“No, I’m sorry. It’s Dr. Nelson,” says the doctor as she enters my room.
“Oh,” the disappointment shows in my voice. My vision has almost returned to normal at this point. Things are still a little fuzzy, but now I can actually see Dr. Nelson’s face. “Sorry, I must’ve been dreaming.”
“Was it a dream or a nightmare?”
“Maybe a little bit of both.” I watch as Dr. Nelson nears my bed.
“How are you feeling?”
“Alright.”
“Any headache?” she asks as she shines a light into my eyes.
“A little.” I have to turn my entire torso to watch where she’s going next. The collar has limited my neck to little or no motion.
She looks over my chart. “Have you gotten up at all today?”
“No, I was told I couldn’t.”
“Interesting…” her voice trails off as she responds.
“How so?”
“I’m just impressed you actually listened.” She gives me a satisfied smirk as her eyes dart to me and then back down at my chart.
“I didn’t think I had a choice,” I mumble.
“Well, I’d like to keep you one more night,” she abruptly announces as she peers down at me over the rim of her glasses.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” I groan, throwing my head back onto my bed. I wince in pain; that probably wasn’t the wisest thing to do.
“I know it’s not what you wanted to hear, but you still have a headache, and considering they had to put the catheter back in…”
Her words begin to worry me. “Is there something wrong?” I ask, trying to disguise the nervousness in my voice.
“It’s just precautionary. I’d rather be safe than sorry.”
“Sorry about what?” my voice rises out of fear. “I got a fight in just under a month.”
“A fight? Oh, you won’t be fighting anytime soon, Mr. Vega,” she’s shaking her head in disapproval.
“What do you mean I ‘won’t be fighting?’”
“As your doctor, I can’t recommend that you get back in the ring in a month. I would say you should stay out of the ring for at least six months to a year.”
“A year?!” I erupt.
“At least six months,” she says in a calm, mellowing tone. Her face has softened as pity spreads over it.
“You don’t understand,” I begin pleading my case to her, “my entire career is riding on my next fight.” I’m hoping she hears the desperation in my voice, and that she finds it in her heart to change her mind.
She sighs heavily, looking at me like I’m a pathetic fool. “No doctor on this earth would release you to fight in a month, Mr. Vega.”
“And what if I just decide to fight against your orders?”
“I guess that’s your choice,” she stares at me in amazement, “but I’m not saying six months to inconvenience you. I’m saying you shouldn’t fight to keep you from suffering any further injuries. I won’t be liable for any damage that may occur during that fight and I’ll need for you to sign a release stating that.”
“Give me the papers and I’ll sign ‘em right now,” I demand as I tap on the table directly in front of me.
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’m as serious as a heart attack, Doc. Boxing is my life.”
“You’re going to risk your health for a sport?”
“It’s not a sport to me. It’s my career, just like being a doctor is yours.”
“I’m sure you could find something else to do for work, Mr. Vega.”
“You don’t get it. I never went to college and I don’t have a fancy degree. Boxing is all I know; it’s what I was born to do, and it’s the only thing I’m good at.”
“Well, I highly doubt that,” her eyes narrow as a skeptical look spreads across her face. “I’ll be back in the morning,” she turns toward the door. “Dr. Willis will be the doctor on duty this evening, and I’m sure he’ll be in to introduce himself shortly. Feel free to ask him questions.”
“Do you think he’ll let me fight?”
She shakes her head and laughs a bit. “You’re a stubborn one, aren’t you?”
“Oh, you have no idea.”
“Go easy on the nurses tonight,” she touches my foot gently and smiles. “I’ll see you in the morning, Mr. Vega.”
“See you in the morning, Doc.” She disappears and I hear the door shut softly. Staring up at the ceiling, I think about what she’s just told me. She’s out of her mind if she thinks I’m not fighting. I’m not gonna give up my chance at a title shot. I scoff at my thoughts. She’s obviously takin’ some of the drugs she prescribes. My phone buzzes and I glance at the message that lights up my screen; it’s Kitten.
