Friday, November 25, 2011

87. Hurt


“They’re hauling our SUV out of the woods,” said Agnes, as I woke up in a brightly lit white room. He hung over me, a quizzical look on his face. “Are you awake?” he asked.

“No,” I said.

“Well, it’s a hell of a note,” he said. “Were you taking a short cut back home through the woods?” he said, chuckling and now looking relieved.

I said nothing. My head hurt too much to even consider speaking.

“Lance has given us a van to use!” he said. “So don’t worry.”
I wasn’t worried about our transportation at the moment. I was worried I’d done permanent damage to my head or neck.

“No permanent damage, say the doctors,” Agnes offered.

“Don’t they have any good dope here?” I asked.

“Dope?” asked Agnes.

“Yeah, pain meds,” I said. “Four or five Demerol shots would be nice. The big ones.”

“I’ll ask the nurse,” said Agnes. “Is aspirin OK if they’re out of denner-all?”

“They won’t be out of it,” I said.

But they wouldn't give me any. I wondered if my lack of medical  insurance was the reason.



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