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14
Izzy
Circles
“Are you ready for breakfast?”
I jump when a nurse strolls into my room and speaks as though we were already in conversation. I turn and study her cheerful smile. My brain is fuzzy, my eyes crusty. My eyelids feel like they weigh so much more than they should. This nurse looks vaguely familiar, but I can’t figure it out.
“No, not hungry. I want to see my baby.” My throat is scratchy and sore. “Maybe some water.”
“You lost a lot of blood last night, hon. You need to replenish. You need to eat to keep your strength up.”
I attempt to sit up, but she catches my shoulder in an instant and pushes me down. “Slow down. That’s going to hurt when you get up. And you’re probably going to be dizzy.”
“Please let me up.” I’m already dizzy. “I’m not hungry. I just want to see my baby.”
“You can’t feed your baby if you don’t feed yourself.”
I can’t shake my anxiety. I can’t even be sure she’s real. I need to see her for myself, and I’m not above begging. “Please let me go see her.”
She sighs dramatically. “Fine, we can go, but you’ll be going in a wheelchair,andyou’ll be eating snacks and juice while we roll.” She glares. “You have to eat, young lady.”
Eagerly, I nod my acceptance.
“Fine.” She points above me. “That’s your hand hold. Grab on, pull yourself up. Be careful. It’s going to hurt.”
As soon as I bring my weight up, I hiss in pain. Stinging knives shoot through my vagina and send me almost shooting off the bed.
“That’s going to hurt for a few days yet.” Helping me with pity clear in her eyes, she eases me closer to the edge of the bed. “It’ll start to feel better soon. Just move slow for now.”
She helps me to my feet. I only have to stand for half a second before she helps me into the chair, but in just that small amount of time, darkness whooshes through my brain and dots flicker over my sight.
Weak.
I’m weak, and if this place caught on fire, I literally couldn’t save myself or my baby. That’s not okay with me.
As soon as the nurse plops a tray of sandwiches in my lap, I tear the plastic open and start shoving them in.
“That’s a good girl.”
I roll my eyes at her patronizing tone, but I eat anyway. I watch on curiously as she lifts a bag from the side of my bed and clips it to the side of my chair. “What’s that?”
She smiles distractedly. “That’s your catheter.” I furrow my brow in confusion. “Your pee.”
“Oh,” then, “ooh!” It’s attached somewhere inside me, and I didn’t even know it.
“It’s definitely the better option right now, trust me. We’ll probably take it out tomorrow.” She pushes an IV pole into my hands. “You push that. You eat. I push you.” I nod. She smiles. “Alrighty. Let’s go see your baby.”
Doctors and nurses smile and wave as we pass through the halls. It’s like I’m a rockstar. Spitting a watermelon out of my vagina wins me celebrity status and egg and lettuce sandwiches.
Rock on.
“How are you feeling?” We stop at double doors until the electrical engine whirs them open. “Dizzy? In pain?”
“Both.” I chomp into another sandwich. “And tired. I could sleep sitting up.”
“We’ll take you back to bed as soon as you’re ready.”