Kitten – Hey doll. How you feeling?
Me – I’m stuck here another night.
Kitten – I’m sorry to hear that. But if that’s what the doctor thinks is best…
Ugh, not her too. What is it with all these people siding with the doctors? I throw my phone down beside me on the bed, not wanting to hear anything else she has to say. Shifting from one side to another, I try to get comfortable. Jesus Christ. I begin fidgeting with the neck brace that’s constricting my movements. Finally, frustrated with all of it, I reach around to unfasten the brace then whip it across the room. I don’t need that fuckin’ thing. I slowly roll my head in a circle, then gently massage my neck down to my shoulders, trying to loosen up the tender muscles.
I’m suddenly in desperate need of getting out of this bed. I can’t just sit here anymore; I’m going to go stir crazy. I buzz the nurse’s station.
There’s a knock at the door and then, “Is everything okay in here?” I’m thrown off when I hear a man’s voice. In walks an African American man, who looks to be in his mid- to late thirties. He’s roughly five foot ten with an average build. I can’t help but give him a strange look as he stands at the foot of my bed. “You okay?” he asks, giving me a similar look back.
“Are you the doctor?”
“No, I’m your nurse for the night.”
“Nurse?” I laugh.
“I’m sorry, were you expecting some hot piece of ass to come give you a sponge bath?” He flashes me a smug look. “I don’t mean to disappoint you, but I’ll be the one who’s giving you your bath tonight.”
“Nah, I’m good.” I push myself back further into the bed. “I should be out of here first thing tomorrow; I’ll take a shower when I get home.”
“No, it’s doctor’s orders. All patients must be bathed if they’re unable to get up and shower on their own. And let me tell you, I’m looking forward to this one!” He winks at me.
He’s got to be fuckin’ kidding. I have nothing against gay men, but I’m not letting him or his sponge anywhere near me. I force a smile onto my face and reiterate, “No, really, it’s okay.”
“Good evening, Mr. Vega,” a young woman, thankfully, interrupts our conversation. She’s very petite, with a fair complexion and shoulder length, deep auburn hair. The teal scrubs she’s wearing tell me she’s part of the hospital staff, but what part? She looks too young to be a nurse. Maybe she’s a college student volunteering? As she reaches for my chart, I notice a very colorful tattoo peeking out of the sleeve on her left arm; I give her a suspicious look.
“So, I see you’ve met Brett,” she states as she reads my chart.
“Yes, we were just getting acquainted when you walked in,” the male nurse replies.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I protest.
“Oh, you were telling him about his sponge bath?” she asks with a smile.
“Yes, and I’m pretty sure he’s looking forward to it.”
“Umm… nooo!” my voice rises as panic races through my body.
He bursts into laughter. “I’m just pulling your leg! I’m not giving you a sponge bath.”
I begin to laugh along with him. “Jesus Christ, you really had me goin’.”
“Sorry, I had to bust your balls. Dr.
Nelson said you were giving the nurses a run for their money this afternoon. So, it’s only fair I give you a taste of your own medicine. No pun intended.”
I let out a huge sigh of relief. “Shit man, you can pull both of my legs, as long as you’re not the one giving me a bath.”
He extends his hand to me, “I’m Brett, by the way.”
I shake his hand, “Saint.”
“And this is Julie, your nurse practitioner.”
“You’re a nurse?”
“Correction, a nurse practitioner,” Brett adds.
“How old are you?” I blurt out.
“Old enough,” she counters sarcastically.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”
“And how, exactly, did you mean it?”
“It’s just, you look so young. Too young to be a nurse, let alone a nurse practitioner, and you have a tattoo.”
“Well, Mr. Vega, I’m twenty-seven; not that it’s any of your business. As for my tattoo, lots of people have them. It certainly doesn’t mean I can’t do my job well.”
