Stranger Than Fiction

by Jeanine Hoffman

  “That’s what I’m here for, Tori. I spent a little extra time when we were in the operating room. I cleaned the area, exposed a bit more to visualize the tendons and ligaments. There was a small nick on one of your tendons. Left on its own it might have healed just fine but it just as easily could have caused you problems later. I was able to suture that for you, re-attach the blood vessels, and close you up fairly quickly after the tendon repair. All in all, I predict an excellent recovery. There will most likely be a little occupational therapy to ensure no loss of fine motor skills. That can be covered while you are here if you like and you can do the work at home once we release you.”

  “So, it could have been worse. Thank you for convincing me to let you do the surgery. I’m grateful to you for staying so late to wait to talk to me as well. I didn’t expect that, to be honest.”

  “We like to do things a little differently here at The Center. We offer a full range of services, including psychiatric care, physical therapy, water therapy, and teaching facilities. It’s all very high tech and up to date while working with the best of ancient medical practices from various cultures. I left a larger practice to join the research and medical staff here.”

  “Really. Any regrets?” I was finding myself drawn to this powerful and caring woman. I wanted to know more about her and what made her tick.

  “None. I was burning myself out. Now I can choose my cases, continue with my research, and spend time with my parents and extended family. I’m a local girl who made it in the big city and missed her hometown.”

  The doctor grinned at me with childlike enthusiasm for her hometown. I was intrigued. “So, what kind of research do you do?”

  Dr. Greenwood hesitated. “Just some stuff that most people find either gross or boring. I won’t bog you down in it. Let’s get a game plan set up for you. I’m keeping you here at least two full days.”

  Before I could protest her hand was raised and she had a no-nonsense expression on her face. I agreed. “Okay, two days.”

  “Glad you see it my way. I want to monitor you and your hand. Also, I understand from Beth that you had a rough awakening earlier. Want to tell me about it?”

  “Switching to psych now, Doc? I’m fine. It’s faded already.” A blatant lie but I wasn’t ready to show this woman, this competent and attractive woman, how cracked my nut might be.

  “Are you sure? It’s quite common for people coming out of general anesthesia to experience vibrant and confusing dreams. You had a rather traumatic day as well.” She was silent a moment. “Well, we’ll leave it at that for now. We have therapists on staff if you decide you want to talk to anyone about your dream. I’m going to head home for a few hours then I’ll be back this afternoon to check on you again. When I come back, we’ll change that dressing. Any questions?”

  “I can’t think of anything. Wait, you said this was a teaching hospital, right? Did some Doogie Howser stitch me up or was it you?”

  A light tinkle of joy came from her, “Thanks I needed that. No Doogies here, I promise. We do have residents but I only take a fellowship candidate now and again. I’m choosy and not too many have met my standards. I do have a new fellow starting next week. Maybe she can remove your stitches for me.”

  We said good night and Beth came back in to check my pain level.

  “Actually, it’s not too bad. Maybe a four out of ten.”

  “That’s because you’re still well loaded from your surgery. I can give you a little boost now to help you get some rest. Rest is really the best thing for you at this point.”

  “Sure, thank you. A little relief might be nice. I don’t know about rest though. Maybe I’ll watch some television since I don’t have a roomie to disturb.”

  Beth got the pain medicine and injected it into my IV port, then helped me get set up with the TV remote system. I suspect I fell asleep before she left the room.

  “GOOD MORNING, MS. Monroe, I’m Debby, your nurse this morning. How are you feeling?”

  I awoke with a start, willing my heart and breathing to calm down. A buxom blond woman stood next to my bed, turned on lights and checked my IV. “Uh, okay. Aren’t you the chipper one bright and early?”

  Fine, I’m not at my best first thing in the morning but really? Hello? Sleeping here, people! Surgery?

  “Well, I’m certainly sorry to have to tell you that it’s time for me to check your vitals and give you your antibiotic. It’s going in through the IV, so no worries. Once I get this done, we’ll see if you can tolerate some breakfast, how does that sound?”

