Inhale……exhale……….inhale…………………exhale………..………inhale…………….…. “Is she supposed to be breathing like that? “Umm. Let me talk to the doctor.”
Click. I hit the morphine pump again. Inhale…………………………….…Exhale.
“Ok, so she may have had a little too much morphine. Honey, we are going to give you something to help, ok? Honey?”
Thumbs up.
The IV stings my veins. I jolt up fully aware of the shift in my organs, every stitch across my bladder, each of the twenty-five staples that run from below my panty line, across my belly button, and to the middle of my abdomen. I am the bride of Frankenstein.
INHALE. EXHALE. INHALE. EXHALE.
“It hurts, it hurts!” It felt like a scream, the kind that shatters mirrors or walls or the emotional state of the world, but it could’ve been a whisper.
“Ok, I’ll get you something else for the pain. I’ll be back in five minutes.”
The clock. The clock says 11:50pm.
Get me out of my coffin. It’s a coffin. Spinning, spinning like a gerbil.
I reach for Jesse’s arm. Pulling. Squeezing.
“It hurts! It hurts!!”
Looks at the clock. 11:57.
“It’s been longer than five minutes. Longer than five minutes. Longer than five minutes.”
Maybe she said fifteen. Fifteen. 12:05. She’ll help me at 12:05.
INHALE. EXHALE. INHALE. EXHALE. INHALE. EXHALE.
Squeezing. Squeezing Jesse’s arm.
Like a hamster. The ball. Hamster in the ball. Stuck. I’m stuck. Get me out. Get me out
The clock. 12:10.
No no no no no. She’s not here.
“Where is she?”
Hallucinating. Maybe that’s not what the clock really says. Maybe she was just here at 12:05. Ok. 12:25. She’ll be back at 12:25.
INHALE. EXHALE. INHALE. EXHALE. INHALE.
“Help me! Help me! I need help! It hurts.”
“She’ll come back,” my husband says.
God help me. Please. I’m going to die. My kids. Their patron saints. Please. Please help me. Please. Please. Please.
“Help me!”
Help me.
12:37.
“I need help. I need help.”
“Ok, sweetie. I’m going to put some medicine in your IV, but we have to take away your pain pump.”
The sting runs through my veins.
Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.
Darkness.