Please Let It Stop (16 page)

The following day Julie was leaving on a two-week tour of the UK, launching the new Ann Summers catalogue. As her PA, Tracy was meant to accompany her but rang at around 9am, too poorly to attend. At this stage Julie had no idea of absolutely
everything
that had gone on, so when Tracy resigned she did not accept. Tracy joined the tour that night and was, as they say in the tabloids, ‘tired and emotional’. The following day Julie heard about all the events and comments Tracy had shared with the assembled crowd the previous night. Not unfairly, she decided Tracy’s position was untenable and ordered a taxi for one!

Amid the chaos that Tracy was creating that day and the joy of seeing my sister so happy, I felt uncharacteristically edgy, almost on the verge of panic. Vanessa’s wedding had meant I would see my abuser again. I knew he would be there and, as I always did on the rare occasions I saw him, I psyched myself up. This time, however, I was feeling more anxious than I’d ever felt previously. I knew it was down to more than the impending meeting with John. The stress of my forthcoming IVF treatment and all the preliminaries we’d had to go through so far was affecting me. For the first time in ages I was feeling worn out. I was also starting to feel like I was less in control of my life than I had been for a long time. Of course, being me, I didn’t dwell on it too much and just got on with what I had to do. As I’d expected, I did come face to face with John at the wedding.
I avoided looking in his direction throughout but his audacity always amazed me. The fact that he’d abused me and knew I didn’t want him near me did not stop him coming up to say hello. More than that, he would go to kiss me on the cheek and in one of those Princess Diana/Prince Charles moments, I would turn my head to avert it. With people standing around, it was embarrassing for everybody. Even though nobody, except perhaps my mother, knew the real reason why I avoided him, they were visibly uncomfortable. But their discomfort was minute compared to the way he made me feel.

What I wasn’t prepared for was seeing him twice in the same week. I had no idea he would be at my Aunt Marie’s sixtieth birthday party a few days later, otherwise I would not have gone. When he walked in and I saw him, my heart started pounding, and I suddenly felt very ill and weak. My whole body felt like I was being prodded by needles and my nerves were so on edge. I suppose this is what they mean by your skin ‘crawling’. My chest was hurting and I went hot, then cold. I later found out I was having a full-on panic attack. If you don’t know what it is, you’re likely to think you’re having a heart attack. For some people the attacks happen quite frequently and can be so debilitating they are unable to function in their day-to-day lives. For me there was a definite feeling of loss of control and I asked Dan to take me home. Dan did not understand the severity of my reaction, but instinctively knew that something was
seriously wrong and we left the party early. That night I did what I had avoided doing for years: I told him about my abuse. It was the first time I had ever told anyone properly and once it was in the open I told Vanessa as soon as she got back from honeymoon. It was hard because I thought Vanessa was fully aware from the things I had said over the years, but in reality she had no idea of how bad it really was. Dan’s reaction was completely different to what I had expected. He was, of course, shocked but so understanding and wonderful. He was also incredibly upset and angry for me and wanted to go over to Mum’s house and confront John there and then. This was the first time someone had shown they wanted to protect me. For so long I had wanted someone close to me to understand my pain. Dan is not a violent person but I knew from his anger that if John had walked in the door at that moment he would have beaten the hell out of him. For the first time I felt my feelings had been validated.

We were able to look forward to and enjoy another cosy Christmas with Dan’s family and then, in January, it was time for my first IVF treatment. Prior to the treatment it was suggested we see a counsellor who specialised in talking to couples undergoing IVF, apparently all part of the process. Initially neither Dan nor I saw the benefits in doing this, but we were keen to do the right thing and we were put in touch with someone. I wasn’t sure what we were
expected to talk about but it didn’t matter since it was a thoroughly demoralising experience. In my view the counsellor was useless. Actually she was worse than useless: she totally lacked empathy and showed very little interest in how we were feeling. She seemed to have her own agenda, and her method of questioning (or what passed for counselling) was verging on adversarial.

