A FRAGILE MIND

‘I’m ready. Let’s go! The Wimbledon Match is on hold.!’ She was ready but I no longer was. Not wanting to disturb her enthusiasm, I had remained silent in her house office playing puter Solitaire for well over an hour. Gradually without quite overflowing, tears filled my eyes. Child-like I felt neglected. My daughter and I, during my visit, had little time to spend together. She was an addicted workaholic and left me alone 10 hours a day. Fool that I was, and remain, it has been my choice to stay at her home, straightening drawers, talking to the shepherd pup, wiping up his messes, working on her lawn, watching t.v., taking short naps. Mornings dragged to evenings.

Dorothy’s shouts, ‘Hit it! Wow!’ from the living room, enlarged the growing selfish hole that was boring into my heart. Stupid, stupid despair, unsubstantiated neglect grew into Mt. Everest. ‘Ma, let’s go!’ she called again. My id shouted to me, ‘Get off your butt. Don’t spoil the day. Take what you can, give your all. Be what she expected.’

As I hurried past the bathroom door, something pulled me in. On the dressing table was my small vial of seldom used pills, brought along just in case. Pick me up. Swallow me, you’ll calm down and down went a Valium. ‘Give me a second. I’m coming.’ My middle aged, loving, precious daughter was waiting in her new Jag. I kept my face turned away from her hoping my red eyes would be barely noticeable. Did we speak? I don’t remember. When I turned to be sure no cars were coming and it was safe for her to pull out of the driveway, Dorothy looked strange to me, fuzzy. I turned to my right and there she was again. There were two Dorothys. ‘What’s going on?’ I mumbled. Did she hear me? If she did I heard no answer. The second image changed into Eddie, my son-in-law. He was none too clear but there he was. ‘What is this?’ No answer.

‘Where are you taking me? What am I doing here?’ I asked. Silence. ‘Why am I on this table??’ I was being rolled someplace. Where? A woman standing next to me told somebody to take off my necklace, put my hearing aids in her pocket. Was I being robbed? My daughter materialized, was holding my hand. ‘Ma, Ma, I’m here. Don’t be afraid. ‘‘Where is here?’ ‘You are in the hospital emergency area.’ A lady I didn’t know came from nowhere and began to talk to my daughter and me.. She showed me a button that I should wear all the time in case I need help. ‘In case what happens to me?’ I asked. In my mind I told her to go screw herself but out loud I said, ‘I don’t want any button. It won’t help me.’ Dorothy tod the lady she was going to buy it for me and I told her to mind her own business.

My mind began to clear a little. ‘What am I doing here? I want to go home.’ I tried to sit up was gently pushed backwards. ‘Stay still,’ the button selling lady told me. ‘You have a needle in your arm.’ I looked and damned if I didn’t, a big one! On my right index finger was a white clamp with a wire going someplace. Every once in a while, it felt like my arm was being pumped up and then slowly let its breath out again.

‘Dorothy, don’t just stand there. Find somebody. I want to get out of here. Look, there are lots of workers here with name tags. Get somebody over here for me.’ ‘Ma, the doctor will be here soon.’ Soon took long but eventually came. The doctor told me I was going to have a CAT scan. I’m next. ‘It is possible you had a stroke. We want you to stay here, at least overnight.’ ‘No way, no way!’ I stubbornly responded. He ordered me to stay or I will have to sign a release form so the hospital wouldn’t be sued if I died.’ ‘Get it!’ and I sign. Somewhere, somehow, I had the scan, I was told but don’t remember.

Four or five young foreign looking men wearing official badges sat along the wall, opposite my bed, joking, evidently with no patients to tend. A distant voice asked me to slide down to the end of my bed and get up. I couldn’t. I had to pee. I tried and tried to stand but started wetting my slax. I was not so out of this world that I wasn’t embarrassed. ‘I can’t get up! I can’t. I have to go to the bathroom. One of the men jumped up and told me he would take care of me. He brought a wheel chair and rode me across the hall where Niagara Falls rushed from me. My clothes were soaked. The floor was a river. ‘Dorothy, put a plug in me. Where is this coming from? Has somebody put a hose down my throat?’ She and I foolishly got paper towels and tried to sop up the floor. The wheel chair rolled back in. Dorothy put my jacket around my waist. It reached almost to my knees but did not hide the wetness that was me. I looked at noone as I got back on my sliding bed. Surely the young men were laughing at the old lady who peed in her clothes. I hated them.

‘Dorothy, get somebody to find the dr. I want to leave.’ Finally she found Dr. Feldman. He told me my Cat scan was normal. It might have been the Valium. ‘That’s dangerous stuff for people your age. Never take it again. You should not leave until we are sure you will be alright.’‘Goodbye, Dr.’ He handed me a complete review of every test made on me and I could not believe I had so much attention. It couldn’t really have happened.

My son-in-law, Eddie, had been in the waiting room for three hours. Finally he came for me, helped me into Dorothy’s car and drove me to their house. I was as good as new, I thought. My mind wasn’t right. Did I have lunch, dinner? Maybe I wasn’t good as new. Dorothy washed my clothes, gave my necklace and both hearing aids back to me. I put what was to go on, on and what was to go in, in. Bed time came. Get up time–midnite, came. The t.v. was playing but I couldn’t hear it. I raised the volume. I checked my left aid and it was working well. The right ear was empty. A vigorous search began- absolutely in silence. I stripped my bed, pulled back the scatter rug, looked thru my purse, bureau drawers, the sofa cushions. My hearing aid was lost. It could have fallen anywhere. With flashlights, Dorothy and I searched the car. The hearing aid and I are lost. I will have to order another one. That may take weeks. Morning came slowly. The grass was wet. We searched the car again, found a few crushed potato chips, a broken dog biscuit, no hearing aid. Every place searched once was searched again and again. Using a large, soft broom I had swept under the dining room server, my bed, the sofa, better than the service people did. There was nothing more to do. Eddie asked me if I was absolutely positive I checked everywhere. ‘Yes.’ ‘Then you are positive the hearing aid is not in this house? ‘Yes.’

Eddie walked out of the kitchen, into my room. Again he shook the sheets, pillow cases, found nothing. For some reason he didn’t know, he got down on his knees. I repeated that I had swept under my bed. He paid no attention and ran his hand under the skirt of the sofa bed. He stood up and told me I had been right. The hearing aid was gone. It was not in the house. Sheepishly he put his hand out towards me and said, ‘Well, what is this?’ I could not answer. It was my hearing aid! Neither of us smiled. We were both too astounded. I took it, put it in my right ear and it still worked.

There were no more words. The previous 24 hours were a bad dream. 24 more have passed and I still cannot believe my own story.

There is only one thing of which I am sure. I took the whole Valium and will never take another.