Oh fuck, now I’ve offended her. First, I called her young, and now I’ve insulted her by making a comment about her tattoo. Great… just great.
“So, what can we do for you?” Julie asks.
I’m staring at them both like a deer in the headlights. They’re making me nervous just staring at me. My mouth begins to water and I start feeling dizzy; I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and exhale. When I reopen them, I feel a little better.
Finally finding the courage, I ask, “Any chance I can get the goddamn catheter out? And, I’d really love to get up and walk around. My entire body is stiff from just lying here.”
Brett looks over at Julie and then Julie looks at me. “Yes, I think we can do that. But since you’ve been on a saline IV for the past six hours, if you don’t urinate on your own, we’ll have to conduct another ultrasound to see if there is excess urine in your bladder. If there is, and there’s more than six hundred milliliters of fluid in it, then the catheter will have to go back in again.”
I stare at her blankly, not having a clue what the hell six hundred milliliters adds up to, and definitely not wanting to go through the catheterization for the second time today. “How about in English.”
“We can take it out; let’s hope and pray you can take a piss and empty your bladder or it’ll have to go back in… again,” Brett chimes in. “How’s that for English?”
“I can understand that,” I smirk.
“One of us will be back shortly to remove the catheter and IV for you,” Julie says.
As soon as they leave the room, I grab my phone again and text Jimmy.
Me – I’m stuck here another night. Can you let Frankie know I won’t be there in the morning?
Jimmy – Awww. That totally sucks.
Me – You’re tellin’ me. Can you also check in on Jase? I’m worried about him.
Jimmy – No problem, Saint. Steph and I will take a ride over there. We’ll stop by Luigi’s and grab a pizza for him.
My stomach immediately starts to growl and my mouth begins to water over the thought of pizza. I look up at the clock and see that it’s after seven. No wonder my stomach is growling, I haven’t eaten in close to seven hours. Where the hell is my supper?
Me – Thanks, man.
Jimmy – Don’t mention it.
I ring the nurse’s station again. Within seconds, Brett’s walking through door booming, “You rang,” in his best Lurch impression. I can’t help but laugh; this guy is hilarious.
“Am I ever gonna get fed in this place?” I question him.
“You never ate?”
“No, and I’m starving.”
“Let me go find out what happened to your dinner. Hang tight.”
Ten minutes have passed when Brett finally returns with a tray of food. “I’ve got great news for you.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yup, here’s the crappy hospital dinner you were bitching about.” He sets the tray down on the table in front of me. He has what appears to be a white towel hanging over his forearm, and he lifts the cover off my food with flair. In a British accent he announces, “Dinner is served, sire,” as he presents the food to me and then bows.
Shaking my head at him, I burst into laughter. “I’m starving, man. Crappy or not, I’m eatin’ it.” I reach for the fork on my tray and begin tearing into the food.
“You know, you should chew your food, not just swallow it whole.”
Still shoveling the food into my mouth, I glance up at him.
“Oh, I’ve got more good news for you,” Brett chimes in.
“Really?” I answer as a pea spills out of my mouth.
“I’ll be the one removing your catheter and IV.”
“Oh, lucky me,” I grumble.
“So, whenever you’re ready for me, big boy!” Brett teases.
I’m not feeding into his craziness. “Do you think I can walk the halls later?”
“I don’t see why not. Buzz for me when you’re done eating.”
It doesn’t take long for me to finish my dinner. I ate every morsel of food and actually contemplated licking the remaining gravy from the plate. Maybe I can check out the cafeteria during my walk.
Brett reappears before I even have a chance to call. “You ready for me?” He’s grinning from ear to ear; he’s enjoying his job way too much.
“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you actually liked removing catheters.”
“Oh, believe me, I see and do much worse than this.”
“I can only imagine.”
Within minutes, Brett has removed both the catheter and IV. He’s obviously good at what he does. “You’re all set. Quick and painless,” he advises me as he takes the latex gloves off and disposes of them into the trash.
