"Mack, why am I so tired all the time?"
"You just had major brain surgery, so your mind likes to shut down to regenerate. And you’re on an emotional roller coaster right now, totally out of your comfort zone, so again, your body needs to shut down, to 'recharge' if you will... How did I do Kayla?"
"Not bad, for a doctor," she shrugs. God, they are so cute. I hope they go out together.
"Would you like to rest for a little while? It's only 3pm, so there’s still a lot of time to talk later. You seem to only sleep for an hour or two at a time."
"Yes, thank you. Mack, I promise I'll talk when I wake up."
"No problem. But I have to ask, may I record you when we talk? I know you probably hate the idea, but it would be very helpful if you were recorded relaying certain information regarding your choice of psychiatrist, rather than me merely repeating it- It’s kind of a hearsay element I don’t want working against me when I try to help you against your family tomorrow."
Oh shit. Record me talking about that stuff? "Um... Who will hear it?"
"Just you and I... Or anyone you give me express permission to allow to hear it. Until you do, it's just you and I, like I've told you from the start. Remember the ‘Doctor/Patient Confidentiality’ I told you about? That applies to any recordings as well."
"Okay. I guess. I mean if you think it will help."
"I do." Well, that's that then.
"I'll check in on you later, okay? And no worries, I won’t ever tell anyone about anything you have or will discuss with me. I like you, and I'm not a bitch, I’m just a smartass... So your secrets are safe with me, okay?"
"Thank you, Kayla. Um, you're very kind."
"Just don't tell anyone..." and smiling she leaves my room.
I am so tired now. I don't even feel my body anymore. Hey! Why haven't I eaten in like, forever?
"Ah, Mack. I don't think I've eaten in a long time, like early yesterday, I think."
"You’re back on a drip because you can't hold anything down yet. If you can make it through to tonight without gagging or vomiting, I’ll feed you real food, I promise. Anything you want. You name it, I'll get it. Sound good?"
"Very."
"I'll see you soon. Rest well. I'll send the nurse with more pain medication for you."
After mere minutes, swallowing more pills, and a deep exhale, my body instantly feels the pull for sleep. Closing my eyes, I know I'm done.
CHAPTER 27
Waking, my room is silent. Looking around, I see I'm alone again. I'm starting to like alone. I don't have to say or do anything when I'm alone. No one makes me tell them things and I don't even have to think about all that awful stuff when I'm alone.
I really need to get out of here though. I need my own space; somewhere to just think, alone. Somewhere other than this hospital, or Chicago, or even New York, I guess. I need a get-away, something that is just for me. Somewhere that's all mine. That's all I need for now. I'll deal with all this other stuff after I have a little alone time.
Leaning over the side rail, I finally figure out which button actually lowers the bed and rail. It's amazing how complicated it is. All the tubes and wires are on my left side, so I turn to my left. Damn. My head is still pounding, and I'm a little dizzy from just this slight movement too.
With my feet nearly touching the floor, I look at the tubes. Ew. Catheter tube and bag of pee. That is just so gross, but I don't really know how to remove a catheter, so I'll have to wait for Kayla to do it later.
Looking at my hand, I decide to pull out the intravenous wire. How hard can it be? Holding my breath, I pull the needle out of my hand, and watch as a small dot of blood forms. Huh. That wasn't bad.
Opening my gown, I see the little heart stickers, which are also not a big deal. These are just stuck to me with adhesive. Pulling both off, the machine makes some noise. The monitor has many buttons, but only one that actually has a 'heart' picture on it, so holding my breath again, I push the button and... silence. Yes!
My bandaged hand is hurting, and my head is screaming from all this work, but I feel kind of excited too. I just want my own clothes. That's all. I hardly think that's too much to ask for. Right? Christ! Who the hell am I talking to? Myself? Shit. I'm still doing it. Stop. Focus on the job at hand.
I'll leave the pee bag on the sides of the bed, for now. Looking down, I gently push my hips closer to the edge, and let my left foot touch the floor. Oh. It's freezing. My feet love this! Pushing further, I force both feet on the floor. I'm standing. This is easy. Holding onto the railing, I put all my weight solidly on the floor, and I actually hold. I'm fine. Now I just have to take a step or two.
