Paper Cranes

by Nicole Hite

  “Can she just take a muscle relaxer or something? Slow those bad boys down?”

  “I wish it were that simple, but this all stems from the neurological connection from the brain straight to the muscles. You can’t exactly give your brain a muscle relaxer unfortunately.”

  “Why can’t she just have some sort of transplant?”

  “JoJo, I’m not Frankenstein!”

  “That’s a legitimate question. The neurons connected to your brain and spinal cord all linked to the muscles throughout your body. Because they are all associated, when the motor neurons die, well the brain essentially forgets how to control muscular movement.”

  “Very interesting,” JoJo replied.

  “Yeah, super interesting,” I grunted as Dr. Atlee removed the needled. He held gauze to the puncture wounds as I recovered from the electrode shocks and needle.

  “You did really good, kiddo. Go on and get dressed and I’ll have Patricia, our Respiratory Doctor to come in. She wants to do a base point test so we can track your progress throughout your visits.”

  “Cool, cool,” I muttered as I sat up on the table. The crunching sound of the sanitary paper crinkled as I twisted to an upright position. The cringe worthy sound was like nails on a chalkboard for me. Dr. Atlee exited as I jumped off the table to get dressed.

  “Those really were cute undies,” she laughed, easing my pain.

  “Thanks for that,” I gave her a sideways grin.

  “Oh you thought I was doing that for you?” she asked.

  “I know damn well you’ve Googled and researched everything on the disease, you knew damn well what you were doing,” I smiled.

  “Yeah, well, never hurts to hear it again,” she winked.

  A slight knock came from the door, followed by a boisterous, “Hello, Hello!”

  “We’re decent,” Jo echoed.

  Taking my seat back on the examination table, Patricia placed an array of gadgets on the physician’s counter.

  “So I hear you work for the Saints?” she questioned.

  “How the…” I began.

  “No secrets, are safe secrets here,” she grinned from ear to ear.

  “If I say yes, will you take it easy on me? Cause if you’re an Atlanta fan, I’d say GO FALCONS.”

  “I’m a Saints fan, but we really need to talk about Drew. He is a hot mess, girl.”

  Patricia was amazing. She didn’t make me feel like I had a disease, but talked to me like a regular human being. She cleaned prepared her devices as she carried on a casual conversation. Approaching my side, she lifted a device to my mouth.

  “The is going to test your lungs and your diaphragm’s aptitude. I need you to take a huge intake of breath and blow as hard as you can.

  “Aight girl, I need you to take a big, huge breath and blow harder than Drew Brees did this year!”

  Before I had the chance to laugh, Patricia had the tube in my mouth. Clinched between my teeth was a piece of plastic shaped to the inner contours of my lips. Inhaling a deep breath, I exhaled with such force I nearly thought I was turning blue.

  “Good, good, good. Push, push, push. Excellent job girl!”

  Panting, I gave her the thumbs up.

  “You got a good set of lungs on you girl. Let’s keep that up! Stay away from smokers, you know the ‘Happy Birthday’ deal, right?”

  “Guess it’s about time to quit Jo!”

  “The what?” JoJo chimed in diverting topics, while Patricia set up another breathing exercise.

  “Whenever she goes to wash her hands, she needs to scrub and wash them long enough for her to sing Happy Birthday twice.”

  “Oh this is gold!” Jo chortled.

  “The main goal is to keep her as healthy as we can and that includes you, smart ass,” Patricia laughed as she joked with JoJo.

  “What did I do?”

  “That means Kat, you and JoJo need to get flu and pneumonia shots. No arguing.”

  “Ugh, and I thought we were getting along so well, Patricia. But don’t they make you sick?”

  “Yeah, I heard they make you really sick,” Jo echoed.

  “Horse shit! It’s all in your noggin’. People always say that crap.”

  “Then shoot me up Doc,” I joked.