Understandably, we were both anxious but we went into the session thinking that we would be in the care of someone who was accustomed to dealing with that. To this day I cannot understand what she was hoping to achieve when she asked me, ‘What is it about being over forty that bothers you?’ Dan and I just looked at each other and he held my hand, as if to reassure me. I told her that I didn’t have a problem at all. I just could not understand where that question had come from since nowhere along the line had I expressed any concerns about my age. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘it bothers most people so why wouldn’t it bother you?’ I told her it didn’t. By this time I was starting to feel upset but I remained calm. I told her that my age had never bothered me and that I felt good about being forty-two, not just emotionally but physically as well. She seemed to want to go on the attack and said, ‘You’re very intense aren’t you? I want you to know you don’t intimidate me, Jacqueline.’

I was shocked. I hadn’t tried to intimidate her. I had not brought up the subject of my age. When she had raised it, I had said clearly that it was not a problem. I took a deep
breath and told her that she must find me intimidating, otherwise she wouldn’t have said that. I wondered whether she knew who I was and was behaving aggressively as a result of preconceived ideas she had about me. I also took the opportunity to remind her that she was supposed to be the expert. I was just a mere patient. She was really agitating me now but she seemed determined to persist in a condescending and unhelpful manner. Turning her attention to Dan, she asked, ‘How does it feel to be a failure?’ I was appalled and suddenly felt very protective of Dan. ‘How can you say that? He’s not a failure. What are you trying to do?’ The end of the appointment came and she actually had the nerve to try and book another one. We declined and walked out.

We were both very upset. Rightly or wrongly, people like doctors and counsellors occupy an elevated place in society. Their behaviour should be of the highest standard but sadly it often isn’t. Again I thought about all the other couples who had to go through this. For many this would be the first time they had really put themselves on the line in their lives, exposing their emotions to others. If they were going to meet with the response I’d had, I despaired. As I’ve said earlier, it’s my view there are many deficiencies in the way the whole IVF process is handled. The discussions rarely mention the pressure it can place on a couple’s relationship. It’s something that should be addressed. Couples need to know that they may end up questioning
everything about their relationship, a relationship that was probably looking very solid before they started. They will dissect their reasons for having IVF and their reasons for being together. Both individually and together they will find that hope can quickly give way to despair. If they are lucky and can maintain their perspective, then they will survive, regardless of whether or not the IVF works. If not, well, they could end up in even greater despair.

While we were waiting for the results of the IVF treatment, I received a rare telephone call at home from John. He told me that Mum had been coughing up blood so he’d called an ambulance to take her to Bromley Hospital. He didn’t sound particularly concerned; in fact, he was very dismissive of her, saying that she was being silly since it was only a bit of blood. He wasn’t going to the hospital and would let the ambulance take her instead. I called Vanessa and we both rushed to the hospital. Mum was very quiet and nervous. She looked so scared and vulnerable.

Four years earlier, in 1999, we had gone through a similar scenario which also began with Mum coughing up blood. Then it had turned out she had a stomach ulcer. After giving birth to Vanessa, Mum contracted rheumatoid arthritis which had gradually caused her hands and feet to become deformed. The doctors had prescribed the drug Voltarol and it’s likely that her long-term use of this may in turn have caused the ulcer. While she was in hospital, the
ulcer burst. Mum lost a lot of blood and nearly died. She was in intensive care for three days and I don’t think Vanessa and I realised how close we were to losing her. Mum was terrified of hospitals and needles, and you even had to coax her to visit a GP.

Yet even that did not account for her strange behaviour while she was recovering from the ulcer. She would suddenly start talking nonsense, saying things like, ‘I went down the river today and had a picnic.’ Another time she looked around the ward and asked, ‘Who are those strange men over there?’ ‘They’re not men, Mum, they’re female patients.’ Back then she would become very agitated and confused. I had to spend time talking to her and calming her down so they could give her injections. One night she completely lost control and ripped out all her tubes and her catheter. It was horrible. I asked the doctor why she was behaving so strangely and he said it might be a consequence of the blood transfusion. I didn’t buy that. There was much more going on. Looking back, what we were witnessing was the beginnings of senile dementia. It’s not something you immediately think of, especially as she was only in her early sixties. It is, however, common in people who drink a great deal. What we didn’t know at the time was that Mum had been drinking up to three-quarters of a bottle of gin a day, which over time would have contributed to her early dementia. We didn’t realise she had been drinking so much until the doctor asked if she was a heavy
drinker as she had the shakes. After that period in hospital for the sake of her health, Mum’s doctor advised her to stop drinking. Mum immediately gave up, which shocked us but we were also very proud of her.

