Job Vacancy - 5. JV Chapter 5

“Before he left, he told me to get you to grab his suitcase, and bring it with you,” Mrs Hill said as she headed into her living quarters, while I headed to my quarters to grab my mobile phone and wallet, which I should have not left behind, meeting up back in the kitchen, Mrs Hill was on the house phone, ordering a cab.

I was surprised that it took us only fifteen minutes to get to the hospital, and on making enquiries at the emergency department, we were informed that Mr Wright was currently being accessed, in the critical care unit - CCU, on the first floor of this main building, and that we would have to wait, so I gave the receptionist my mobile number and asked to be contacted when he has been accessed before we headed to the nearby café to relax and wait.

Almost three hours later, with it now being nighttime, I received a text message. “Enquiry on condition of Mr Wright, please report to the reception area of Critical Care Unit, 1^st floor.”

I relayed the information to Mrs Hill, and we walked to the elevators and went up to the first floor, and following the signs, we soon arrived at the CCU.

“Good evening, my name is Davies Walker, I am the administrative assistant to Mr Preston Wright, I received a message to come here,” I said to the nurse. “Hello Davies, my name is Nurse Angela, let me check the details for you… now does Mr Wright have any next of kin, and do you know if he has health insurance?” the nurse asked as she checked her computer.

“No, he has no living relations, the closest people to him would be his housekeeper, Mrs Martha Hill, the lady standing just over there, and he has a housekeeper at his house in Pisa, Italy, and me. We are the only three staff that he has, but I have not known him personally for that long,” I replied.

“I see, and health insurance?” the Nurse responded, as Mrs Hill approached, “Check inside the briefcase dear,” Mrs Hill suggested to me, and I lifted the case onto the counter and opened it. Inside was full of folders, and in the top pouch was his passport and several yellow envelopes.

Each envelope had a few words written near the end of each envelope, “Last Will” on one, “Power of Attorney” on another, and “Health” on the last one, and that is the one I picked and carefully opened up. Inside was a certificate of Travel Insurance for himself and me, for six months.

“Yes, he and I have comprehensive health insurance,” I announced to the nurse. “Good, may I have the name of the insurance company, address and phone number, the policy number, and date that it expires please,” the nurse asked me, and after exchanging details, and me filling in several forms, which I had to sign, the nurse said that all was in order and that Mr Wright, was resting comfortably in Room A16, and she pointed the direction of the room.

When we entered the room, which has four hospital beds in it, of which only one other was occupied, we walked up to the bed near the window, where Mr Wright was fidgeting with the tv remote. When he saw us, he smiled and held out the remote to me, which I accepted and flicked through the channels until he nodded his head, that this was the channel he wanted, which was a nature documentary channel.

Seeing that I was holding his briefcase, he patted it a few times with difficulty, and I gently place it on the bed and opened it up. Once open, he pointed to the lid pouch, and I retrieved the three envelopes. “I have already provided all the health insurance information to the nurse in this ward, so you don’t need to worry about that, anything else?” I stated.

Mr Wright smiled, which was a little crooked, which I expected since he had just suffered a stroke. He pointed to the other two envelopes, and I pulled them out, and he pointed to the one in my right hand, which had Power of Attorney written on it. I opened the unsealed envelope and pulling out the document, I opened it up and began to read it.

What surprised me, was that both Mrs Hill and I were listed as Co - Powers of Attorney for Mr Hill, and the document had already been signed by him and a witness, who is listed as Barrister in Perth. I handed the document to Mrs Hill, so she could read it, and she too looked quite shocked at this news.

I looked in the briefcase and retrieved the appointments diary, which I had seen several times since starting work for Mr Wright, and I opened it up for tomorrow, and the next few days, where it was listed for book signings, at several bookstores. I thought for a few moments, before turning to Mr Wright. “I will contact these stores, and cancel your appointments, until such time that you are well enough to return, let’s see what else we have lined up,” I said, and Mr Wright nodded his head yes.

“My word, what am I supposed to do as his power of attorney, I know absolutely nothing about that sort of stuff,” Mrs Hill said to me, and I smiled, “If you are ok with it, I will be able to manage all of the business sides of things, and you can make sure Mr Hill gets better, so he can keep working,” I suggested, as I retrieved my mobile, and began to dial a number for Perth, Western Australia, including the international dialling code, as I looked at my watch to check the time difference between London and Perth.

Realising that it is 2 am there, I hang up the call before it could connect, “I will have to call Perth tomorrow, as it is too early in the morning there at the moment,” I stated. After discussing a few matters, with Mr Hill, to which he responded with a shake or nod of the head, we wished him a restful sleep and headed out of the room.

