“And I told you I’m not using that. It’ll take five minutes out of your shift to help me to the john. Have some goddamn compassion!”
The nurse pulled the wheelchair over, while the other grabbed him under the armpit. “It’s such a joy to have you here, Mr. Morelli.”
He grunted as they lowered him into the chair. “The pleasure’s all mine,” he said.
* * *
The following evening, Friday, was the start of the weekend staff. Although he hadn’t seen any of them yet, he knew they had arrived for the 7:00 p.m. to 11:00 a.m. shift. He would never admit it, but the regulars were making his life miserable. He hoped for a better crew this weekend. Even made a quick vow to be more tolerable.
His hip was on fire from physical therapy, and the pain was preventing him from dozing off to sleep like he normally did at this time of evening to escape the pain. He pressed the call button and was surprised when a nurse appeared a minute later.
“What do you need, Mr. Morelli?”
Gus opened his eyes. “Oh, I didn’t expect you so soon.”
“I’m Riki. I’ll be your nurse tonight. And again on Sunday. What’s up?”
“My leg hurts from therapy.”
She checked the log next to his bed. “Where’s the pain? One to ten?”
“Eight.”
“Your last morphine was six hours ago. I’ll give youanother dose. Your doctor approved it every four to six hours for the first week post-op.”
“Thank you.”
Riki returned a minute later, pushing a tray draped with white sterile paper. A syringe and vial rested on top. She peeled open the syringe and speared the needle through the top of the vial, drawing out the morphine. As she adjusted the port on his arm, he twitched lightly at the pain.
“Sorry, sweetie,” Riki said, looking at Gus’s arm. “You’re all bruised. What’ve they been doing to you? Beating you up?”
Off to such a good start, Gus felt it unnecessary to explain that his tantrum the previous morning was the cause of his purple arm.
“Nah,” he said. “I had a new gal. She did the best she could.”
Riki shook her head as she examined the port. “I’ll take care of you.”
Never great with needles, he looked up at the television screen to keep his eyes occupied. He saw a woman’s face filling the screen.
“See,” Riki said. “You didn’t feel a thing.”
A direct avenue into his blood supply, the morphine had an immediate effect. Though he stared straight at the television, Gus struggled to hear as the morphine pulled him away.
Riki drew the needle from the port and dropped it back onto the cart. She looked up at the television as she peeled off her latex gloves. “Oh, I’m excited to watch this. It’s about that girl who killed her boyfriend in St. Lucia. Remember that?”
Gus blinked his eyes. He heard the nurse’s voice, but her words didn’t fully register.
The nurse finished cleaning up, keeping her gaze on the television. When she looked back at Gus, his eyes were in a stoic haze, unblinking as he stared straight ahead.
“She was convicted years ago,” Riki said, pointing at the television. “Now she says she’s innocent. The documentary is supposed to be good. Supposed to show that maybe she didn’t do it. At least, that’s what a few of the spoiler websites are saying. Tonight’s the first episode.”
The nurse looked down at her patient. He was staring at his hand, like it belonged to someone else, opening and closing his fingers into a tight fist.
“Yep,” Riki said. “That’s the morphine. Makes you numb. How’s the pain?”
“Gone,” Gus said in a far-away voice.
“Good.”