  “Fine I suppose. I’m not really a breakfast person. Some tea and toast will be enough.”

  “Well, we’ll see what they bring up but if it isn’t to your liking we can always get something else for you. Dietary will be around to ask you about meals for the rest of today and breakfast tomorrow. Your doctor has you on a soft diet right now, just to make sure you have an easy time digesting after your surgery.” Debby fussed at the IV pump and scribbled some notes on a pad she pulled from her scrubs pocket.

  “It was my hand, not my stomach. What’s the problem with food?”

  “Standard practice. The antibiotics and the pain medicine can make things tough on your tummy and we like to keep things mild and easy to digest at first. You’ll be back to regular meals in no time at all. Now, how’s your pain today?”

  I shrugged. “Not bad. Nothing some Tylenol can’t handle.”

  “I’ll check your chart and see what the doctor has ordered for you. I’ve been told that you have no family in the area. Do you want to have one of our volunteers bring by some books or visit for a while?”

  “Seriously?” I realized I might be laying on grumpy me a bit thick so I tried to reign myself in a bit. “Uh, yeah, books would be good. Thanks. I didn’t think to grab anything when I left my place because I figured I’d be back pretty fast.”

  “I’ll bring in a toiletry kit after you eat and you can get cleaned up. Don’t be hesitant to ask for help. I’m afraid you can’t use that left hand at all yet and it has to stay dry. I can wrap it for you before you shower. Someone will be in with breakfast.”

  As swiftly as she arrived, Hurricane Debby whirled from the room. I raised the head of my bed so that I was sitting upright. My head felt much more clear than the previous night. Amazing what some sleep can do for a person. I found my clothes in the drawer of the bedside table. My phone was in the pocket of my pants and I grabbed it like a lifeline.

  I was checking my e-mail when breakfast arrived. A slender young man arrived with my tray, set it up and left, all without speaking. Moments later, a slightly older man who looked a lot like the first came in to my room with what looked like menus.

  “Hello, I’m Mike with dietary services. I see my brother delivered your tray already. Is everything okay?”

  “Hi. Yeah, I’m just not much of a Cream of Wheat fan. But the tea is good.”

  “I can order something else if you like. Oatmeal perhaps? Oh, I see, soft diet. I can still offer plain oatmeal but if you eat either that or the Cream of Wheat and all goes well, I can get you some real food for lunch.” He smiled what I’m sure was a charming smile, but at the moment I was overwhelmed.

  “No, I’ll eat this. There’s enough honey left from the tea to help me eat it. What’s for lunch?”

  “I’ll leave these menu cards with you. All you have to do is circle your choices and leave them on your tray. When we get the tray the menu cards will be entered into the system. If you have any special requests or dietary needs, just make notes and we will do our best. It’s not the Hilton but our kitchen isn’t too bad. Is there anything else I can get you for now?”

  “Nope, thanks. I’m good. I promise I’ll give the mushy stuff a shot.”

  Mike waved and left, and finally I had a moment of silence as the door swung shut behind him.

  I stirred all the honey and sugar I could find into the Cream of Wheat. With the added sugar, it wasn’t too bad. It wasn’t food but I w
asn’t really all that hungry yet. I had to talk to the doc about the drugs they had me on. I felt a bit like I had lost connection to my body and I didn’t understand it.

  After breakfast, Debby did bring in the promised toiletry kit, wrapped my left hand and arm in plastic, and allowed me to shower on my own only after insisting on showing me the pull cord in the shower, the one by the sink, and pointing out the handle grips built in everywhere. Liability insurance must be a bitch.

  Just before noon I was clean and sitting in the guest chair with my arm up on the bed to keep it elevated while I scanned the channels on the television. It was a deal I made with Debby to avoid the sling she tried to wrap me in after my shower.

