focus. She didn’t want to mess up. She’d already had her meds this morning? Cara was quite certain the nurse upstairs hadn’t given her any medication. She sent up a silent prayer of thanks to the universe in general and to that nurse in particular for her help.
Dazed, Cara followed the woman down the hall to her room. The nurse tried to be informative, but Cara was incapable of absorbing much. Finally the nurse gave up her futile attempts to illicit a response. She made a comment about needing some time to adjust to the new medications.
Cara was content to let the woman think whatever she wanted to think. She had gone into physical and emotional overload and her cognitive systems were shutting down. She waited passively on her assigned bed for an aide to come to her room and take her to the shower.
The aide, a good-natured middle-aged woman, wrapped Cara’s cast in a plastic bag and escorted her to the shower room. Weak as a kitten, Cara had to lean on the aide’s arm for support. She stood, helpless, beneath the stream of hot water, unable to shampoo her hair or even hold a bar of soap.
The woman lowered Cara to the wet floor and left, returning with a plastic chair and the nurse in charge. Cara sat, staring at the blank white wall, while the aide shampooed and showered her with the nurse’s assistance. The aide dried her and helped Cara into clean clothes. With a vague sense of unease, Cara noticed that the clothes were her own. She helped Cara to her room where she combed out Cara’s thick, tangled hair and braided it neatly. When she finished, Cara slumped across the bed and promptly fell asleep.
∗ ∗ ∗
“Cara, wake up,” a voice intruded on her dream. “Cara, wake up and drink this.”
“Leave me alone,” Cara replied. It hurt to talk “Don’t touch me.” She tried to move away from the voice, but her body refused to obey.
“Cara wake up and drink this or we’re going to start an IV.”
Cara struggled to open her eyes. They felt gritty, like she’d rubbed sand into them. Her mouth was dry as burned toast and her throat felt raw. Every joint, every muscle in her body ached.
“C’mon sweetie, sit up. Dr. Mack, could you please come over here and help me get her up?”
Cara felt herself pulled gently into a sitting position. Someone slid behind her. Limp as a dishrag, she leaned against the person. Cara pried her eyes open.
“That’s better,” the woman said. “Do you know where you are? Do you remember me?”
Cara blinked and looked up. The woman’s face seemed out of focus, but she wore a white uniform. Suddenly Cara remembered. “Oh God,” she cried out. “Don’t hurt me again.”
The woman muttered something under her breath. “No one is going to hurt you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s not going to happen again. Now drink this. Please. Drink this so we don’t have to start an IV. You’re very dehydrated. You’ve slept for over twenty-four hours since we brought you down yesterday. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Cara nodded and reached for the glass the woman held out in her direction. She stopped and looked at her right arm, confused by the sight of a cast. Then she remembered how that happened too.
The woman helped her to drink the entire glass of juice and poured her another one, making her drink that too.
“All right, that’s better. You stay here with Dr. Mack while I get you something to eat. You’re going to eat all of it and then I’ll help you get cleaned up and we’ll talk. My name is Debbie, by the way. I’m your nurse today.”
Cara watched the woman leave the room. With a sigh she leaned back, but then what the nurse said registered and she remembered there was still a body behind her. Cara jerked herself forward.
“Get away from me.”
Dr. Mack, as the nurse referred to him, disengaged himself from her and stood up. He walked around the bed until Cara could see him.
“I’m James Mackie,” he said. “I’m a
Dazed, Cara followed the woman down the hall to her room. The nurse tried to be informative, but Cara was incapable of absorbing much. Finally the nurse gave up her futile attempts to illicit a response. She made a comment about needing some time to adjust to the new medications.
Cara was content to let the woman think whatever she wanted to think. She had gone into physical and emotional overload and her cognitive systems were shutting down. She waited passively on her assigned bed for an aide to come to her room and take her to the shower.
The aide, a good-natured middle-aged woman, wrapped Cara’s cast in a plastic bag and escorted her to the shower room. Weak as a kitten, Cara had to lean on the aide’s arm for support. She stood, helpless, beneath the stream of hot water, unable to shampoo her hair or even hold a bar of soap.
The woman lowered Cara to the wet floor and left, returning with a plastic chair and the nurse in charge. Cara sat, staring at the blank white wall, while the aide shampooed and showered her with the nurse’s assistance. The aide dried her and helped Cara into clean clothes. With a vague sense of unease, Cara noticed that the clothes were her own. She helped Cara to her room where she combed out Cara’s thick, tangled hair and braided it neatly. When she finished, Cara slumped across the bed and promptly fell asleep.
∗ ∗ ∗
“Cara, wake up,” a voice intruded on her dream. “Cara, wake up and drink this.”
“Leave me alone,” Cara replied. It hurt to talk “Don’t touch me.” She tried to move away from the voice, but her body refused to obey.
“Cara wake up and drink this or we’re going to start an IV.”
Cara struggled to open her eyes. They felt gritty, like she’d rubbed sand into them. Her mouth was dry as burned toast and her throat felt raw. Every joint, every muscle in her body ached.
“C’mon sweetie, sit up. Dr. Mack, could you please come over here and help me get her up?”
Cara felt herself pulled gently into a sitting position. Someone slid behind her. Limp as a dishrag, she leaned against the person. Cara pried her eyes open.
“That’s better,” the woman said. “Do you know where you are? Do you remember me?”
Cara blinked and looked up. The woman’s face seemed out of focus, but she wore a white uniform. Suddenly Cara remembered. “Oh God,” she cried out. “Don’t hurt me again.”
The woman muttered something under her breath. “No one is going to hurt you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s not going to happen again. Now drink this. Please. Drink this so we don’t have to start an IV. You’re very dehydrated. You’ve slept for over twenty-four hours since we brought you down yesterday. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Cara nodded and reached for the glass the woman held out in her direction. She stopped and looked at her right arm, confused by the sight of a cast. Then she remembered how that happened too.
The woman helped her to drink the entire glass of juice and poured her another one, making her drink that too.
“All right, that’s better. You stay here with Dr. Mack while I get you something to eat. You’re going to eat all of it and then I’ll help you get cleaned up and we’ll talk. My name is Debbie, by the way. I’m your nurse today.”
Cara watched the woman leave the room. With a sigh she leaned back, but then what the nurse said registered and she remembered there was still a body behind her. Cara jerked herself forward.
“Get away from me.”
Dr. Mack, as the nurse referred to him, disengaged himself from her and stood up. He walked around the bed until Cara could see him.
“I’m James Mackie,” he said. “I’m a
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