You would have to look very carefully to see the beginning of Frank’s stroke. As he walked along his mouth started to droop ever so slightly. It’s due to the bitter chill in the air he thought. He quickened his pace to warm up a little to regain his expression but it continued to fall which caused Frank to stop and rub his face, then his arm went numb then . . .
I was walking along on this bitterly cold winter morning and remember thinking god it’s cold today and as the old guy in the large overcoat passed me I glanced at him and thought his face looked odd. Was he pulling a face at me I thought but as he passed I looked back.
Frank’s arms wouldn’t work, his face continued to distort, he realised he was loosing control and a panic set in.
He hit the ground with a dull thud. It was a sickening sound. I stood no more than twenty feet away and watched him fall.
Frank looked blankly at the pavement. From the floor looking along the cold ground Frank realised what was happening. The knowledge eased his panic but the panic was replace by dread as the cold wind and the hard cold pavement remained before him and he was unable to move.
I rushed over and when I got there I will always remember the look on his face. It wasn’t the drooping mouth but his eyes that I will always remember. They had a look of resignation that was so dark and complete and helpless.
A clot had lodged in Frank’s brain and was wringing the life out of his brain, starving him of oxygen and in rapid succession stealing his memories, his speech, his ability to move.
They say a dying man can see his life flash before him but Frank could see his life slip away. As relentlessly memory after memory like falling dominoes falling one by one by one continued to fall.
I could see this in his eyes. I was looking at the last remnants of his soul leave his body as memory after memory was stolen from the old guy in the thick overcoat who lay on the pavement his life dissolving away before me. I pulled my scarf from round my neck and made a pillow for his head and with one hand started to dial 999.
I crouched down on the pavement next to the old guy and watched. It was slow and deadly and merciless. His eyes didn’t look up but along the floor and slowly they started to look like the eyes of a child who cannot fight sleep any longer. I put my hand on his cold forehead and assured him the ambulance was coming. An old lady approach from the other side of the street and when she saw the old guy on the ground with me crouched beside him on the cold pavement she stooped down and gasped, “Frank, oh Frank what’s the matter luv…”
The ambulance arrived, screeched to a halt, the door flung open and a large overweight young man wearing a navy blue jumper slid out with his shirt half out of his trousers he addressed me. “What seems to be the matter?”
I looked up and said, “I think he’s had a stroke.” The old lady sighed.
“Oh Frank, poor Frank,” she said
“Is this your husband luv?” said the other ambulance man.
“He’s my brother,” she said with tears rolling down her face. I looked at her now and saw the resemblance immediately.
“Ok luv,” said the older ambulance man, “He’s in the best hands now.” He’s in the hands of God I thought as they swiftly raised the stretcher. Frank’s eyes were closed now I don’t think he could bear to watch what was happening to him any longer or maybe he had forgotten how to open them or maybe . . .
I felt better about his sister being there but I think he had left this world before she came, I don’t know, but I felt better about her being there. Poor Frank I thought as I walked back to the office, “Been for a walk Mike,” asked Jenny brightly. I heaved a sigh but didn’t answer. “What’s up, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
