She Got Up Off the Couch by Haven Kimmel

Author:Haven Kimmel
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Free Press
Published: 2009-08-22T16:00:00+00:00

I was well known in the emergency room, but this fussing wasn’t like that other fussing. This time there was no waiting, no flirting with my dad by the nurses, no small talk. There were shots, a falling twilight. I was awakened in a private room, dark but for a single light above my bed, by a very large man dressed in scrubs and with what appeared to be a flashlight on his head. My own doctor was there, Dr. Heilman, and Dad had found Mother and gotten her there, and I was being introduced to this enormous man, an orthopedic surgeon from Indianapolis who had apparently been interrupted at home to come tend me.

“You’ve heard of me, surely,” he said, waggling his flashlight.

“Nope.”

“I’m Dr. Linceski, I’m known the world ’round. I was at home with my maps and my exotic fish when I got your call. I assume you broke your arm on purpose.”

“Nope.”

“You didn’t do this just to meet me?”

“Istill don’t know who you are.”

“Well, that’s appropriate. We’ve only just met.” He looked at my parents and Dr. Heilman, raised his eyebrows as if to acknowledge that the odds were against me, given the rascal fringe surrounding me. “From what I heard you were cracking the whip, huh? and a bunch of girls fell on you? It’s all a barrel of monkeys, isn’t it, with you crazy types, until SOMEBODY has a double compound fracture that EXTRUDES through the skin with portions of bone SHATTERED by the compatriots who landed on you. Do you know what I mean?”

“Not a word.”

“Good. All I’m trying to say is heckuva job there, heckuva break. It’s going to take all of my foreign medical training to make it right. Now look,” he said, as an orderly wheeled in a bed.

“We’re taking you to the O.R. right now, why waste time is my motto.”

I was transferred to the other bed and Dr. Linceski talked and talked. My parents were silent and stricken-looking. They both bent down and kissed my forehead as I was wheeled through the double doors into the shocking lights of the operating room. It happened too fast for me to be afraid.

“And here,” Dr. Linceski said, “is my anesthesiologist, Dr. Wang. That is his real name, Dr. Wang, I kid you not. He’s going to make sure you stay asleep.”

Dr. Wang was round, moonfaced, wearing a little hat. He appeared to be Chinese and was wearing flip-flop slippers, not booties. He had a flyswatter in his hand. “Hello,” he said, in a Chinese way, bowing a little and waving at me.

“Is that a flyswatter?” I asked, because when you’re about to be made unconscious by Dr. Wang, it’s best to know.

“Yes, is fly in room.”

Dr. Linceski whistled, scrubbed his arms as if trying to remove a tattoo. He talked to Dr. Wang, who pursued the fly and didn’t answer. I heard a swat somewhere behind me, then the spraying of antiseptic and the eek-eek sound of a squeegee.

“Awwwright, then.” Dr. Wang was suddenly above me.

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