Tears

Tears

Ping. Ping.  Her eyes closed, sitting on the edge of the examination bed, she listened as pieces of gravel hit the metal bowl.  

“Sorry, sorry,” the student nurse’s soft voice filtered into her hazy mind. “Some were stuck.  Close your eyes while I spritz some water on your face.”  She said, holding up a spray bottle.  “Let me know if it hurts.”

“She probably is rinsing the blood away to see the gravel better.”  “No problem.  Do whatever you must,” she mumbled through swollen lips.  She hardly felt anything.  Lifting her right hand to touch her face, she wondered if she had a broken nose.

“You mustn’t touch your face.  Your hands are dirty, and there’s grass embedded in them.  Here, put them in this basin of warm water.”  Ping, ping. More gravel.  “There, I have most of the larger pieces. I will rinse your face with a wet cloth. Let me know if it hurts.”

The warm water on her hands felt refreshing.  Swirling them made her winch in pain. “Have I broken a wrist, both wrists? No, maybe sprained them.”  

The girl slowly squeezed the cloth, letting the warm water gently flow down her face.  “Oh, I am so sorry.  The water is soaking your shirt.  Let me get a towel to wrap around your shoulders.” 

“It’s ok. My shirt is ruined.  The water feels nice.”  Opening one eye, she looked down at her bloody, dirty shirt.  Beside her was the bowl filled with bloody pieces of gravel.  “So, many.  All that was in my face!”

The nurse, who had admitted her, bustled in, all business-like.  “How we doing here? Looks much better.”  Gently probing her fingers over the woman’s face.  Lifting and drying the woman’s hands out of the water, “Your hands look pretty swollen.”  More probing.  “The doctor wants an x-ray done. Lay down for now, and rest.  I will come for you once the technician is free.”  She wrapped a warm blanket around the woman.

“Lie still. This will only take a few minutes,” said the X-ray Technician. 

Lying quietly on the cold table, her mind wandered as the machine was activated.  “X-rays can’t show the pain. All I need is for them to stop the bleeding.”

“All done,” said the technician.

“What happened exactly?” the nurse asked her for the up-tenth time.

Through her swollen lips, she answered, “I tripped and fell while walking on the sidewalk”.

“Incredible. Surely, she must realize we don’t believe her, thought the nurse as she gently assisted the woman off the X-ray table.  “Let’s get you back to your room.  Can you walk, or do you need the wheelchair?”  

 “They don’t believe me,” she thought as she swayed slightly. “I feel dizzy.”

“Wheelchair it is, then.”

She moaned as the nurse helped her back onto the bed.  Peering through her eyes was almost impossible. “That curb sure did a real number on my face.”  Remembering the sound when she hit the curb.

Before lying down, she glanced around, causing her head to swirl.  A kaleidoscope of colours flashed across her eyes.  “How much longer before I see the doctor?  Can I possibly have something for the pain?  I am getting a horrible headache.”

Sounding concerned, the nurse replied. “Sorry, love, no medication or painkillers. The doctor must examine you first.  I am sure he will be here soon.  Lying quietly will help.  It’s going to be a long time before all this swelling and bruising disappears.”  

She lay there, detached from her surroundings. The bed felt hard and unyielding to her body.  Shifting her hips, hoping for a less painful position, she heard the crunching noise of plastic lining under the sheet. “Oh, my god, the plastic is so my blood doesn’t stain the bed,” she realized.  

“If you are ok with it.  I am going to apply some antiseptic to the scratches on your face.  They are still bleeding a bit.  There is always a possibility of infection. Sorry, it will sting.”

“I can’t feel anything anyway, so go ahead,” she sighed.  Looking down at her bloody jeans and shirt, thinking, “So much blood. I wonder if I can wash them clean, or should I just throw them out?  I want to go home, crawl into my bed, bury myself under my quilt, and sleep.”  

Finally, the doctor arrived.  Looking sympathetically at her, he gently probed various areas of her face, neck and shoulders.  His voice was soft and soothing.  “I have reviewed your x-rays.  The good news is nothing appears to be broken.”  Producing a sterile needle and suture, he explained, “I am going to stitch the cut above your left eye.  This is where most of the blood is coming from.  You are concussed.  This can cause nausea, dizziness, blurred vision, and even confusion for a few weeks.  You will need lots of rest.  The nurse will give you an information sheet on concussions.  Over time, the swelling will disappear.  After a month, it will be as if you never fell,” he stated with a smile on his face.  “I would suggest you get a checkup with your regular doctor next week.”

She could hear the thread as it went in and out of the cut.  A thought went through her head.  “I wonder if they froze it first or if my face is too numb to feel anything.”

He patted her hand as if she were a child and handed her a prescription, saying, “If you can stand up without being too dizzy, you are free to leave.” And, he was gone.  

Gently, the nurse helped her up.

Taking a couple of deep breaths, she stepped out of the room, down the hallway, and through the sliding door, not bothering to look back.

Finally, out in the crisp night air, she spotted the car parked under a street light at the far end of the parkade. She could see his outline in the driver’s seat, slouched over and looking at his phone. For a while, she watched the blue light of the screen as he scrolled up and down.  Looking up at the night sky, she let the rain fall onto her face, its coolness felt refreshing. Finally, she could cry. Her salty tears blended with the rain as they trickled down her cheeks and onto the ground, and this, too, felt good. She had read somewhere that salt acted as a healing agent for wounds. Maybe it works on the outside but not on the inside. When she arrived, just after twelve, the sun had been shining. How long had she been in here? Pulling out her phone, she glanced at the time. Almost eight hours. Has he been here all this time?

Uncertain, she could walk to the car.  She plunked down on the cool, wet bench.  Looking down at her blood-stained jeans, she wondered if the rain would wash the blood away.  Probably not.  Glancing about, she noticed moonlight reflecting on the puddles.  Looking up, she realized the rain had stopped, as had her tears.  Seeing a full moon in the sky, she mused, “It looks so serene and peaceful.” Painfully, she stood up.  

Seeing her, he jumped out of the car.  “Stay there; I will come and get you,” he hollered.   The car roared as he backed out, pulling up beside her.  Coming around, he opened the passenger door.  “Can you get in, ok?  What can I do?”

“Please don’t touch me.  I hurt everywhere,” she replied, painfully crawling into the car.  “Have you been here all this time?”

“No.  They wouldn’t let me wait inside due to COVID.  They took my number and told me to go home.  I’ve been sick with worry.  I got their call 10 minutes ago to come.  I wish I could hug you.  You are never going to walk alone again.  I still don’t understand how you fell.”  

I knew he was chattering nonstop because he was stressed with worry.  “Tomorrow, I will explain how I tripped and fell.  Right now, I just want to go to bed and sleep.” 

“Home it is.  I turned on the electric blanket so your bed is warm and cozy.”