Danny

Chapter 5

Awareness of my surroundings slowly brings me to consciousness. I am groggy but am waking up from a dream I can't remember. There is some pain on my left leg, but it does not feel like it had before. A small flash back reminds me why my mind first noticed the level of pain in my left leg.

Cold fingers touch me and wake me as a nurse comes to give me an injection. She has skin the color of dark chocolate and big dark eyes to match her warm smile. She has hair that is tied back with one single pony of many little tight braids. Her face is very angular with a pointed chin and sharp nose. Her prominent cheekbones are exaggerated by her broad smile.

There is a sensation that burns into my arm at the point where the nurse gave me the injection. I want to lash out in anguish because of the pain but I remember the pain I had experienced before this.

Some other memories begin to surface. The beautiful man with an ugly soul. His name is now clear in my mind, Patrick. Why his name is clear to me, I don't know, but that is what makes sense right now. I feel a certain connection to him. Something draws my attention to him. I feel an extreme longing for the man despite his cruel treatment of me.

"That should help you feel better," the nurse says quietly to me. I look at her startled. My mind had been so lost I had forgotten that I was not alone in the room. I smile and thank her politely. She turns on her heel and leaves me to my thoughts.

The effects of the injection kick in and I feel some relief wash over me. The feeling of absolute calm floods my thoughts. I begin to feel slightly drowsy, almost like that warm and fuzzy feeling people talk about in the movies. My body is completely relaxed and all possible pain is now relieved into a slight discomfort.

A doctor walks into the room with a broad smile on his face. It is the same chestnut warm, but tired looking doctor from before, Dr Booysens. That elated feeling intensifies at the sight of this doctor. It is comforting to see someone who witnessed what had happened to my leg. He didn't look happy to see me though.

"Danielle, I have some bad news to tell you. Your boyfriend did a nasty job on your leg. While you were knocked out by the pain we kept you asleep and took you to x ray department to check the severity of the damage he could have made on your leg and it is not pretty. He managed to displace many bones in the leg and now it requires a plate to be inserted. I am sorry that this happened to you. "

The poor man stood looking like a lost puppy while telling me this bad news. I felt bad for him while he sympathetically explained my situation to me. I can feel him ooze empathy in his hand actions, but I feel indifferent to my situation. The irony of it all is not lost on me. I am the person who has already been through hell and back and now it continues to get worse, yet I feel sorry for the doctor.

He pauses a moment so I can absorb all the information he has told me and allow me to reply. I pretend I am thinking it over, but I had already agreed to let the doctors do what is right for my healing. I am truly not scared of going to theater because I had already been there. Albeit I was unconscious at the time, but honestly if something bad was going to happen on the table it was more likely to have happened already.

"Okay, doctor. I don't have anything to lose so why not," I say as a matter of fact. He stares at me for a moment, obviously not certain how I could be so calm. "Oh and by the way, that lunatic is not my boyfriend and I would appreciate it if he was not allowed in this hospital while I am here."

"That has already been arranged. I have made arrangements to not allow him to endanger my patient again. I am so sorry that this happened to you. He said he was your boyfriend and has been in to see you at least twice since you first came in. We had no idea he was planning on causing any harm to you. Maybe he was your boyfriend. He said you remember something before he was escorted out the hospital. "

I shake my head and shrug my shoulders. I feel something bubbling beneath the surface. This man's job is on the line. He is just as concerned for himself than for me, perhaps more so. It was becoming clear to me, but at the same time it was even more messy. He was worried I was going to sue him for this. There must have been something before this for him to be so concerned. I wanted to ask him why he felt so guilty, but I was afraid of mentioning it, it may put him on his guard. He may not be so open and may even suspect I may still find reason to sue him and this hospital.

I sigh heavily and look down at my mangled leg. A sense of loss seems to knock on a door at the back of my mind. That leg will never be the same again and Patrick made sure I will not recover normally. The anger inside is trying to push through, but the effects of the injection has not only numbed the physical pain, but also emotional pain. I find it difficult to get upset over all this, but the doctor fails to see this.

"I am going to call the other doctor to help you sign your consent form to allow us to do the procedure," he says quietly before leaving the room. His eyes quickly dart over my leg before he turns. He has anxiety.

