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Show 99 I am trying to assess my options when a gangly young man in green scmbs enters the room, snaps up the brakes on the bed's wheels and grabs my bed. He is pushing me in it out the door, ramming first the head and then the sides of the bed into the door jam, bumping both sets of wheels soundly over the threshold and crashing rapidly down the hall. It has obviously never been his job to bring patients with stiff-man syndrome in their beds down to the surgical suites. I can hear Lisa, tromping up the hallway to catch this mad driver, yelling at him to stop and to stop now. She is a large Samoan woman, the matriarchal head nurse of this unit. She is a formidable woman when sh^j^^E^E^-An4=sh©4s=^e|^^igry. The heat of her anger rushes in torrents down the hallway, thumps into him at frill sp£ejl-an4~Qy_erpowering him, flows from off the top of his head and down onto me. Stunning him, her outburst rests on me like a comfortable homemade quilt. Like an obedient child, he is halting the shoving of my bed and stands next to it instead, pasty hands dangling white at his side, now suddenly solemn and wide-eyed, staring at me. My body is in total full-body spasm. Arching. Crashing against the bed rails. She is swabbing the IV port to my barely-functioning central line. She will be pushing Versed into it - a more fast-acting drug than Valium. Lots of Versed. Enough Versed that I will have no need of general anesthesia. |