  A knock sounded on my open door. I had left it open to avoid the claustrophobic nature of the room from getting to me. There was a window and I had the curtains wide open so I could see nature even if I couldn’t be out in it. I turned from the TV and saw yet another stranger. This one was wearing jeans and a T-shirt that had something about Sasquatch on it. I liked her already.

  “Come in. I’m pretty sure I don’t know you though. You sure you have the right room?”

  “If you’re Ms. Monroe, then I’m at the right place. I’m Dena, the volunteer that was going to bring over some books. I have a cart of them outside that I can wheel in if you’d like. Sorry I couldn’t get over sooner but we have a special case in pediatrics that kept me busy. I wanted to wait until his parents could get here.”

  “They didn’t come with him?”

  “He was flown in this morning and they had to drive about six hours to get here. He’s all settled now though and I’m able to bring you some supplies for the duration.”

  Dena nipped out to the hall and brought in a rolling book cart that seemed to be almost as large as her five foot six inch stature. I’m no giant at five-ten but I still had a few inches on her.

  “Well, that’s more than I expected. I figured there would only be a few copies of grocery store pulp left behind by folks who stayed here before. This is cool.”

  Dena blushed. “Thanks. This is a special project of mine actually. I collect books from a variety of sources to try to ensure I have something for everyone. Now, you don’t strike me as a horror lover, what do you like to read?”

  I thought about saying something flip but changed my mind for some reason. “I don’t suppose you have any lesbian fiction?”

  Dena gave me a smile. “I do. Hang on, let me swing the cart around.”

  This cart had four shelves on each side and each shelf was packed with books. Pockets on the front and back held magazines and kids books as well. She sure was thorough.

  “Here we are. The second shelf has a lot of lesbian works, although there might be a few bisexual or transgendered books as well. The cart is due for some reorganization soon.

  See anything you like?”

  I silently scanned the selection and felt pleased to see a couple of my own titles on the shelf. I finally found two that I hadn’t read yet. Both were paranormal or speculative fiction books. Since I don’t write that sub genre they are totally safe to read even if I’m in the midst of writing one of my lesbian romances. I don’t like to read the same category I’m writing in; it makes me feel leery of crossing over characters or traits.

  “I think I’ll try these. Is it okay to borrow two? I’m here for a couple of days and I read pretty fast. I prefer books to TV too so I’ll spend more time with them.”

  “Of course! I do ask that if you finish them and want to return them you dial the number on this card and someone will get them. If you want the cart to come back, just let whomever answers know. And, if you find yourself ready to go home, just leave the books at the nurses’ station, we always check in with them when we make our rounds.” Dena handed me a card that she pulled from an envelope attached to the cart. She made a notation of the books I had chosen and put her log back on the cart.

  “Hey, thank you. I’ve been going out of my mind here. I’m usually pretty self-sufficient but I’ve been bored since I woke up. This really helps. I’m not sure how long I’ll be here but when I get out, I know I have to come back for the stitches to be removed. Would you mind if I brought some books from my place to give to your program?”

  “Mind? Of course not. I love when we get new books. I cycle things through and I keep an inventory list so if a patient asks for something specific, I can try to fulfill it. If books start overwhelming me, then I donate some to The Center’s charitable foundation. They have a mobile library to reach out to people with issues that keep them homebound. I’ve helped keep them stocked with material for the past couple of years.”

  “Years? Don’t take this the wrong way but you don’t look old enough. You’re what, an early twenty-something?” I wasn’t blowing smoke either. She was obviously in very good shape, her brown eyes had a sparkle to them that drew me in, and her brown hair was glossy and in a trendy short style that was cute rather than appearing butch.

  Dena threw a look at me that I couldn’t figure out. “You really think I look that young?”

  “Uh, yeah. Did I say something wrong?”

  “Not at all. I’ve been stressing out because my thirtieth is coming up in a month and I got all fixated on the number and where my life is compared to where I hoped it would be. You know, normal angst. Except, I’m not normally an angst kind of person. It’s been an odd experience.”