Slowly, I push my right foot forward and it holds. Following, with my left foot, it works too! I'm steady enough to move across the room I think. I'll just go slow, and try to use furniture and my arms to hold me up safely. So far so good. At least now I know I can walk. Another potential disaster averted. My mother would freak out if I couldn't walk.
Unhooking the pee bag and holding it tightly at the un-peed top part, I slowly, tentatively, make my way around the room. Gripping the chair, and then the walls, I'm going to make it. I'll try the skinny little closet where Z kept his blanket. That’s got to have my clothes.
When I finally get there, which honestly feels like it took me hours, I'm just exhausted. What the hell do I do now? I don't want help, but I can't even imagine walking all the way back to the bed. I'm just too tired.
Opening the door to the skinny closet, I see my clothes. Yes! There's my blacks. All neatly hung up. All beautiful. God, I love black clothes. They hide every nook and cranny, every cellulite bump, and any extra fat I own. Black clothes can even make flabby arms seem toned. Black clothes are awesome!
With the catheter, there is really only one option. Though it seems silly, what else can I do? Sliding down to the floor, I grab my clothing and reach to untie my hideous green and white striped hospital gown. Bye bye, baby. I wish I could reach the garbage, or even a fire-pit.
Dressing as quickly as possible so no one sees my breasts naked, I slip on my clothing and finally exhale. I don't have to worry about the rest of the gown until I stand up again, which should be in about 5 hours, give or take. God, I’m so tired. I feel like sleeping right here, on the cold floor... my favorite.
Inside the closet I notice Z's blanket again. I'll use it for a pillow, just for a few minutes. I need a little rest, and then I can make it back to my bed. Placing the blanket under my head is remarkably comfortable. The blanket even smells of Z, like I knew it would. I hoped it would, and it does. His cologne still lingers, and it's so wonderful, I can't help but breathe him in deeply.
I'm going to leave the hospital with this blanket. I'm going to wrap it tight in vacuum-sealed plastic, and open it every once in a while when I need a reminder of Z... NOT that I'm ever going to forget him. But it'll be nice to have his scent to remind me of how good he was. I'm so excited to steal this blanket when I leave, I squeeze it tightly and smile.
Smiling, I know it's time to rest now. I'm going to rest for a few minutes, get up, slowly make my way back to my bed and wait for Kayla to remove this gross catheter. That’s my first plan- my first independent action. I chose it, and I'm doing it- No pee-bag! GO ME!
==========
When I wake it is to the scent of Z. He is all around me. Oh! His blanket. I'm so glad I thought of it. Now, it's mine to keep... unlike Z.
"Can you open your eyes for me?"
"Hi Mack," I smile.
"What are you doing down here? Did you fall?"
"Nope. I just needed a rest, and I love sleeping on cold floors. The cold always feels good to me."
"Would you allow me to help you stand?"
"Yes, thank you. Walking was a bit hard, and I'm not sure if I can get up again."
"Here, let me help you."
As Mack places his hands under my arms, he feels a little too close or something. Closing my eyes I force myself to not panic. Mack
won't hurt me. I know it, but I still don't like him touching me so close to my breasts. Cringing, I just try to keep breathing until I'm back on my feet.
Moments later, Mack is walking me back to the bed. Leaning against his chest, with his arm safely around my shoulders, I'm okay now. His hands aren't near my breasts, and he didn't grab me, or touch me bad or inappropriately. Mack is safe. I know that. I just forget sometimes.
Once I'm back at the bed, I see Mack hook the gross bag back on the side. Ew! He had to carry it. This is so embarrassing. I know I'm super red and I can barely breathe for the blush, as he helps me sit on the edge of the bed. Gross.
"Why are you upset right now?"
"Um, I'm sorry you had to carry that bag. Could you please, please get rid of it? Please."
"The bag is needed to..."
"No! The catheter. I need it out. I don't like it, and I don't need it obviously... I walked!"
