Cabin Fever(72)

 

I wait as he follows through on his plan, my hands floating up to touch my face. I close my lids, but they feel completely normal to my fingers. That’s a relief. I guess they’re not sealed shut or anything supernatural creepy like that. I take several long, deep breaths, trying to soothe my panicked brain and my thumping headache. It doesn’t work at all.

 

My door opens letting in more cold air. “I’ve got ya,” Jeremy says, lifting me out.

 

“What about Jaws?”

 

“He’ll be fine in the truck for now. He has a big blanket there to snuggle up in, and if we’re still here in an hour and they expect you to stay, I’ll board him at a nearby vet while we’re here. We passed one just down the street that has 24-hour emergency care.”

 

“Okay. Okay.” A tiny ray of relief zips through me. At least I won’t have to worry about my fur baby. I hope he’s not worried about me.

 

A woman’s voice is off to my right. “I’ve got the chair. Go ahead and put her in.”

 

Hard angles bump into my elbows. I grab the arms of the chair as soon as I realize what they are.

 

“What’s going on?” the woman asks as the chair starts wheeling forward. I’m jerked to the left and then the right as she turns corners.

 

“She called me on the phone, and we were talking, and then suddenly she screamed and said she thought something was after her. I went to help her and this is how I found her. Look at her eyes.”

 

The wheelchairs stops and I smell someone with smoker’s breath in front of me. “Hmmm. Could be detached retinas. We’ll get her in right away and have the doctor take a look.”

 

“Detached retinas?” I say. “That sounds really bad. Is it permanent?”

 

“Shhh, not a word that I said anything,” the nurse mumbles. “We’re not supposed to make diagnoses out here. Just relax. Everything’s going to be just fine.”

 

I grip the arms of the wheelchair with everything I have. The metal digs into my skin. Detached retinas? What the hell is that? Are my eyeballs going to fall out into my lap? Jeremy will be disgusted. My life will be over. I’ll never paint or see anything worth painting again.

 

The biggest pity party I’ve ever had has officially begun, and I’m the guest of honor. I can’t stop crying. My heart is breaking for the future I’ll never have.

 

I can hear Jeremy jogging next to me as the nurse starts yelling things out, I assume, to her co-workers. We’re out of the cold and the smell of sick people and antiseptic is strong. I must be in the hospital now.

 

“Babe, it’s going to be fine,” Jeremy says, his voice surprisingly calm. “I’m going to call my brother as soon as you’re in a bed and he’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”

 

I can’t listen anymore. I don’t know if it’s what the nurse said making it happen, but I’m starting to feel pressure in my eyeballs. It hurts worse than the headache. I can’t stop crying. They become sobs, loud ones.

 

“Listen, you need to relax,” another nurse says. “The more you put pressure on yourself, the worse this is going to get.”

 

“That’s easy for you to say!” I shout at this stranger. “Your eyeballs aren’t about to fall out of your head!”

 

Someone laughs, but the voice that responds is very calm. “Your eyes are not going to fall out. Just relax. We’re going to take good care of you.”

 

Thank God I have COBRA for my insurance, or I’d have to be planning my first bankruptcy hearing after this little visit. As it is, the co-pay’s going to eat up most of my savings. I don’t have to be a doctor to know that fixing sudden blindness has to have a giant price tag. I’ll never get any painting done now. I’m going to have to find a job, but who in the hell’s going to hire a blind person? No one, that’s who. I’ll have to go on disability. The tears keep coming.

 

The wheelchair stops moving. “Okay, young lady, we need you to stand up now and get in the bed that’s just to your left. I’ll help you. Don’t move too fast; we don’t want you falling.”

 

I continue to cry softly, but the sobbing goes on hold as I concentrate on following her directions, this nurse who maybe is the one who laughed at me. I’ll bet she wouldn’t be laughing if it were her eyeballs at stake. Jerk.

 

I hate everyone now. Why did this have to happen to me? I must have done something really wrong to someone to get this kind of karmic punishment. I hear Leah’s voice in my head, schooling me on the what-goes-around-comes-around lesson. She was always worried about the balance of the universe in her life. I’m starting to think she was right about that stuff. I need to make amends fast. I should probably start with the nurses who are trying to help me.