Left alone to my own thoughts again I lay awake staring at the ceiling. The initial drowsiness I had felt from the injection has passed since the doctor left my room. He had given me a lot to think about. The funny thing is that my thoughts never went the possibility of going under the knife. Instead thoughts were focused on two men, Dr Booysens and Patrick.

I carefully sit myself up into a semi sitting position and reach over to the locker next to my bed. There was a tall glass bottle and a simple glass cup. The bottle was filled with water. With nothing else to physically do I think now would be a good time to drink some water. I haven't had anything to drink since I had woken up and it just seemed right. Lifting the bottle was difficult. It somehow seemed heavier than I had expected. My arm shakes slightly as I slowly pour the water into the small glass cup. I fill it half way before giving up and heavily putting the bottle down. My arm ached.

"I hope you are not planning on drinking that," a gruff voice says. I look up at the door. There stood a rather large man with a thin mustache trying grow on his upper lip. His posture seemed to swallow the doorway, but lighting from the window opposite helped me to see him clearly. His navy clothes blended gently into his dark skin. His eyes were dark and round like his cheeks, arms, legs and gut. His hair is a dark patch cut close to his scalp and balancing on the edge of his round nose were simple design spectacles in contrast to his rather expensive looking watch on his wrist.

"Who are you?" I ask in a strangled whisper. His posture and voice were non threatening, but I feel an uncomfortable fear tickle my gut. He could overpower me even if my leg was not broken. The fresh memory of Patrick's violence makes me wary and I can do nothing to stop the paralyzing fear take over. The sight of such a big man is driving the fear inside me into overdrive.

He steps forward out of the doorframe raising his pudgy hands. He sees the fear in my eyes. I realise I am not masking my emotions very well and it bothers me. I feel exposed to everyone thinking about how even Patrick could clearly see what I had been thinking. I tell myself I need to start practicing my poker face.

"I am not here to hurt you my dear. I am Dr Singh and I am an anesthetist. My job will be to put you to sleep for the procedure. I am responsible for you while they do the procedure." he says with his gruff voice. He is smiling gently with his hands up in a position of surrender.

" How can I trust you? " I squeak.

" If I wanted to hurt you, I could have already done it. I am much bigger than you and with that leg it would be too easy to overpower you. Please don't be afraid, my dear, " he says. He seems genuine with his words and seems to be pleading with me.

I carefully examine him with my eyes and notice he has not advanced to me since he first took that one step out of the doorway. A man his size could not possibly move fast. This indicates that what he had said must be true. If he really had any intention of harming he would have made more effort. He should have come closer to me.

I take a deep breath in to try to calm my nerves. The feeling of terror has not fully left me, but with some focused breathing I sense a little relief come over me. Observing him more closely I see that I overreacted to his size. Though his voice sounds more like a grizzly bear than a human, his features were more of a man sized toasted marshmallow. He appears dark and doughy with a brown checkered shirt and black pants. No stethoscope to be seen, perhaps it doesn't hang well around that thick neck.

I shake my head and apologize, "I am sorry I overreacted. I didn't know who you were and after what had just happened, I didn't know what to expect. With no memory of who I am, I am beginning to feel that I don't know who I can trust."

"That's alright. Let's get down to business. There are a few things I need to know about you. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?" he says pleasantly.

I take a few deep breaths and then I sigh heavily. I nod in agreement and wait patiently for his questions. Once he starts his questions I feel very disheartened. Almost all the questions he asks I answer with a simple I don't know. I don't know if I am supposed to be taking medication for any chronic illnesses. I don't know if I am allergic to any medications.

He sighs and says, "Don't worry. I understand after the head injury memory may be a little fuzzy. What I can't get from you I can learn from your file when I read it. There is a lot of information from your file. They did quite a lot for you."

I nod my head with agreement not sure what I am supposed to say. What he tells me makes sense, but I am not sure if what he said is reassuring or just frightening. What procedures did they do? That same old fear starts bubbling inside my stomach.

He smiles politely before he leaves quietly through the door. With the anesthetist out the door, I thought this queasy feeling of rolling fear would go away, but it remained. My stomach is jumping up and down like it is doing star jumps. I want to cry because the feeling is rather uncomfortable. It consumes into a soup of misery boiling and bubbling.

