Turning her head and looking up, she watched the drops fall soundlessly from the IV bottle into an expanded portion of the IV line. Watching it was hypnotizing, and after a few minutes, it took a bit of effort to pull her eyes away. The reassuring part was that piggybacked to the IV line was a small pump containing morphine, which meant that to a controlled degree, she could medicate herself. So far she had done it only twice.
A TV was suspended above the foot of her bed, and she turned it on, more for company than anything else. The local evening news was in progress. She turned down the sound, preferring only to watch, her mind addled from a combination of the morning's anesthesia and the narcotic pain medication. The machine continued flexing her leg, but she was strangely detached from it, as if it were someone else's leg.
An hour passed effortlessly in a state midway between sleep and full consciousness. It was more like sleep when she remembered to lie still, and more like wakefulness if she happened to move her leg. She was vaguely aware that the local news had given way to the Letterman show.
The next thing she knew, she was being shaken awake by a nurse's aide. Darlene gritted her teeth because she'd inadvertently contracted her thigh muscle upon being disturbed.
"Have you passed urine since your operation?" the aide asked. She was an overweight woman with stringy red hair.
Darlene tried to think. In truth, she couldn't remember and said so.
"I think you would have remembered if you had, so you've got to go now. I'll get the bedpan." The aide disappeared into the bathroom and returned with the stainless-steel container. She placed it on the edge of the bed, against Darlene's hip.
"I don't have to go," Darlene said. The last thing she wanted to do was move herself onto the bedpan. Even the thought made her wince. The surgeon had told her she might have some discomfort after the operation. What an understatement!
"You have to," the aide stated. She checked her watch, as if there was no time for discussion.
A combination of the aide's attitude and Darlene's drugged state made Darlene's dander rise. "Leave the bedpan; I'll do it later."
"Honey, you're doing it now. I got orders from above."
"Well you tell whoever is 'above' that I'm doing it later."
"I'm getting the nurse, and let me tell you, she doesn't brook contrariness."
The aide disappeared again. Darlene shook her head. "Contrariness" was a word she associated with preschoolers. She moved the ice-cold bedpan away from her thigh.
Five minutes later, the nurse burst into the room with the aide in tow, causing Darlene to start. In contrast to the aide, the nurse was tall and lean with exotic eyes. With her hands on her hips, she leaned over Darlene. "The aide tells me you refuse to urinate."
"I didn't refuse. I said I would do it later."
"You're doing it now or we'll cath you. I trust you know what that means."
Darlene had an idea, and it wasn't appealing in the slightest. The aide went around to the other side of the bed. Darlene felt surrounded.
"It's your call, sister," the nurse added when Darlene didn't respond. "My advice to you is to get that butt of yours in the air."
"You could be a little more empathetic," Darlene suggested as she prepared to raise her backside by putting her two palms against the bed.
"I got too many sick patients to be empathetic about passing a little urine," the nurse said. She checked the IV line while the aide got the bedpan into place.
Darlene breathed a sigh of relief. Getting on the bedpan hadn't been as bad as she had imagined, although the cold metal was shocking. Urinating was another matter. It took her a few minutes of concentration before she could start. Meanwhile, the nurse and the aide had left. She passed more urine than she thought she could, which made her recognize that the ordeal was necessary. At the same time, it made her remember why she didn't like hospitals.
Once she was finished, she had to wait. She could move her pelvis up and down without discomfort, but to get the bedpan out from under her, she'd have to lift one of her hands off the bed. That meant tensing muscles that hurt her knee, so she was stuck. After five minutes, her back started to complain, so she gritted her teeth and managed to move the bedpan to the side. Almost on cue, both the nurse and the aide reappeared.
While the aide dealt with the bedpan, the nurse offered Darlene a sleeping pill and a small paper cup of water.
"I don't think I need it," Darlene said. With all the drugs she'd had during the day, she felt like she was floating.
"Take it," the nurse enjoined. "It's been ordered by your doctor."
Darlene looked up into the nurse's face. She couldn't tell if her expression was brazen or bored or disdainful. Whatever it was, it seemed inappropriate. It made Darlene wonder why the woman had gone into nursing. Darlene took the pill, swallowed it, and chased it with the water. She gave the cup back to the nurse. "You could be a little more personable," she suggested.
"People get what they deserve," the nurse said, taking the cup and crushing it in her hand. "I'll be back to see you later."
Don't bother, Darlene thought but didn't say. Instead, she merely nodded as the nurse and the aide left. Recognizing her neediness and vulnerability, she didn't want to cut off her nose to spite her face. With her leg bound up in the flexing machine and with as much pain as she got when she moved her knee, she was totally dependent on the nursing staff.
Darlene gave herself a dose of her pain medication to dull her toothache-like discomfort after the bedpan ordeal. She soon felt calm and detached. The emotions evoked by the run-in with the nurse and the aide faded into insignificance. The important thing was that the surgery was over. The anxiety she'd felt the night before was a thing of the past. She was now on the road to recovery, and, according to the doctor, she could look forward to playing tennis in six months or so.
Without being aware of the transition, Darlene fell into a deep, dreamless, drugged slumber. She was unaware of the passage of time until she was rudely yanked back to consciousness by a searing pain racing up her left arm. A moan escaped from her lips as her eyes shot open. The TV was off, and the room was dim with only a single low-wattage nightlight down near the floor. For an instant, Darlene was disoriented, but she quickly recovered. With the pain now spreading into her shoulder, she lunged for the call button. But she didn't get to it. Instead, she felt a hand grab her wrist. Raising her eyes, she saw a white figure standing at the bedside, the face lost in shadow. Darlene opened her mouth to talk, but the words caught in her throat. The room dimmed and began to spin before Darlene felt herself falling from the light into darkness.
six
SHELLY, WATCH OUT!" LAURIE yelled. "Stop!" To her utter horror, her brother was running full tilt toward a stagnant lake, the shore of which was ringed with deadly mud capable of swallowing an elephant. She couldn't believe it. She'd warned him of the danger, but he wouldn't listen. "Shelly, stop!" she repeated as loud as she could.
Filled with the agonizing frustration of powerlessness in the face of imminent disaster, Laurie began running. Although she knew she would be helpless when Shelly blundered into the mud, she couldn't stand there and let the tragedy unfold without trying to do something. As she ran, she frantically looked for a long stick or a log that she could extend to her brother once he was caught in the muck, but the surrounding landscape was barren, with nothing but bare rock.