“Painless for you,” I mock him.
His shoulders rise up and down as he chuckles at my words.
“Am I all set to take a walk?” I ask anxiously. I can’t remember the last time I was confined to a bed, in a non-sexual manner that is. Before Brett can even respond, I’m already in a sitting position with my feet firmly planted on the floor.
“Yes, you can take a walk, but please take it slow; you may get light-headed from being on your feet. I have to take your blood pressure while you sit there before you stand up. If you feel like you need to rest afterward, please sit down. We don’t need you falling and hitting your head. Dr. Nelson will kill me if that happens.”
I brush off his warning, “I’ll be fine.”
As I stand, an instant head rush takes me over, so I quickly sit back onto the bed. Closing my eyes, I take in a big breath.
“See, what did I tell you?”
“It’s nothing. I just got a little dizzy.”
“I have to take your blood pressure to make sure you can walk and that you don’t need fluids. Then I’m going to get you a walker to take with you.”
“Fuck that,” I snap. “I don’t need a damn walker. I’m not eighty years old.”
“No, you’re not eighty, but if you fall you could be labeled as a fall risk. That means you can’t get out of bed without assistance. Do you want that?”
I hang my head in defeat. “No.”
“Then it’s settled. You sit back down; I’ll take your blood pressure, and then I’m getting you a walker to use.”
For Christ’s sake. I watch as Brett leaves the room. It just keeps getting better and better. First, I’m told I can’t fight and now a fuckin’ walker.
Brett comes back with a notepad, a pencil, and the walker. He takes my blood pressure as I sit impatiently. “One hundred and two over seventy-four. Good enough. Now you can stand and stay like that, and I’ll take it again. Like I said, take it slow.” Brett places the walker right in front of where I’m sitting.
Again, I get up. This time, I take it a little slower and use the walker to steady myself.
“How do you feel? You still feeling dizzy?
”
I simply shake my head and slowly shuffle toward him. He holds me by the arm, and I steady myself as he takes my pressure again. This is ridiculous.
“Okay, ninety-six over sixty-eight now. That’s great. Alright, nice and slow.”
He starts to follow me out the door. I shoot him a dirty look over my shoulder as I make my way down the hallway. He’s treating me like a goddamn kid. It feels great to be up and moving again, but my legs are stiff as hell and my headache has returned. I push myself to keep walking. I’m pretty sure I’m not going to make it to the cafeteria at the pace I’m going. I see a small waiting area up ahead and start walking toward it, thinking maybe there’s a vending machine. As I pass an open office door I hear voices talking, “I’ve already told him he shouldn’t be fighting his next fight.” It’s Dr. Nelson.
“How did he take that?” Holy shit! It’s Salem in there with Dr. Nelson. How and why is she in there? I want to barge in and find out what the hell is going on, but I stand in place listening to their conversation instead.
“Not very well.”
“I can’t imagine he would. Does he know who you are?”
“No, I don’t think so. How would he?” Dr. Nelson replies. “I did catch him saying your name as he woke from a dream.”
“And?”
“And nothing, I didn’t even mention it. Are you planning on going to see him?”
“I’m not sure.” Salem’s voice is full of uncertainty.
“He isn’t sure that you were really in his room last night. He asked one of the day nurses if there was anyone in his room.”
“What did the nurse say?”
“She told him the truth. She didn’t know because she worked the day shift.”
“Okay, good,” Salem sounds relieved.
“You and I are going to need to discuss this further. You have some serious explaining to do.”
“I know, Mom.”
Mom? Dr. Nelson is Salem’s mother? Holy shit! That was her in the picture in Salem’s room. I knew she looked familiar, but I just couldn’t place her. Is Dr. Nelson my doctor by chance? How long has Salem known I’ve been here? How did they even put two and two together? I have so many questions to ask both of them.
“I better get going,” I hear Salem say, “I have another final tomorrow.”
Going the Distance Page 7