  After a few more respiratory test, Patricia left us, rotating several more doctors. After three hours of questions and evaluations, I wanted to scream. Just before the yelps of conceded came from my lips, I received a ping on my cell. Before I could retaliate, JoJo scrambled to grab the device.

  Lee: Hanging in there, Dove?

  Jo looked at me wide eyes. I could see her scheming behind those green eyes of hers as she prepared to type.

  “Oh hell no! You are NOT sending him a message,” I screamed.

  Watching her scroll through the messages, she gave me a wicked grin.

  “Looks like you’re doing just fine on you own, sweet pea,” she stated, tossing me my cellphone.

  Me: Barely! Nurse Ratchet over here wants to give me a few shots.

  Lee: I’ll plead your innocence when you kill her for coming near you with her needles.

  Me: Hold me back!

  Lee: Ha ha ha. Everything else going okay?

  Me: They had to do another EMG, argh!

  Lee: Fuck! I’m sorry, Kat. Those are no fun.

  Me: No worries, Jo was here to distract me by trying to convert my, very gay, Doctor to turn for her.

  Lee: Oh, Lord. Sounds entertaining though. You know, I could go with you next time.

  Lee: If you want. Just saying.

  Me: I’ll think about it. I’m not sure you’re ready for my Wonder Woman bad-assery!

  Lee: Huh?

  Me: You told me to be a bad ass, so I just so happened to have on my Wonder Woman, world domination panties. Although, I was completely unaware that I was going to be doing an EMG and therefore had to apologize to the Doc for the sheer rear end.

  Lee: Oh I’m definitely coming next time then!

  Somehow I knew he was going to say that, yet it didn’t bother me. In fact, it was kind of naughty telling him about my panties. Sexting without intentionally Sexting. Genius!

  Me: I’ll consider your offer :)

  Lee: Stop considering and say yes, woman!

  Me: Maybe.

  Lee: You can’t talk about your panties and not give a guy hope, Dove. Evil, manipulative woman that you are lol.

  Me: Strategic is more like it.

  Lee: Fair enough. When can I see you again?

  Me: I don’t know, I suddenly feel a cold coming on. :::cough, cough::: lol

  Lee: Well, I suggest you go get your flu shot now. Kill that “cold” stat!

  Me: I’ll text or call later, K?

  Lee: Just as long as you don’t ever say, “K”, again. It’s insulting lol

  Me: Fine.

  Lee: That too! Dove, I may need to take you over my knee before too long if you keep up these antics lol

  Me: Is that a promise or a threat?

  I knew damn well I shouldn’t have responded like I did, but he left it wide open for interpretation. Plus, he made it so damn easy! I could see his response bubbles bouncing across my screen as the RN came into the room to administer the shots. The bubbles danced a rhythmic dance just like my heart as I prepared myself for the prick of the needle.

  Just as the needle pierced my skin, Lee’s message came though.

  Lee: Promise…FRIEND :)

  Lee’s response was a welcome distraction as the nurse removed the needle.

  “Any Band-Aid preference?” She giggled her innocent chimes.

  “Yeah. You got any Wonder Woman?” I smirked.

  After Lee’s response, I felt bad for putting the thought in his head. We didn’t talk for several days as I was swamped with work and with Mardi Gras coming up. This year the New Orleans Saints would be on a float in one of the parades. At least I had hoped. I was calling everyone to see how I could make it happen. The only problem, this damn cold was holding me
back. So much for not getting sick! You lied Patricia!

  Finally, I was at a point of exhaustion and needed to finish my day at home. Details would have to wait for now. Currently, I needed R&R and bad! My body ached, my head was on fire and all I wanted to do was sleep. The struggle to keep my eyes open was real and when I did shut them, they felt as if they would burn out of my head from the fever crawling across my skin.

  Parts of my muscles hurt already, but with this cold, it was exasperated tenfold. No wonder Patricia asked me to keep myself healthy. In actuality this was the single worst feeling in the world right about now.