Now we were here again, waiting to find out what was wrong with our mother. I’d been waiting for what seemed like hours with Mum while she was initially being examined, when Vanessa suddenly rushed in to warn me that John was at the hospital and was on his way up in the lift. I immediately panicked and ran out of the room in the opposite direction to where we came in. I managed to find another way out. I would go to any lengths to avoid my abuser. Meanwhile, Mum would be having more tests. It looked like it might be something more than a stomach ulcer this time.

Not long after we received the news of Mum’s illness, we found out that our first IVF attempt had failed. Dan became very down about it. It was awful hearing the news but I remained positive about our future chances. He was taking it very hard and I remember him saying to me one day, ‘If it wasn’t for your age we would be fine.’ I was very hurt by his remark. I said it wasn’t about my age, reminding him that the doctor had pronounced my eggs in excellent condition. I told him that was just the way it was. Life cannot always be explained and trying to create a new life even less so.

Dan’s inability to cope with adversity was possibly a result of him having led a reasonably charmed life. He was lucky enough to be born with good looks, he was part of a loving, secure family who had always paid him lots of attention and his dad was the sort of person who sorted things out and smoothed the way. He had a good job, he’d had no problem with meeting attractive women and, up till now, life had been good to him. He didn’t know what it was like to fight or struggle for anything and he was finding it hard to cope with this challenge. It may sound like a cliché but it is also true that when you have been through adversity, it helps you appreciate the good things in life. Even with all the success I had, I would still wake up and look around my bedroom and think, ‘I’m so lucky being in this beautiful house.’ Dan found it frustrating that he could not be the same way and would simply say, ‘I can’t feel what you feel about life. I wish I could but I don’t know how to.’ Dan’s comment about my age severely knocked my confidence yet I was still making allowances for him. In effect, I was making excuses for him and trying to protect him. I knew I was naturally more positive so I tried to compensate for him not being the same way. It wasn’t as if I wasn’t hurting too and he was the only one going through it but I suppose it’s the way with women – we continue to give support even when we’re crying out for it ourselves.

I think Dan was doing his best – in the only way he knew how – to cope with things, and in the middle of what had
been a hellish start to the year, he decided to take me away for Valentine’s weekend. We were awaiting the results of the tests being done on Mum so things were very tense indeed. Perhaps a weekend away was just the tonic we needed. Dan did things properly and he took me to Bath, where we stayed at The Royal Crescent Hotel. The hotel was luxurious, but in an elegant, understated way, and it had everything you could possibly want for a romantic weekend. At one point several months earlier he’d asked me if I wanted to get married or go for IVF treatment first. I said we should do the IVF first. I don’t know why but for some reason I had this thought that Dan was taking me away to propose to me – which he didn’t. When we got home I was very disappointed and inwardly upset that he hadn’t proposed. Reflecting on it now, I think that one of the reasons was that I was going through such a stressful time, and I just wanted something nice to happen. In the space of a few short months I’d had to endure the hell of seeing John twice, undergone an unsuccessful IVF attempt and some rather indifferent counselling that left me feeling drained and had to deal with Dan’s negativity.

And now Mum was dying. We found out she had unspecified cancer and it was raging all through her body. When we first heard the news, Vanessa and I immediately went to see Mum. I remember standing in her kitchen and seeing this terrified look on her face. It was heartbreaking as she looked at me as if to say, ‘You have always fixed things in the
past, please fix this for me.’ I knew for the first time ever I couldn’t. There was absolutely nothing I could do.