Don't Leave Me This Way: Or When I Get Back on My Feet You'll Be Sorry by Julia Fox Garrison Page B
Authors: Julia Fox Garrison
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choosing to howl like that. The Wailer is driving her roommate, and you, and everyone else on the floor absolutely mad. And she is doing it on purpose.
She howls out again, and breaks into little sobs.
“What a bitch,” you hear yourself say.
Pardon Me, but You’re Incompetent
YOU ARE IN A HOSPITAL BED. Again. The halls are empty and quiet. Must be a weekend or late at night. Or both.
A young male Asian nurse is by your side, attempting to draw blood. You can’t believe the pain; he’s missing the vein, he’s using a heavy-gauge needle, and he’s obviously inexperienced with difficult veins, which, you have learned in recent months, you have. He seems to imagine that you are a bolt of fabric being pinned into clothing.
“What time is it?” you ask. There’s no window in this room.
“A little after two in the morning,” he says.
“Is there another nurse on call?”
He looks up from your arm and stares at you.
“Why?”
“Just tell me whether there’s another nurse available, okay?”
Silence.
“I guess so.”
You look him in the eye. “You have to stop. I’m sorry, but I need you to get the most experienced phlebotomist you can. You’re not having much success with this blood draw, and you’re really hurting me.”
You don’t know why you feel you have to apologize for his ineptitude, but it seems to make your request a little nicer.
A Lot of Fuktion
JIM IS CONCERNED about your separation from Rory. He goes to great lengths to make sure Rory sees you regularly. He makes attempts to keep it light for Rory by bringing in books for you to read to him in your bed.
“Look, Mommy, I brought you Elmo to keep you company so you won’t be lonely,” Rory exclaims excitedly as he enters your room. “He has a boo-boo on his head too and he needs to stay in the hospital with you until you both get better.”
You eye Elmo’s red, furry, limp body. There’s a Band-Aid on his head. It makes your eyes well up, and you smile at the same time.
“Well, we’re both going to get better real soon. What book did you bring for me to read to you?”
He hands you Bob the Builder and Jim props him up next to you in bed. You have difficulty balancing the book with one hand, and you can’t turn the pages.
“Rory, can you help read the book with me and turn the pages?”
“I don’t want to read my books here,” he says. “I want you to read them to me at home.”
You glance at Jim, whose face is stony and sad.
“Right now,” you say, “we get to read stories in this special bed together—but only for a little while. Look at this magical bed, the buttons make it go up and down.” You show him the buttons and his attention is diverted to pushing the head up and the feet down. He’s thrilled with the buttons, and delights in the ride he’s giving you.
MOM TELLS YOU that Rory has made a habit of asking which hospital he’ll be going to today, and it makes you feel helpless and sad. On one visit Rory notices all the construction activity happening around the hospital, shakes his head, and matter-of-factly states, “There’s sure lots of fuktion going on around here.”
It seems accurate enough.
BACK WHEN YOU WERE WORKING FULL-TIME, you felt guilty shuffling him off to your friend Berbie’s or your mom’s. You’d have a Friday-night date night where you and he would have a burger in the food court and then go for a ride on the merry-go-round in the pavilion. Now you have a completely different set of guilty feelings. Back then, you could have changed the workaholic behavior, but you didn’t. Now there seems to be nothing at all you can do to improve the time you spend with him.
Honey
WHAT IS THAT thing behind the wall? That thing is beautiful, but what does it do, and how does it make the wall shudder that way?
Window shut. Night dark. The ward is quiet, humming at you softly. The wall vibrates and breathes in and out and wisps into a fog and then behind it are two eyes.
Oh,
She howls out again, and breaks into little sobs.
“What a bitch,” you hear yourself say.
Pardon Me, but You’re Incompetent
YOU ARE IN A HOSPITAL BED. Again. The halls are empty and quiet. Must be a weekend or late at night. Or both.
A young male Asian nurse is by your side, attempting to draw blood. You can’t believe the pain; he’s missing the vein, he’s using a heavy-gauge needle, and he’s obviously inexperienced with difficult veins, which, you have learned in recent months, you have. He seems to imagine that you are a bolt of fabric being pinned into clothing.
“What time is it?” you ask. There’s no window in this room.
“A little after two in the morning,” he says.
“Is there another nurse on call?”
He looks up from your arm and stares at you.
“Why?”
“Just tell me whether there’s another nurse available, okay?”
Silence.
“I guess so.”
You look him in the eye. “You have to stop. I’m sorry, but I need you to get the most experienced phlebotomist you can. You’re not having much success with this blood draw, and you’re really hurting me.”
You don’t know why you feel you have to apologize for his ineptitude, but it seems to make your request a little nicer.
A Lot of Fuktion
JIM IS CONCERNED about your separation from Rory. He goes to great lengths to make sure Rory sees you regularly. He makes attempts to keep it light for Rory by bringing in books for you to read to him in your bed.
“Look, Mommy, I brought you Elmo to keep you company so you won’t be lonely,” Rory exclaims excitedly as he enters your room. “He has a boo-boo on his head too and he needs to stay in the hospital with you until you both get better.”
You eye Elmo’s red, furry, limp body. There’s a Band-Aid on his head. It makes your eyes well up, and you smile at the same time.
“Well, we’re both going to get better real soon. What book did you bring for me to read to you?”
He hands you Bob the Builder and Jim props him up next to you in bed. You have difficulty balancing the book with one hand, and you can’t turn the pages.
“Rory, can you help read the book with me and turn the pages?”
“I don’t want to read my books here,” he says. “I want you to read them to me at home.”
You glance at Jim, whose face is stony and sad.
“Right now,” you say, “we get to read stories in this special bed together—but only for a little while. Look at this magical bed, the buttons make it go up and down.” You show him the buttons and his attention is diverted to pushing the head up and the feet down. He’s thrilled with the buttons, and delights in the ride he’s giving you.
MOM TELLS YOU that Rory has made a habit of asking which hospital he’ll be going to today, and it makes you feel helpless and sad. On one visit Rory notices all the construction activity happening around the hospital, shakes his head, and matter-of-factly states, “There’s sure lots of fuktion going on around here.”
It seems accurate enough.
BACK WHEN YOU WERE WORKING FULL-TIME, you felt guilty shuffling him off to your friend Berbie’s or your mom’s. You’d have a Friday-night date night where you and he would have a burger in the food court and then go for a ride on the merry-go-round in the pavilion. Now you have a completely different set of guilty feelings. Back then, you could have changed the workaholic behavior, but you didn’t. Now there seems to be nothing at all you can do to improve the time you spend with him.
Honey
WHAT IS THAT thing behind the wall? That thing is beautiful, but what does it do, and how does it make the wall shudder that way?
Window shut. Night dark. The ward is quiet, humming at you softly. The wall vibrates and breathes in and out and wisps into a fog and then behind it are two eyes.
Oh,
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