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Show 338 I have never seen Hy so angry on my behalf. My nurse is coming through the door and Hy is rising from the chair to his full height to meet her. "We need to speak with Dr. Emerson Now," he is saying with a finality that does not give her a chance to respond. He turns his back on her and looks down at me. She is leaving. At length, Dr. Emerson enters my room with the nurse in tow. She is wearing a closed, triumphant smile. She has spoken with him and it is obvious that he will defend her. Words are being thrown at me. Hurtful words. "Manipulative tears." "Liable." "Culpable." "You are responsible," Dr. Emerson is saying, coldly eying me, "even when you are on Versed." He is glaring at me. "It's just like a drunk. A drunk is responsible for all his actions." I am wanting to say that it was he, not I, who ordered the Versed into my body. I am wanting to say that I am not anything like the drunk, who pours his own drink, who himself places it in overabundance to his own lips, who then decides whether or not he will get behind the wheel of a car. I am feeling violated and wanting to defend my tiny space, wanting to keep alive some small shred of hope, some white and clear parcel of feeling that I am still a worthwhile being to someone, to anyone, but even more that that, I am wanting to be out of here. I am tired of trying |