  The shot hadn’t effected Jo in the least, which made me all the madder. She opted to stay later at work tonight in order to avoid the dangers of my contamination. Smart girl.

  Just as I had curled up into a cocoon on the couch, flicking on trashy television, a text pinged through. I struggled to grab the device as I lowered the TV volume as if we’re going to affect my typing or something. It was very much like turning down the radio when you’re trying to find your targeted location. Not because GPS was talking, but as a gut reaction.

  It was Lee. I had missed talking with him, but with the workload and cold, I was swamped. It wasn’t intentional, but by the time I crossed the threshold of the house, I would head straight to bed.

  Lee: You okay?

  Me: Hardly, I’m sick :(

  Lee: Is this a brush off or a seriously ill-timed joke from the other day?

  Me: Unfortunately, poorly timed joke. I think it was the flu shot.

  Lee: Even sick, you are hilarious. Hate to break it to you, but you can’t get sick from the flu shot, Dove.

  Me: I just needed an excuse, truthfully. I was swamped with work and failed terribly to take care of myself.

  Lee: I know work can get crazy, but YOU are your number one priority, especially now.

  Me: Are you trying to parent me?

  Lee: If that’s what it takes :)

  Me: Oh, okay. Well, I’m exhausted and need to rest. Can we argue about my poor attempt of keeping a healthy regime later?

  Lee: We aren’t arguing, mon Cher, but I will let you go rest. Sweet dreams.

  I may have been a little harsh on Lee. I didn’t have the willpower to argue semantics though. One thing I could hope for were sweet dreams of Lee dancing behind my lids. Just as I was getting to the good stuff, watching Lee strip down to his skivvies, I was out cold from the drugs.

  I must have been out for a while, because when I awoke, the sun was setting. I sat up, a little light headed. The throbbing in my head resembled knocking. Wait. That was knocking. I looked horrible and had no intention of getting off the couch in my tiny boxers and oversized t-shirt.

  When the knocks became persistent, growing louder with each pound, I knew it was unavoidable. I had to answer the door.

  I unlocked the massive door and flung it open, “WHAT. DO. YOU. WANT?”

  Standing behind the door was a pajama clad Lee. Gripped in his hands was a bag of takeout, and a tangling plastic bag filled with mystery goods. My heart skipped a beat as my mouth failed to communicate my apologies.

  “WOW, do you always answer the door like that? How rude,” he smiled, giving me a hard time.

  “Sorry, I just woke up,” I said defensive.

  “I’ll give you a pass this time since you aren’t feeling well. But next time, oh hell no,” he chuckled.

  I felt rude not to invite him in, but I wasn’t even sure I wanted him to see me this way.

  “Cute ‘jammies, Dove.”

  “You too,” I giggle for the first time all day. “I’m digging the Thor PJ’s.”

  “I felt it only appropriate, especially if you were wearing those cute little Wonder Woman panties,” he chuckled.

  “Nice try. Unfortunately, your dreams are short lived. I think you would be highly disappointed.”

  “Let me be the judge of that,” he smirked.

  “Yeah, right!”

  “Granny panties.”

  “What?” I exclaimed.

  “You are undoubtedly wearing granny panties. It’s the only logical answer.”

  “Whatever, so what if they are of the granny variety. I’m sick, that warrants a pass on the sexiness.”

  “I agree, just as long as you don’t make it a habit. I don’t want to be able to use them as a tent should push comes to shove.”

  “Why would you say that? We are friends and as such, you are not allowed to see them regardless of our hypothetical outdoors adventures,” I smiled.

  “Yeah. Okay,” he retorted.

  “So…what’s in the bag?” I asked as I crash-landed on the couch.

  Taking a seat next to me, “It’s my emboli survival kit.”

  “Your what?” I laugh, feeling woozy from the act.

  “My ebola survival kit,” he stated with such a straight face it was actually comical.

  “You do realize I simply have a cold; no emboli here, Doctors Without Boarders.”

  “Well, shit! I guess I better take this soup and bag of goodies home then,” he stood to leave.