A doctor was standing at the nurse’s station, and I stopped to speak to him. “Dr, my name is Davies Walters, and this is Mrs Martha Hill, we are the designated powers of attorney for Mr Preston Wright, we will need to return tomorrow to speak to whoever it is we need to speak to about his condition,” I said to the doctor.

“Very well Mr Walters, I will pass the information to Dr Cartwheel when he comes on duty,” the doctor responded before walking off, leaving us just standing there a little surprised at his sudden exit. “I think it is 15 hours - time difference with Canada, so as soon as we get back to the house, I will need to call them,” I said to Mrs Hill as we exited the elevator, and headed for the front door of the hospital.

“What happens with paying off all the bills and such here?” I asked Mrs Hill, as we walked to the cab rank, “He… he sends me housekeeping money every month, along with my monthly wages, and that covers everything for running the house all year round,” Mrs Hill replied.

Back at the house, I headed to the library, where there is a large desk in the middle of the room, with a computer and in the filing drawer, I found several folders, regarding notes on future stories. The desk was where I found the briefcase, and so I presumed that this is where he does most of his work while in London.

Retrieving the phone number of the Calgary contact, I dialled the number and waited for it to connect. “Ashby Law Chambers, how may I direct your call please,” a woman’s voice said.

“Good afternoon, my name is Davies Walters, I am calling on behalf of Mr Preston Wright, may I speak to Mr Ashby please,” I asked, “One moment please,” the woman responded, and I was placed on hold. After a fifteen-minute conversation, I finally got it through to the lawyer, that Mr Wright was ill, and currently in hospital, and that he would not be making the trip to Canada this time.

The lawyer sounded very annoyed at the news, and without any farewell, he abruptly ended the call. I made a note of the time that I made the call, and what had been said on both sides, of the conversation, and I placed it in a folder in the top drawer of the desk.

When I exited the library, I could smell something nice coming from the nearby kitchen, so I headed there. “Just some soup and bread I am afraid, I am too emotionally tired to cook anything else,” Mrs Hill said to me. “That is perfect thankyou Mrs Hill, I had forgotten about dinner until I smelt food and my stomach rumbled” I replied smiling, which made Mrs Hill smile.

After dinner, I wished Mrs Hill a good night and informed her that I would be sleeping in, so she is not bother cooking anything special for breakfast, and I headed out the kitchen door, to the courtyard, and into the lounge of my quarters.

For the next few days, I made daily visits to the hospital, mostly without Mrs Hill, who had a dislike for hospitals, and she kept busy cleaning the house and doing our laundry. I had managed to contact the Barrister in Perth, two days later, at 8 am in London, which was 3 pm in Perth, informing him of Mr Wright having a stroke, and that the specialist doctor that I had spoken to, informed me that Mr Wright had suffered a medium grade stroke, which has left him paralysed on the left side, from head to toe.

I informed him that he was not able to speak, only mumble and that he has only slight movement in his left arm, hand, leg and foot. I also mentioned that I have been made aware of the Power of Attorney document, as has Mrs Hill, and that all appointments for the UK and Canada have been cancelled.

The barrister suggested that I look at Mr Wright’s Will, as I was a benefactor, as is Mrs Hill, and also Mrs De Toni in Italy. He suggested that I put everything on hold in regards to all business that Mr Wright has planned and that we concentrate on getting him well again, and once he is well enough to travel, to bring him home to Perth.

My next call was to the publishers of Mr Wright’s books, to let them know of what has happened, and they were very distraught at the news, that he was ill in a hospital in the UK. I ensured them, that he was getting the best of care, and that once he is well enough to travel, I would bring him home to Perth.

The last call I made was to Louisa De Toni in Pisa, Italy, and she was very upset with the news that Mr Wright was ill. I assured her, that he was being well looked after, and that I would call her every week, to update his progress, which helped her to settle down a little. I assured her that the monthly payments for housekeeping and maintenance would continue to be sent to her, so she didn’t need to worry about losing the house.

A day after informing the publishers in Perth of Mr Wright’s condition, there was a news article online, that I was not too pleased about.

“International Gay Author Gravely ill” was the headline, “According to a news article in Perth, Western Australia, the home city of the famous author, Preston Wright, he is currently gravely ill in hospital in the UK, after suffering a medical condition. According to sources, his health is being closely monitored, by his staff, who are in the UK with him.”

