone speaker tinnily playing a pounding dance beat, while excited chatter took over the whole carriage. Dave curled himself away from the noise, and pushed the handset into his ear.
“I cant hear you Sarah, what did you say?”
“They brought her round, but the…it was too quick…..a bubble….stroke”
“How is she?” Dave almost shouted, causing at least one of the teenagers to look round.
“She is unconscious again, Dave. The doctors are unsure….”
For the second time today, Daves heart flipped, but this time for the wrong reason. Had he heard correctly?
In the hospital room, Pablo stood by the three women, all alone gathered around Helens bed. The panic of the last few minutes had gone, the tornado of action blown past, and the four of them were unsure what had just happened. The oxygen had been sucked out of the room, leaving a void into which questions now started to flood into. 
Helen had been slowly coming round, the tubes removed slowly from her throat as her brain began the tentative process of driving her body to breathe for itself. The first intakes of air had come hesitantly, deepening with every exhale. Her eyelids had begun to flutter, the change in drugs pushing consciousness back into her arm, spreading across her chest and through her whole body.
As her eyes opened, a gasp could be heard, and Sarah clutched her hand, soft tears rolling down each cheek. Helen tried to look round, her neck muscles unsure of the work involved, but she could see her mum, and her fingers gripped Sarahs hand a little stronger. The corners of her mouth curled up, and she opened her lips to try and croak some words.
“Slowly Helen” said a nurse, stepping forward with a small cup of water and a sponge. She helped Helen take a sip, not too much, and wiped the dribble away. Helen breathed a heavy sigh, and settled deep into the pillow. 
Her eyes looked at everyone in the small room, settling on her cousins, confusedly looking at all the different nurses, and plate glass window, the shock from the last things she had seen palpable. Lastly she looked at Sarah, and squeezed her hand more. 
But the squeezing grew stronger, and as Sarah turned to a nurse, Helens eyes rolled back into her head, her back and neck arching as her body became gripped by a massive convulsion. Her head slammed into the bed, and the nurses shot forward, pushing the family away, and holding her head from hitting the bed frame. 
Swiftly the intravenous drug was changed, and at last Helen calmed down, the stiffness in her body gone, and she was back into a deep induced sleep. 
Rain began to lash against the window, a storm building up that would cause rivulets of water to gush down the pane, but inside no one noticed. Their storm had just subsided, and none of them knew what would come next.