  I grabbed his arm, pulling him back to the couch. Lee opened up the brown paper bag, extracting two Rubbermaid containers. Filled to the brim with, what looked liked, homemade chicken soup.

  “Courtesy of Rene and Lette at Frissons. They miss you by the way.”

  “I miss them too. When I get better, we need to pay them a visit.”

  “Consider it a….good hell, an outing,” he grinned.

  I felt awkward on what to say, but instead said the stupidest thing imaginable, “So, what’s in the bag?” How selfish did I sound?

  Lee leaned over his bag of treasures, eyeing my prying eyes. Clutching the bag to his chest, he denied me of my surprise. Finally extracting an item, he tossed me several chick magazines – Empire Magazine, Cosmo and People. Nothing like fashion, sex and celebrity gossip.

  “Every girl deserves a little trashy gossip,” he quirked.

  “And they’re new too! I’m impressed, Daniels.”

  “Also, I brought a few movies to keep us occupied,” he removed several chick flicks. Sweet Home Alabama, Pitch Perfect 1 and 2, Burlesque and my absolute favorite - Clue.

  “That’s a lot of movies you got there.” I felt for Lee. What man in his right mind would sit through five rom-com movies and lived to tell the tail?

  “Yeah, but I need to get you better so we can knock out more bucket list items. Besides, Mardi Gras is only days away. That’s a big task right there,” he stated as he stood to pop in Clue for us.

  “And you think magazines and movies are going to speed up the process?” I chuckled.

  “A good attitude is always the way to fight off any cold. Plus, Rene’s chicken soup will take care of the rest.”

  “What’s so special about chicken soup?” I said. Cracking the lid of the carton, I took a whiff of the heavenly broth. There was definitely a strong aroma about it. Not the familiar smell I was accustomed to.

  “What’s in this?” I asked as my eyes started to water. The pungent smell of garlic and cayenne pepper flooded my nostrils.

  “Oh, just a little secret bayou recipe guaranteed to clear those sinus’ out quicker than you can say Friends,” he grinned. “Here I also got you a special spoon to help.”

  Lee had read my mind. I was beginning to worry if I was going to be able to eat soup in front of him without looking like a total fool. It was already difficult to cut, and shovel food, but soup was another beast all together. My hand would shake at just the right angle, precisely when I rotated my wrist to feed myself.

  Lee’s gift was a Godsend. He had actually purchased me an adaptive spoon so I wouldn’t have to rotate my wrist to each soup. This would be so minor to anyone else, but for me, it was incredibly thoughtful.

  “You’re lucky I have zero strength to fight you on that,” I stated as I removed the spoon from the plastic wrapper. Dipping the spoon into the soup, I blew over the contents before placing it on
my tongue. As bazaar as it may seem, the concoction was amazing. Lee was right too. The broth alone did wonders for my head, clearing my passageways enough to breathe through my nose and not my mouth for once.

  “Pretty good, huh?”

  “Don’t let this go to your head, but yes, it’s pretty good.”

  “If you’re a good girl, you can even have some of my grilled cheese sandwich.” The words just rolled off his tongue like honey – so natural.

  “Is that so?” I bantered. Even sick, I could still flirt, “And if I’m not good?”

  “You can’t say things like that, Dove,” he glanced at me as he ceased unwrapping the still hot sandwich.

  “Then don’t set yourself up for answers you don’t want to hear. Besides, I was only joking,” I said, trying to recover as if it really were a joke.

  “Just making sure. Here, open up,” he offered me a bite of grilled cheese as I finished my soup in its entirety.

  “I thought I was going to have to force feed you,” he bulked as he gobbled the rest of his sandwich.

  “I was starving. I haven’t really had a decent meal in days. That hit the spot,” I stated as I leaned back on the couch. Patting my tummy, I rubbed my illusive food baby. “Is baby happy?”

  “Do you normally talk to your stomach like that?” He laughed, wiping his crumbed lips.