This one is new. Her touch is lighter and she hesitates before she lifts the blanket to look at what is left of me. I can not see her, of course. I haven't seen any of the others, but I can identify them by their touch, their breathing, and the words they whisper without realizing it. Certainly this is a new one. She is not only new to my case, but probably new to nursing itself.
My name is Lynette. How are you tonight, Mrs. Herron? I'll be taking care of you tonight. I'll get you cleaned up and then we can relax and get acquainted.
She uses the first person, "I." Very unusual. Most of the nurses use third person "How are we doing?" "Let's get you cleaned up." "Let's take your vitals." As if I were involved in any of it. But, this new nurse says, "I'll get you cleaned up." She realizes that I would not be wearing a diaper if I were capable of walking to the bathroom, or calling for a bedpan, or moving. A coma can be so restricting.
I know everything that has happened to me since I left the conscious world. I felt every tube as it was inserted into my body. Pain is no different for the comatose than for the conscious. We scream and cry when a nurse searches for a vein with the tip of a needle. Our cries don't bother anyone, though. Coma patients learn to be stoic about pain, since no one is aware of it except us. Most nurses and doctors don't even acknowledge it. Some don't even say "Ready?" before an injection.
Wouldn't it be funny if a bunch of coma patients could get together and compare notes on their care. We would have to do it telepathically, I suppose. I can just imagine it.
"Did you hear about Dr. Bailey and Nurse Jenkins?
"Hear about them. They were in my room! I heard every moan."
"Some people can't walk buy an empty bed, it seems"
"They did it right in your room.?"
"Yes, honey. Grow up. You're not in the conscious world any more. No one is going to mind their manners around you. You're a lamp, now; a coat rack."
"Oh, lay off. The kid is new here. She still remembers her car accident."
"I do remember. Why won't they tell me what happened to my boyfriend?"
"I heard what happened."
"You did? Tell me, please."
"Well, I hope his head wasn't your favorite part of him."
"Hey, hey. If you can't be nice why don't you just wake up and go back to ICU?"
"Sor-rey. I'm sorry kid. I'm just a little cranky since my family stopped visiting."
"They did! My family will never stop visiting me."
"Wait until year 2 or 3 or 5."
That's how I imagine a typical conversation would go. No matter where it might begin, the every conversation would end up on the subject of visitors. They are the measure of wealth here in the state of the persistent vegetative state. A patient who has visitors, people who talk or read or even watch the patient's TV, are the lucky ones. They even have a chance of waking up, or so the nurses say.
My family is all gone. My husband, brothers and sisters. All predeceased. My sons both live in Oregon. The older one raises sheep, and they require lots of care. Sheep are really stupid, and if someone doesn't watch them, they will walk off a cliff, or in front of a truck, or something. So, my son and his wife stay home and care for their sheep. I guess if I made wool, she might pay some attention to me.
The other son made a career of the Navy. He's on a ship somewhere. He used to send me the most beautiful scarves and purses from his travels. I wish I had one of those scarves here in the hospital. There was a deep blue paisley silk with gold threads throughout that I used to love. He brought it to me from Turkey. What would it hurt to have it wrapped around my neck? It would at least cover this ventilator tube and the tape criss-crossed over it. I might feel more human if I had that scarf. It still smells of Estee Lauder, I'll bet; even after all these years. How nice to feel that delicious silk on my skin and smell flowers. How long has it been since I heard the whispering rustle of silk as I turned my heard to catch people looking at me.
If I had the scarf, the nurses would take it. I don't mean steal it, but just put it away so they could do their job more easily. The nurses do work such long hours, and on their feet so much. I'm not unsympathetic of their hard work and fatigue. I just wish they might slow down, some times. Hold my wrist a few extra seconds when they take my pulse or let me listen to the little radios they all carry.
The new nurse is coming in again. That's odd. I know her shift is over because the nurse who says "OK," after everything she does has already been in to check on me. Why is the young one back?
Did you know it is snowing outside? My brother is late picking me up this morning, so I came in to sit with you. I hope that's all right. It helps me not think about him driving on the dangerous slick streets.
Uh, sure. Help yourself. There's an empty chair in here somewhere. Of course, you know that. You can see it.
Ah yes, the familiar sound of magazine pages being flipped. New Nurse is reading while she waits. She can probably see the parking lot from my window. That's why she's here. I've been in a coma long enough to know that she isn't really in my room because of me. Her cell phone reception is probably better on this side of the floor. I may be unconscious, but I'm not stupid.
Here's one about a family with twelve children. Two sets of twins and two sets of triplets. They have a show on television. Let's see one set of twins is 10 years old. The other set is 8 years old. And the triplets are 6 and 4. My goodness: ten children under ten years old. I'd like to have children someday. One at a time, though. Oh, there's my husband. Gotta go.
Oh now, listen to that. New Nurse is ripping a page out of the magazine. Taking coupons, no doubt, or a recipe to cook for her darling brother.
She's still in the room. Why doesn't she just go? Oh now she has put something on my pillow. That fragrance! Did I slip over into heaven? It's the fragrance of magnolias and a fruity smell of some kind; pears maybe. New Nurse tore out the page with the perfume sample on it, and put it on my pillow. If my son ever came to visit, I swear I would wake up and introduce him to this sweet girl. Wouldn't that be something!
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