"I'll just have a nurse come and remove it for you, okay?"
"Can't you do it?”
"No. This is more of a nurse’s job. Just give me a minute."
I think he must be grossed out by me down there. I know it's a bit messy and scarred but it still works fine. Well, actually, I just learned it still works... Z taught me that it works. But I'm still embarrassed that Mack thinks I'm too gross to look at.
"I'm sorry I'm so gross down there. It's really not my fault. Sometimes they just got a little excited and did stuff to me, but I tried to stop them. I did! Well, until I realized I couldn't stop them, then I just closed my eyes and counted till it was over, or until someone helped me get up or until I woke up afterwards." I think Mack just flinched. Ooops.
"Let me go get a nurse and I'll be right back." Mack says with a kind of ashen face. I hope I didn’t upset him talking about that stuff.
"Please Mack. Could you just do it? I don't want to wait. Plus, I really want you to see me. I don't know why. It's not perverted or anything... I just feel like you should see it. Maybe so you know what it looks like down there. Maybe if you see it all, I won't have to talk any more, I don't know. Can you please just look?" What the hell am I asking?
"Listen to me. I cannot look at your vagina..." flinch "... It is highly inappropriate, given the circumstances, and I don't need to look. Plus, I know you wouldn't be very comfortable with me looking at you so intimately. Also, I need you to talk to me- me looking at your body is not going to change that, therefore, examining the damage inflicted upon your body will not change the fact that you and I need to discuss what happened to you. Do you understand what I'm saying to you?"
"Yes. I understand." I'm used up and too gross to look at. I understand, totally.
God, this sadness is oppressive. The weight on my chest is so heavy, I can barely breathe. I really wish I hadn't asked. I wish I was just like, normal or something. I can't explain any of this anymore.
Before my brain became sick, I at least knew what I thought and felt. Before, I was in complete control of myself. Before, I acted the way I should for everyone, but at least in my head I knew what I actually wanted to do, and say, and feel... whether I did, said, or felt it, for others to see.
Now, I know nothing but I feel everything. I feel too much, and I hate this. This remembering and feeling is suffocating and nauseating, and honestly, just horrifying. I prefer my ‘before’.
My ‘before’ was hard... but easy too. It was hard to always swallow everything down, but at least I had all the choice taken from me. I just knew I had to swallow it all, or I would get into trouble. Period. That's all. That was easy, because there was no choice, or decisions to make.
Now, I'm supposed to choose. I'm supposed to act on my own. I'm supposed to do, say and feel whatever I can at all times. I hate this ‘now' that I'm living in. Now is hard. Now is heavy. Now is depressing. Now, I’m sad, lonely, scared, and kind of desperate, actually.
I really hate my life now. I hate all this feeling, and sadness, and confusion. I know now, I like my ‘before’ better. I think I need the 'before'... when I didn't feel anything, but simple frustration. I think I want to go back to my 'before'.
==========
"Why are you crying?" Mack asks gently.
"I don't really want to do this anymore, Mack," I confess through my tears.
"What don't you want to do?"
"Um... This. All of it. I'm not really good at this, and I don't want to do it anymore."
"What don't you want to do anymore? What is upsetting you?"
"Life." Oh, that actually felt good. I said it. That's what I've meant all along. I don't really want this life anymore, and I don't want to feel this way anymore.
"I'm really tired Mack and just sad. It's very heavy, and I hate feeling this way. I don't want to feel this way anymore. I can’t feel this way anymore. It’s just too much. This hurts too much, all the time.”
"Listen to me. You are depressed, and you’re very stressed out. There are actual physical, psychological, and physiological reasons for this depression, but it can be helped. I can give you medication that will help. I can talk with you and help you understand what you're feeling, and how to cope with what you're feeling. You can and will get better in time. I promise you; you will not always feel this way."
"Um... thank you, Mack. But I, ah, don't really care why. I am just too tired to care anymore."
Squatting down, Mack puts his hands on my knees and looks up at me, so kindly, I can't help but sob. He is so special. He is just, like a delight or something.