After reading this article, I telephoned the publishers and asked if it was them that released the news of Mr Wright’s illness, and they said they were. I informed them that because they had done this, they would no longer be kept in the loop, on how he is recovering. When they protested that I cannot do this, I informed him that I could and will, as I have power of attorney for Mr Wright, before ending the call abruptly.

Over the next five weeks, I made daily trips to the hospital, and regular phone calls to Pisa, Italy and Perth Western Australia, to keep them updated on his condition, and thanks to the publishers in Perth, who had passed on my phone number, I was now having to deal with the media enquiries from all over Canada, Italy, Australia and the UK, which I was not very happy about. Instead of answering all of their questions, I let the media organisations know that I would release a statement once a week, and that is all.

At that time, Mr Wright concentrated on getting his speech, hand and arm movement back to as normal as possible, so he could resume writing again, as that was his passion, as well as his job. I saw him work damn hard during this time, wanting to get out of the hospital and back to work as soon as possible. It was just three weeks of very intensive speech therapy before we were able to talk reasonably well and well enough for me to understand his instructions.

He chose to remain in the UK for as long as it takes for him to get mobile enough to continue with his work, which includes resuming book tours, which had to be reorganised again. On the day that Mr Wright was released from the hospital, he had improved his speech a lot, enough for me to fully understand him, even though he would get very frustrated on some days when he couldn’t get the words out that he wanted to say to me.

What had not improved was the paralysis in his left leg and foot, which dragged when he used crutches to get around, so he preferred to use the wheelchair, for most of his moving around. Thankfully the house has an elevator, so it would not be an issue, and with the recommendations from Mrs Hill, we had reduced the amount of furniture in a lot of the key rooms in the house, to allow more room for his wheelchair.

Although I sent postcards to my brother every week, I did not indicate that anything was wrong, only that our stay in the UK had been extended, before we commence the tour in Canada. After Mr Wright was back home again, and we had settled into a routine, Mr Wright who is already a dual citizen in the UK, because his mother was born in Scotland, made an application for me to become a permanent resident in the UK, because I was now his chief carer as well as being his administrative assistant, but first I had to apply for a 5-year work visa and to do that an application for a certificate of sponsorship had to be made, now that Mr Wright can sign his name properly again.

Although on paper I was his career, he didn’t need any assistance with taking care of himself, as he had nearly full movement back in his left hand and arm, and he could get himself in and out of bed, dressed, in and out of the bathroom and the shower, and in and out of his wheelchair.

The one thing that was altered, now that he is well again, is that Mr Wright was able to control his business and finances once more, so I was no longer required to be his Power of Attorney, which I didn’t mind, as it was a heck of a lot of work to manage someone's business dealings.

A month after Mr Wright had been discharged from the hospital, we were in the final stages of preparations for a six-week book tour of Canada, with the assistance of a new Canadian literary agent, after I had informed Mr Wright of how the previous one responded when we had to cancel the previous tour, and instead of being based in Calgary, we would spend two to three days in each of the fifteen cities that we would be visiting.

The Canadian cities that the agent had carefully selected are, Richmond and Kamloops in British Columbia, Calgary and Edmonton in Alberta, Saskatoon and Regina in Saskatchewan, Brandon, and Winnipeg in Manitoba, Thunder Bay, Sudbury and Toronto in Ontario, Ottawa and Montreal in Quebec and Fredericton and Saint John in New Brunswick.

These cities were selected because they had a greater number of people who are avid readers of Mr Wright’s books, and I knew that it would be a very long gruelling tour. Apart from book signings, there would also be lectures to university students, and book readings at public libraries, with a maximum of three events on each day at each city, with at least a half-day of rest set aside, to allow us to have a look around the place.

It was costing Mr Wright a staggering $6,300 in agent fees for the six weeks that we would be in Canada, with either the agent, Pete Dunning or his assistant Tulloch, travelling with us at all times. That cost did not include accommodation and meals, which would be extra and would be about the same amount again.

Although the literary agent was not cheap, he is to be one of the best in the country, so Mr Wright had agreed to appoint Pete Dunning as his literary agent in Canada. On the evening before Mr Wright and I were about to board a flight from London to Montreal, Canada, my phone rang, and the caller ID was my brother, which had me very worried. “Hello Aiden, is there anything the…” I stopped when I heard sobbing on the other end of the line, and now I was very worried.

“Ok, calm down a little bit and explain to me what is happening?” I said calmly, and it was a full two minutes later before Aiden had calmed down enough to talk. “It’s our Dad, he went ballistic when he found out that Mum and I have been in regular contact with you for the past few months,” Aiden said.