Unexpectedly my stomach folds in on itself and the contents is ejected out. It is awful and I have no choice but to aim for the floor. I heave heavily and my stomach empties yellow bitter tasting bile. I remember that I haven't had anything to eat, which explains the bile. Obviously my stomach is not happy but failing to eat anything forces bile to leave my stomach. I wretch one last time and realise the experience is now over. I lay back gently sighing heavily.

I have no idea how long I lay there just staring up at the plain white ceiling. I am relieved that the twirling feeling has gone, but I can't help feeling helpless and pity myself. All the hope I had experienced earlier now is out of reach and snatched out of my grasp. Fresh tears well up in my eyes.

I use the blanket to quickly wipe away the tears when an old dark skinned and dark haired woman enters the room. She walks in with authority in her stride wearing maroon epaulettes on her shoulders. She squeezes into the navy blouse and pants. Her glasses sit low down on her broad nose. She is noticeably wide, but it is toned down by her height which judging by the way she walks is made higher by wearing a slight heel. She seems to be about the same height as Dr Booysens who to me seemed rather tall.

She pretends like she doesn't notice my tears and looks down on the floor. Her face almost seems to fold on itself the way she frowns at the mess. She shakes her head and walks out. I lay there and watch this whole thing happen in a matter of minutes. She obviously needed to come check something, but changed her mind when she saw the mess.

It seemed she had left to call a cleaner. A cheerful dark woman is talking to someone in another language over her shoulder as she enters. Her is tied back neatly and her caramel blouse hangs loosely over her slight frame. She hears something the other person says and laughs out loud. She walks towards my bed and greets me with a broad grin revealing yellow stained teeth. I watch as her dark hands hold the mop while she cleans the floor. I realise the back and forward motion has a certain rhythm to it and assume she must have a song in her head.

As soon as the cleaning lady finishes mopping the floor she quickly leaves. I can hear her voice talking rapidly to someone else in the ward. She sounds so jovial. I long for her presence in my room. For some reason I feel empty. The cleaning lady seemed to be full of life and joy whilst I lay pitying myself for my broken leg, chest drain and barely visible tufts of hair.

The nursing sister enters my room. She scans the floor with a scowl. Her eyes move up to my face. I feel the intensity of her glare. She quickly explains the importance of not eating and drinking for tonight because they have scheduled my operation. With all that said and done she takes the water from my bedside locker and walks away.

After a long while left on my own suddenly a large group of smartly dressed nurses enter my room including the nurse who had scowled at my mess. She tells the other nurses of the incident with Patrick to not let him in and my operation that has been booked. Just like that they all walk out and leave me alone again.

A tall fair skinned nurse with blonde hair tied neatly in a bun enters my room to fix my intravenous line she says. She introduces herself as Sister Brown. Her face is gentle but aged. While she gives my antibiotic through my line I observe her features. She has clear lines in all the usual areas of the face. Her grey eyes look sympathetically. Her voice is quiet, almost fragile for someone her height. I estimate her age as late thirties early forties. Her thin lips spread upwards into a gentle smile.

"All done. I have given you your antibiotic and something for the vomiting. Nurse Gumede will bring your morphine and then we will turn the lights off to allow the patients to sleep. If you need anything during the night don't be afraid to ask for anything, " she tells me before walking out of my room.

Within five minutes of Sister Brown leaving my room an elderly small nurse enters the room. Her voice is a little deeper for a woman, but she tells me who she is as sweetly as if she were my grandmother. She cleans the area on my arm and pinches my skin slightly. I feel a small poke of the needle and the sting that follows. She quickly places the cotton wool ball over the injection site as she takes the needle. She tells me to get some sleep and hopes to only see me in the morning. I smile and thank her for the relief of pain.

Nurse Gumede leaves my room and some time later she comes back to turn the light off in my room. Lying there in the dark I think about the events of the day. It seemed so much happened but in actual fact it was only a little incident that occurred. At the time it was all happening between waking up with that choking feeling seeing Chelsea and Patrick and him grabbing my leg all of which must have been less than at an hour. I think back and realise how things got to that point. Something about Patrick drew me in, but he seemed to be rather dangerous. These thoughts roll around in my head in the dark making me feel rather drowsy. The drowsiness consumes me and I fall into a beautiful sleep.