Blog > Stories > Fiction > Three Months In Hell – Part 4
Three Months In Hell – Part 4
Written by botox on Thursday, February 26, 2009
Things were slid about just out of view and I could feel them as they reverberated through my head. They were not really gentle at all. Then the front of my cervical collar was removed and I felt the cool air where I my skin was damp.
There was much fidgeting and wobbling about when the doctor finally announced before he left, "Its on but it is off on one side."
I could see something black out of the corner of my eyes on each side but not enough to focus on it. They looked like prison bars to me. My head hurt like hell now in addition to my back and neck. Things were certainly not getting better! I could not move my head in any direction at all. It felt like I was encased in concrete.
Not long after a man looked into my face and announced he was taking me to x-ray. All I could see was the ceiling and the occasional light. I got my first glimpse of my reflection in one of the ceiling mirrored things. I didn’t even realize it was me for a few seconds. Then it dawned on me! I was hideous!
"NO!" I yelled when I saw the ring, the bars and the full length body vest encasing me, not to mention the blood that had run down my temples.
I was definitely going to miss some work! This was to be my own personal, portable prison, complete with bars for the next 12 weeks! There were bars running from my head to the fur-lined vest encasing my whole body from my waist all the way up to my shoulders! The fellow pushing me didn’t say a word but just kept pushing me down the hall. I cried for my lost beauty and my lost freedom.
The x-ray was taken and I was wheeled back to a room. I could not see anything except the ceiling and the ever present cage out of the corner of my eyes. I could hear people coming and going but nobody spoke to me for the longest time. I cried myself to sleep and not for the last time.
Then someone came in and said, "We are going to sit you up now. The x-rays look good."
Someone on each side of me raised the bed which sat me up. I thought I was going to die from sheer agony. Even with IV morphine, every nerve in my body was firing with pain. I just wanted it to stop! Would this torturous treatment ever end?
"Just shoot me now!" I begged and moaned, "LET ME DIE!"
"Anise," said the doctor, "I know it hurts now but I’m going to give you another shot of morphine. That will help you calm down. You’ve only got to wear this for 12 weeks. Then you’ll be healed and probably have no further issues."
I screamed, "TWELVE WEEKS! I don’t see you in one! How am I going to cope with this? Take it off, take it off now!"
"That’s not possible," said the doctor that put me in this medieval punishment device, "You could be paralyzed from the neck down. You don’t want that do you?"
I began to cry loudly, "NO!"
With that he left and I never saw him again, the bastard! It was now 8:00AM the next morning and I’d been put in a halo that would stay on for twelve weeks, all without my consent or consultation! It hadn’t even been 24 hours and I wanted out of it so bad I could not stand it but all I could do was lay there and take it.
A little later a nurse came in and asked me if I wanted something to drink. I again could not shake my head so I said yes between sobs. She returned shortly with a straw. I had difficulty swallowing but managed to get some of it down. You don’t realize how much you move your head until it is impossible to do so. The slightest movement or the simplest gesture was now only a distant memory for me.
I do not remember much of the next day as the morphine made it all just a bad memory. I remember a doctor coming in and saying they would tighten my halo in the morning and I could go home as soon as someone could take me. He tested my arms and legs again and noted it on his laptop.
The person that tightened my halo was nicer than the person that put it on but still not a very compasionate person. He was as gentle as if he was changing a tire! It only took him five minutes to make my head hurt that much more by running the pointed spikes deeper into my skull.
A nurse came in before much longer and said they were taking me to a regular room. It didn’t really matter, all I could see was the ceiling. They said I’d get something to eat and more pain medication. I wasn’t very hungry at all. It was still four more hours before I was taken to a room and another hour before I was given any food. I didn’t eat it any way. The day slipped away with me fading in and out of consciousness.
Early the next morning another doctor with a nurse came in and asked if I wanted to try and get up. I did not. The doctor looked at the foot of my bed and said I needed to drink something. My drain bag for my catheter was not showing any more fluid since last night.
"I think I’m quite tired of peeing in a bag, thank you," I snipped back.
"Do you want the catheter out?" he asked, "We can arrange that."
"Yes!" I said.
"You will have to get up then to use the bathroom," the nurse said, "Do you understand?"
"I don’t care," I said, "Just get it out off of me."
It burned just a little as it came out but I wanted it out of me. The nurse said it was good I could feel it coming out as it meant there was some nerves with feeling. I was sick of this hospital and just wanted to crawl in a hole and die. The nurse returned later with some ginger ale to take with my meds and I was kind of thirsty. After that I was allowed to lay back down and rest a bit. I think I slept peacefully for quite a while.
I was awakened to the nurse fussing a bit, "We need to change your linens, Dear. These are wet."
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4 Comments
2 On 26 February, 2009, BoTox said:
To be honest, it was not a play setting and there was genuine fear and anxiety. That was reality. Some of the things to come are where the fiction comes in and not all of what follows is fiction.
Besides, the things that come next are my real motive. ;)
3 On 26 February, 2009, Sean said:
The best stories are based in reality. It’s unfortunate, however, when reality means someone had to suffer a HALO :(
I look forward to the next bit :)
The genuine fear and anxiety does indeed come through, and that’s part of why this is such an engaging story where I don’t want to miss a single word.
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1 On 26 February, 2009, Chloe said:
Reminds me of the girl in a halo brace who lived down the street when I was a kid. I wanted one too. She was in her early teens; I was around ten or eleven and too shy to talk to her, though we did smile at each other. I asked my mother what the girl had done to get one of these, but she didn’t know. That was disappointing.
It’s weird for me to read about someone wanting their catheter out. But I suppose I’m the one that’s weird for wanting one in. When I had a Foley catheter and the surgeon came to take it out, I so wanted to ask him to leave it in; like forever.
I can hardly wait for the next installment. This is gripping stuff :)