OCR Text |
Show 334 I have hit someone. "Religious people will swear up a storm on Versed," a different nurse once joked to me. I have since tried so very hard to control all speech and action while on Versed because I am told that I am still quite conversant at extraordinarily high levels ofthe drug. Even as the plunger is first being pushed, I remind myself again and again to maintain utmost confrol over my speech, over my actions. I have vowed that even such overpowering drugs such as Versed will never, ever, compromise my integrity. My core beliefs. And now it seems that I have hit someone. There are questions, so many questions and I must ask them. Who did I hit? Did I hurt them? Are they alright? But the nurse remains absent from my room for some time. I am grasping at the memory ofthe memory, willing it to stay, vowing to remember it as a memory ofthe memory ofthe memory if I must, but I have to find out what happened. I must. I must apologize. Tears are stinging my eyes at the thought that I may have hurt someone, and I am wiping them away with the edges ofthe sheet when the nurse comes back into the room. Her face is hard. |