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Show 156 "You could be paralyzed. You could die. Maybe nothing - I'm not a doctor." "Isn't the correct dye named in the protocol?" I hiss. "Yes. But he insists this won't hurt you. I'm out of this one..." her voice trails off and we both are looking in the doorway as he comes around the comer. I am wishing I had never insisted on the protocol. I am wishing I were a man, who could confront this man with his issues. I am wishing I were anywhere else on this Earth and I am trying to decide what I will do when he places the needle in the access port to the pump and withdraws the Baclofen from the catheter in order to shoot the potentially lethal dye through it and watches its stealthy flow under the fluoroscopy machine. He is swabbing the skin over the pump with the three requisite coats of orange disinfectant. He is letting it dry. He is poising the needle over the pump and my heart is pounding now in my ears. Can he hear it? I am wondering. I will refuse the dye. I will appear as the lunatic he thinks I am anyway, so what difference does it make? He will then refuse to care for me after all this and there is no other doctor in this hospital who can care for me. I do not know of any other doctor anywhere who knows this disease. I do not know where I will go but I do know that I am not going to expire on this table or become totally paralyzed by a stupid mistake. I will refuse the dye. |