  “Take from an artist then. You look amazing and I truly thought you were a college kid doing a community project.”

  “Truth is, it sort of started out that way. I’m a librarian. I just finished my master’s a few years ago and in my spare time, this is one of the things I do.” Dena patted her cart.

  “Excuse me if I put my foot in my mouth again, but, you sure don’t look like any librarians I’ve every met. Where do you work?”

  “I’m over in the university’s main library. I work with the general catalog, assist students and professors with research, that sort of thing. It's a great place to work and I’m lucky enough to have a great schedule. Plus, we’re encouraged by the university to do some community service hours, so I even get a few hours a month here during my normal shift at work.”

  “Nice. You have to love it when an employer pays people to do community service work. Not enough of that happening these days.” I squirmed around a bit. The feeling was coming back in my hand and not in a pleasant way.

  “Does your employer do that too? I’m sorry, I never asked where you work.”

  “I work from home. I’m actually self-employed so you could say that if I did community service work, it would be paid. Instead, I admit, I spend most of my time working around my place so that I can stay essentially off the grid. I raise a lot of my own organic food, use all natural sources for electricity, and do as much as I can to reduce my carbon footprint.”

  The truth was, I wasn’t comfortable outing myself as a decently known published author. I worked under pseudonyms for a reason. I liked my anonymity. I certainly wasn’t going to tell a librarian about it.

  Dena tilted her head and grinned at me. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you evaded the question of what you do, but I’ll let it slide. I have to go visit a few more rooms before I head out. Is there anything I can get you before I go?”

  Your number, reverberated in my head but I let it go without speaking it. Instead, I shook my head, pointed at the books I had on the bedside table, and tried to smile. “I’m good. Thanks for bringing them. This will make the time pass faster at least.”

  Dena nodded and started pushing her cart. “I’ll stop by next time I’m in and see if you need anything else. Get well soon.” With that said, she was gone.

  For some reason, the room felt emptier, lonelier than it had before Dena’s arrival. I refused to think about it. Instead, I picked up a book and started to read.

  Chapter Three

  A LITTLE AFTER two in the afternoon, a sharp knock followed by my door swinging open announced anoth
er interruption. This time, it was a welcome sight. Dr. Greenwood was back and I hoped there would be good news about a release date. Instead, she brought with her a nurse carrying a tub of supplies. Looked like it was time to change the giant dressing.

  “Good afternoon, Tori. How’s the pain been today?”

  “Manageable. I’m trying to stick to Tylenol today instead of whatever wacky juice you guys gave me last night.”

  “Why’s that? Side effects or stubbornness?” She motioned to the nurse to clear the bedside tray and set up the supplies. In the meantime, the doctor pulled her stethoscope from around her neck and started listening to my lungs, heart, and even my stomach.

  “Not to tell you how to do your job, Doc, but my heart isn’t down there.”

  “Everyone’s a critic. I just wanted to make sure the anesthesia wasn’t slowing down your inner workings. Everything sounded fine.”

  She slung the scope back around her neck and washed her hands, dried them and pulled some gloves on. By the time Dr. Greenwood turned to face me, the nurse, one I didn’t recognize, had my left arm situated on the tray table on top of a slim pillow that had a protective cover. She also had arranged me in a semi-reclined position on the bed.

  “Let’s unwrap this and see how I did.”

  The doctor removed the outer bandage covering which was essentially a ACE wrap. Next, a few layers of gauze, some padding, more gauze, and finally I could see my hand. There was still a large padded dressing over the palm where the cut had been.

  “Tori, you might want to look away. While I can promise minimal scarring once it’s healed, right now it’s not going to look good to the untrained eye.”

  “Seriously? I had my hands inside the guts of a deer. I’m not squeamish, Doc.” The absolute truth was, I was terrified and scared about what lay beneath the bandages. Until I saw it for myself, my writer’s mind would keep spinning things so grotesque they could never be true.