For such a young woman.

But choices and individuals and well, policy.

Alex stared at them like a clownfish.

‘Today is manic in Hospital,’ said Ms Jo Moran. ‘Sorry, but we will try to keep your wife stable and comfortable here, and now, don’t … try to talk, Sinéad … just rest … OK?’

I tried to speak.

‘It’ll be a while before you can talk again,’ Moran smiled, looking down over me as she was tucking some hair behind her ear and settling the stethoscope on her neck. ‘The tube may have damaged the vocal cords … I know there’s plenty you will need to discuss with me … but try and rest … later we can talk.’

‘What?’ Alex shouted, moving out from Margaret Rose’s grip and approaching her, his eyes dancing. ‘Will it, is it … you know, will she be able to speak?’ He had a dry mouth, staring at Moran’s scope. And Moran went on. Thankfully they didn’t need to leave it in. Or fully intubate me. Bate me. Yet. But it was time we both had a chat. For that’s end/end. End/end/end tube. Poor fucken choice of words, doc. In the meantime she would leave a writing pad for me. And they would all accept my wishes, whatever they might be. She pressed treatment. Urgently, if at all. But urgent. Again. Choices. Respect.

‘Is she a Mormon or a Jehovah’s Witness?’ Necktie again. Christ.

‘What the fuck?’ Alex said, his jaw dropping open. ‘Who the fuck are you?’

‘I’m Mr …’

‘And what the fuck is it to you … She’s a … She’s a, you know, like you, I mean, me. Like me.’ Then he screamed into his hands and began shaking his head. ‘She’s a fucking atheist. I mean an atheist. Sorry. I have no problem with her being … I mean, I’m an atheist myself … Christ.’

‘You sure she’s not religious? This seems conscientious.’

‘Conscien … What is wrong with you?’ Alex squared up to him and shouted again, ‘What? What are you saying to me?’ Alex was eyeballing Necktie now and Moran put her arm up, nodded at Necktie to leave, swirling her head to the door to give him directions on the fastest way out. Necktie muttered things as he obeyed, walking away. Well, in any case. An awful pity. But this is hers. Choice. She made it. We are all here for you and the children. Here’s the bell. Lingering. The bell. Oh, yeah, sure. And he took a grasp of it as though he were now also a patient.

‘You OK?’ Moran said to Alex. ‘Maybe someone could make you a cup of tea?’

‘Tea? What? No, no. No tea. I’m, I mean …’

‘Watching someone crash like that is an awful shock, but she’s … she’s OK now. She seems out of danger. For now.’ Moran focused on the machines, lifted a line coming from me, rolled her thumb along the little white roller to speed up the liquid, then squeezed the bag.