Three AM found me in the darkness of my hospital room pushing my Nurse Button while shouting “Sweet Holy Jesus, Somebody Get Me Something for Pain.” I’ve been at it a while. According to the clock it has just been five minutes but I know they slow down the damn clock when it gets close to the time for some small bit of relief.
I’m here, in the dark, betwixt antibiotics flowing into my body because a doctor decided I needed to have a lung biopsy.
“It’s a very common procedure with very little pain,” the Doctor had said. Well, if The Doctor said it, it must be true. The Doctor also felt the biopsy was a grand idea. He would, no doubt, deliver immediate insight and results. The Doctor is your friend, don’t you know.
It’s time for another scream because the pain has moved from Hurting Badly to Just Shoot Me, Dumbass. Somewhere on the second use of the “bitch” word, a word interchangeable with the little Pakistani nurse, she opens the door. Finally, I am out of the dark.
“Mr. Manley, what is wrong with you? Such cursing I have never heard,” she sounds like Apu from the Simpsons. Except female. I think.
“Well, I’ll tell you what’s wrong with me", Nurse Ratchet-Hussein, "it seems that yesterday they poked four nice sized holes in my side. They inserted a little pair of scissors and snipped and pulled out healthy lung tissue. Then, they left a tube they could be used for farm irrigation coming out of my side to drain off fluids. Said tube is now flowing like a river and believe it or not, there is a tad of pain.”
“You use too much pain medicine I think is the problem, Mr. Manley. It is not good to use so much.”
“Look you little Nurse Ghandi Nightingale, you will bring me my medication or I will scream rape at the top of my lungs. Now, how would you like to explain that accusation.”
“I think you are crazy patient. But here is pain medication. Are you sure you need such a dose as ordered by your doctor. Your doctor left too much, I think.”
If it was up to Nurse Ghandi , Tylenol would be a controlled substance. She checks my armband and sees if I really am who I seem to be. She thinks, perhaps, I snuck in, killed off Reece Manley, hid his body under the bed all for 3mg of Dilaudid.
After delaying the action of administering the damn shot as much as she could, she slams the full amount. My body almost immediately puts the pain reliever to work on the bandage as quickly as it can. However, it cannot not post it up to the right nerves quite as quickly as the drug is coming in. I sit up with my tongue wagging happily out of my mouth, “Why, or why, do we always hurt the ones we love, truly”, I say, overcome by a strange warmth I’d missed so. “Oh, Mahaca Hussein, you cute little nurse, I loves you.”
Mahaca pauses in fear. Finally she decides to protest. “No no, no. Mr. Manley I am asking you to sit down. No, Mr. Manley you must get back in bed. Yes, yes. Back in bed.”
Oh, she’s tricky. She dodges left, then right. That’s okay, I’ve got poppy joy for another few moments today. “Damn it, with your no, no, no. My heart cries yes, yes, yes! Come here and let me hug all 4’ 2” on your squat little happy haji frame!”
“Back in bed, back in bed, Mr. Manley.” Finally getting a break between me and the door, Mahaca makes for the exit and freedom. I finally give a final shout, loud enough to be heard by the wing. “Nursre Mahaca will break your heart!”
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