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Oh, shit.Mama Rosa can’t be signing checks when she can’t move her hand and doesn’t swallow. This is when a stutter would come in handy, to keep me from saying stuff that can get me arrested if she looks up that check. “You’re right,” I willingly lose that battle.
She nods and adds, “It’s policy to release sensitive information to family only.”
Family.Her son is dead.
She continues, “Since you’re the only one who visits, I wanted to let you know… as a courtesy.”
I nod my head. The three-word neuter chop. The polite way of cutting off a person’s balls, deflating the will to argue while still saying,‘now shut the fuck up.’
She doesn’t give a shit that I’m the only family Mama Rosa has left, but I’m tied down—and not in a good way. I don’t have any legitimate identification with me, except my passport that’s at home in a packed duffel bag, and even that I’m not sure if it expired already. So, I glance behind me again and adjust my tone. “How is she doing?”
“We don’t have any information on her.”
“What do you mean you don’t have any information on her? She’s upstairs. Get some information.”
“No, ma’am. She’s in the hospital.”
My heart collapses into my squishy intestines, and all my attempts at maintaining a calm stature dissipate. One thing Mama Rosa has taught me is how not stutter when I’m angry.
And I’m livid. She can take her “courtesy” and shove it up her ass. “Tell me, how does a hemiplegic fall?”
She checks the computer with a quick tap of her finger. “It happens, ma’am.”
“IT. HAPPENS?” I echo back like a damn parrot, not caring if she’s going to call the police. Medical neglect is a crime; I’ll throw that in her face.
The people behind me click their tongues. I’m not sure if it’s in support of what I just said or because I’m holding up the line, but too damn bad!
“No, it doesn’tjusthappen. She’s not going to willingly throw herself on the floor when she can’t move much of her body yet, or are you trying to tell me a miracle occurred here and she is suddenly back to normal?”
“No, ma’am. I don’t have any indication that she made any long leaps of improvement. But when the doctor found her, he thought it prudent to send her to the hospital.”
“Because it was bad,” my voice softens because my lungs are out of oxygen. The floor becomes my focus, the large tile with light blue veins against the white stone. The vines of dread crawling up my spine are flushed out by the blood pumping in overdrive.
I really suck at keeping people alive.
Guilt. That’s what I’m good at.
“Ma’am. If you’re finished. Other people are waiting—”
The snap of my neck, the speed, the tenseness—my whole body’s reaction to this nitwit, causes the person behind me to step back, starting the wave of retreat with the spectators.
“I’m so NOT finished. I’m only just starting... This place is a joke! Do you even know how to handle people? Client management? What bedside manner is?” I hadn’t made it through much of medical school, so I’m not sure it’s even taught here. “Because for you, that person is just a bunch of letters in theputa do ecra. Mas para mim, é como uma tia. Faz me falta!”
I hadn’t even realized I switched language until she answered me in Portuguese, with one damn word: “Acontece.”
There’s that fucking word again. “Happens.” Pinching the bridge of my nose, I try to still the vibrating nerves all over me.
“If you don’t have faith in our services, or if you’ve lost trust in us, please, tell me. I’d be happy to proceed with the check-out of your aunt and you can take her into your care. Or put her in a private hospice, where you would feel more comfortable if that’s within your means.”
Lowering my hands, I stare at the woman who for the last few months has been somewhat pleasant. She’s still mechanical. Still talking with an upbeat voice even when dishing out an insult, like none of this matters.
Because it doesn’t to her. This is just a job and I’m a nobody.
“Either you can leave and go see your friend at the hospital, if they let you in, or I can call security to escort you out.”
A or B, or C yourself out. Those are the only options available.
God, I hate this shit.There’s nothing worse than wanting to unleash the rage but having to tame it, not because it’s out of place or invalid, but because I knowmy placein this battle.
