GHOST HEART by John Palisano

Author:John Palisano [Palisano, John]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-07-16T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

Everything was broken—or at least it felt that way. I woke to the sound of a respirator working nearby. The television in front of me had a pretty, perfectly groomed woman with chestnut hair talking about the stock market. I’d found myself in the hospital. I recognized the light blue stripe painted around the middle of the walls—a unique feature of Whistleville Hospital.

More and more details came into focus. My left arm stung and was numb from the IV. I had to pee something fierce, and felt there was something blocking me. Sure hoped that didn’t mean a catheter. My head hurt something worse, though. My brain felt dry, and my throat was closed and raw. It seemed, as I came to, that all my muscles were torn or pulled at once, and every bone had been fractured. Flashes of the accident (not accidental . . . an attack) played in my head. The headlights zooming up so fast. The Caddy hitting my side of the car. The way my fingers looked on the wheel as I turned it. Then, last, the way my window broke and they pulled me through, and the way the stars looked, and the shock of the cold air, and then waking up in the hospital.

Someone coughed next to me. Of course, I was sharing a room. Not since I’d been a kid had people gotten their own rooms. It had something to do with having company, they claimed, but everyone knew it was because of budgets. Whatever. Squinting to see the television, I saw that it was ten after six in the morning, and I knew it was morning because of the way the light was just about to come up outside. That was pretty distinct.

Then I thought, well, shouldn’t I be in ICU? From what I’d been through, wasn’t that normal? Why was I in a normal room, away from the emergency staff? What if there was a complication? What if something vital began to fail? How would they reach me in time to fix me, if need be? I looked for the buzzer to call someone. I found it, the plastic cable tied to the side of my bed. I pressed the red button. Someone said hello, but when I tried to say something, my mouth couldn’t form the words. All I got out was a wispy little rasp, and my throat felt shredded all around.

After a few moments, a young fellow arrived at my bedside. “Good morning,” he said. “How are you feeling?” He was dressed in telltale blue scrubs. “My name’s Brian, and I’m taking care of you this morning. Rita will be here this afternoon.”

Of course, I couldn’t speak.

“You’re in the recovery room in the emergency section,” he said. “You had a rough night. Do you remember any of it?”

It was a struggle, but I got out a pathetic, “Yes,” and nodded.

“That’s good,” he said. “Our job is to patch you up and make you feel better, okay?”

Again, I nodded.

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