"Mack. I will take your memory with me too. I will, you know. I don't have those kind of feelings for you, but I think I love you very much for your goodness. Even right now, you’re touching my knees, and I feel only good. You are so kind, and beautiful. And I really do love you, I think."
"Thank you, but..."
"Please listen Mack. You didn't do anything wrong. You’re a really good doctor, but I don't want to do this anymore. I really don't. I've thought about it… all the bad, and even the few 'goods', but they're not enough. I don't want this anymore. Please understand that it's not you, and I really hope you believe me, but I have to go. I just have to leave all this awful. I really do want to die now, it’s time for me.” There. I said a heart-felt good bye to Mack.
"Well, I can't allow that, I'm sorry. As your doctor, but more importantly, as your friend, I WILL NOT allow that. I have to step in, and take that choice from you." No!
"Please, Mack. I have to. You don't understand how much I hurt. God, everything hurts! My head is filled with pain, and memories of pain, a lifetime of pain... and my heart hurts so badly. It's agony to continue. Please? Please understand? I have to go. I have to. I have nothing good and I feel nothing good. There is only awful, heart crushing agony. Please let me go... I don't want to live anymore, I really don't. I really have thought about it, I have. I'm not making a hasty decision, and it's not something to regret. I need to do this. I want to do this... I want to die. I want to be dead now.” And in nothing more than a whisper, I beg, "Please Mack, let me do this. Please, let me go..."
For one long moment Mack just stares at my eyes. Shaking his head suddenly, Mack exhales a hard breath and says, "I can't, and I won't let you go. You are going to live, I'm going to make you live. And you’ve just given me the power to ensure that you live. I have to take your will from you, for now, until you’re better. I'm really sorry about this, but I WILL do this."
And rising, Mack begins walking to the door. Shit! What's he going to do? "Please, Mack! Please don't do anything to me. Please! I like you, please don't hurt me."
Shaking his head, Mack calls for someone in the hallway. I hear a code of some sort. I hear his name paged overhead. What's happening?
"Please Mack... You don't understand! Please!"
Ignoring me, Mack waits at the door. With his back to me, I see him talking and nodding to someone in the hall. What's he saying?
This is so stressful. What the hell did I do? I should have just pretended. I should
have acted happy, and then done this later, or on my own, or somewhere else, or, or LATER. Fuck! Why was I so stupid? Why did I trust him? I knew he'd screw me over. I knew it. Fix this.
"Mack! Mack!! I'm fine. I've changed my mind. I'm good. I won't do anything! I promise! I'll be good, and do, and say, and, ah, feel whatever you want me to, I promise! Mack! Please listen to me! Please! I won't be bad again, I swear! PLEASE!"
When Mack turns to me, he actually looks sad. It's weird, I want to comfort him or something. I want to make him not sad. He kind of looks like Z did. Shit.
"I'm sorry, Mack. I was just being silly, I promise. I'm good, honestly. Don't be sad or anything, I'm not, ah, worth it, I'm really not. I'll do whatever you want."
"Actually, you ARE worth it. And I'm going to help you feel worth it." Mack says as he walks toward me while 2 nurses, and a man walk in the room.
Oh FUCK! Here we go. Shit. What have I done? What did I do? What the hell is happening?
"MACK! Please don't hurt me... please..."
My chest is pounding. And my head feels like it’s going to explode again. And I can't breathe very well. Where's Kayla? These nurses are mean looking. They don't like me, I can tell. The man is big-ish and he’s not looking at me at all, he’s just standing at the end of my bed, looking at Mack.
"I'm going to give you a needle. Please don't fight me. I want you to stay calm. I want you to get better, and this medicine will help you, I promise."
"FUCK YOU, Mack! I don't want a needle, and I certainly don't want your help! You’re being such an ASSHOLE right now! I promised I'd be good. I promised I’d do whatever you want. Why are you being so mean to me?!"
Pushing myself as far up my bed as possible, I practically climb onto the pillows. What the fuck am I wearing? Oh, right. I had to put on my black, backless cocktail gown because of the catheter. Wow. It made sense at the time, but it looks really stupid right now. Giggle.