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Show 153 Dublonsky and I were both right about one thing. There never was any real reason for me to be seeing him. In fact, there's no real reason for me to be in this hospital at all. My skin is the same this year as it was last year, and the only things I do for it that help are the same things I've always done: sun and water, water and sun. I don't need a hospital for that. But they keep me here, let me stay, so they can mess with my body on the side. Vitamin shots, mineral baths, citric salves and steroid creams, the tests and experiments and studies never end. Maybe they're afraid to dismiss me because I know too much. Or maybe they just can't figure out what they would do with all my medical records if I was gone. But the reason I don't just leave on my own-the reason I've never considered it for more than five minutes-is simple. I don't know where I would go. "Arizona," says Owen Bacon, "that's where all the action is these days. Lots of building going on there, Jenny, lots of good clean construction work. Tucson is a boom city." This was last night and he was buying me a Pepsi in the cafeteria. The only reason I agreed to talk with him was to make the nurses jealous. "I hate cities," I say. "If I was going someplace I wouldn't |
