Page 67 of Speechless

I turn my gaze to Henry and he still looks so confused, like his mind is in a million different places. He hasn’t been paying attention, his concern for me clouding his thoughts. I can tell he’s been crying and knowing I’ve hurt him is almost as painful as my ovaries. But when my eyes move to Graham, I could swear he knows everything. The look he gives me breaks my damn heart.

The next twenty-fourhours are a blur:

Move to wheelchair, elevator down, Henry tries to follow.

New nurse, new room, get in stirrups, light pressure, watch the screen.

“Oh, dear.”

“Twisted ovary.”

“No blood flow.”

“O.R.”

Out of stirrups, back in wheelchair, Henry’s hand.

Elevator up, hospital bed. Henry being dragged away.

More doctors, more questions, more drugs.

No more pain.

“Count down for me.”

Fade to black.

-

-

Blink.

Blink.

Blink.

New nurse. “How’s the pain?”

“Henry.”

More black.

Blink.

New room, new wheelchair.

Warm hands. Henry.

Sign this, sign that, take this prescription, schedule follow-up.

Elevator down, sliding doors, cold air, black sky.

Back seat, Henry’s lap, lips on my hair.

Floating.

Bed.

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