reassuringly as she leans against the edge of my bed. “Are you hurting?”
I take a moment before I answer her. Although my shoulder aches a little and my head is still throbbing, I wouldn’t say that I’m really in pain.
“No, not really.”
“You’re gonna be sore for a while. Best to just rest as much as you can. But if you feel like getting up to go to the bathroom, hit your call bell.” She reaches for a box dangling from a cord that’s wrapped around the thick, plastic rails of my bed. She taps the red button with her index finger. “We’ll come and help you the first time you get up. You might be a little lightheaded, so we want to be extra careful. Other than that, except for your shoulder, we want you to move around as much as you can. It’ll keep those muscles and joints from getting stiff and your soreness from worsening, okay?”
I nod yet again. “How long have I been here?”
The nurse glances at her watch. “Oh, about five hours now. Not too long.”
I nod for the millionth time it seems. I feel like some sort of broken bobblehead doll, but I can’t seem to drum up much in the way of conversational skills. I don’t know why, but I have the strangest feeling that doom is hovering just outside. Maybe just outside my consciousness.
“Can I get up now?” I ask, noting how full my bladder feels. I’d hate for her to leave and then have to come right back when I buzz for her. “I’ll save you a trip.”
“Sure,” she says, straightening and reaching for my wires again. She unhooks the tubes to the blood pressure cuff that encircles my right arm and then she unplugs the machine that’s delivering something into the IV that’s in my arm. When I’m mobile-friendly, she flings back my covers and looks at me expectantly. “Do you want me to help you sit up or can you manage? I don’t do well with only one arm, I can tell you that right now.” She smiles again, this time a self-deprecating one. I decide in that instant that I like this woman. “I’m Mary, by the way. I’m the one you can blame for aggravating you for the next few hours.”
By the time I return to bed from my short trip to the bathroom, my head hurts worse, my shoulder aches and I’m exhausted. Mary gets me settled and pulls my bedside table up close, setting my glass of water near the edge.
“How you feeling now?” I think she noticed my frown of discomfort.
“I’m okay. Maybe I’ll just lie here a few minutes and rest.”
“Call if you need anything, you hear?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She smiles and walks away in her ninja-nurse way, leaving me to close my eyes and try to get comfortable. The next time I hear someone come into the room, they’re not nearly so quiet. And, when I open my eyes, not nearly so welcome.
Hovering just inside the doorway, like she stopped dead in her tracks when I opened my eyes, is my mother. Her hand is covering her mouth and her eyes are watering. I know what’s coming.
“Oh my word, Willow! Are you okay?”
I can already hear code orange level alarm in her voice. I need to diffuse this quickly before she goes off the deep end.
“I’m fine, Mom,” I assure her as she rushes to my side. Her black hair is the exact same chin-length bob it has been for ten years and her makeup looks like she just put it on. As always, she is perfectly coiffed, far too put together to have a daughter with “issues.”
“What happened?”
“I was turning into the parking lot and didn’t make it across the street fast enough, I suppose.”
Her eyes search mine. “It was an accident?” she asks, uncertainty in her expression despite my explanation.
I sigh. “Yes, mother. It was an accident.”
She turns her head slightly. “Don’t say it like that. I have to ask.”
“No, you don’t. I just explained exactly what happened. There’s no reason for you to think it was anything but an
I take a moment before I answer her. Although my shoulder aches a little and my head is still throbbing, I wouldn’t say that I’m really in pain.
“No, not really.”
“You’re gonna be sore for a while. Best to just rest as much as you can. But if you feel like getting up to go to the bathroom, hit your call bell.” She reaches for a box dangling from a cord that’s wrapped around the thick, plastic rails of my bed. She taps the red button with her index finger. “We’ll come and help you the first time you get up. You might be a little lightheaded, so we want to be extra careful. Other than that, except for your shoulder, we want you to move around as much as you can. It’ll keep those muscles and joints from getting stiff and your soreness from worsening, okay?”
I nod yet again. “How long have I been here?”
The nurse glances at her watch. “Oh, about five hours now. Not too long.”
I nod for the millionth time it seems. I feel like some sort of broken bobblehead doll, but I can’t seem to drum up much in the way of conversational skills. I don’t know why, but I have the strangest feeling that doom is hovering just outside. Maybe just outside my consciousness.
“Can I get up now?” I ask, noting how full my bladder feels. I’d hate for her to leave and then have to come right back when I buzz for her. “I’ll save you a trip.”
“Sure,” she says, straightening and reaching for my wires again. She unhooks the tubes to the blood pressure cuff that encircles my right arm and then she unplugs the machine that’s delivering something into the IV that’s in my arm. When I’m mobile-friendly, she flings back my covers and looks at me expectantly. “Do you want me to help you sit up or can you manage? I don’t do well with only one arm, I can tell you that right now.” She smiles again, this time a self-deprecating one. I decide in that instant that I like this woman. “I’m Mary, by the way. I’m the one you can blame for aggravating you for the next few hours.”
By the time I return to bed from my short trip to the bathroom, my head hurts worse, my shoulder aches and I’m exhausted. Mary gets me settled and pulls my bedside table up close, setting my glass of water near the edge.
“How you feeling now?” I think she noticed my frown of discomfort.
“I’m okay. Maybe I’ll just lie here a few minutes and rest.”
“Call if you need anything, you hear?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She smiles and walks away in her ninja-nurse way, leaving me to close my eyes and try to get comfortable. The next time I hear someone come into the room, they’re not nearly so quiet. And, when I open my eyes, not nearly so welcome.
Hovering just inside the doorway, like she stopped dead in her tracks when I opened my eyes, is my mother. Her hand is covering her mouth and her eyes are watering. I know what’s coming.
“Oh my word, Willow! Are you okay?”
I can already hear code orange level alarm in her voice. I need to diffuse this quickly before she goes off the deep end.
“I’m fine, Mom,” I assure her as she rushes to my side. Her black hair is the exact same chin-length bob it has been for ten years and her makeup looks like she just put it on. As always, she is perfectly coiffed, far too put together to have a daughter with “issues.”
“What happened?”
“I was turning into the parking lot and didn’t make it across the street fast enough, I suppose.”
Her eyes search mine. “It was an accident?” she asks, uncertainty in her expression despite my explanation.
I sigh. “Yes, mother. It was an accident.”
She turns her head slightly. “Don’t say it like that. I have to ask.”
“No, you don’t. I just explained exactly what happened. There’s no reason for you to think it was anything but an
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