Welcome back, sorry I'm running behind. Back to school has thrown my schedule askew. Popping back into the Italian hospital room . . .
Several more people had wandered in and one even left the door propped with his foot.
I glanced at Charlie, nervous, feeling Italian eyes burning through my skin. This was more embarrassing than when I had
to give a urine sample at the post clinic and, while trying to manage my
four-year-old and two-year-old, wound up spilling the entire cup of pee in my pants.
“Ask if I get a sheet,” I begged.Several more people had wandered in and one even left the door propped with his foot.
The nurse produced a piece of a sheet,
wide as a wash cloth and long as about five of them. I wiggled out of my
clothes as he tried to shield me with the sad excuse for a sheet. “I had no
idea it would be like this.” Over the sheet, I watched as the nurse unfurled
two giant metal stirrups from the end of the exam table; ones that resembled massive
candy canes and, if I was looking at them right, my feet didn’t rest in them,
but my legs went up and over them. A
fleeting vision of King Henry VIII’s torture chamber popped into my mind. A
deep cramp bent me over the table.
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Thanks for popping by. To get back to the other Weekend Writing Warriors, click here!
Terrible situation to be in, the anxiety of it all would surely make the physical problems worse too. Vivid excerpt! I so feel for her....(you, right? Memoir?)
ReplyDeleteThanks Veronica. Yes, very much me.
DeleteOh, I'm so glad I experienced my pregnancies and births in the USA. Oy! Bless your heart. :-)
ReplyDeleteYou survived to tell your story, Sara and what a tale it is. You're a wonder.
ReplyDeleteI had my son in a military hospital, back in the 70's. Reminds me of that, but even worse! Ugh!
ReplyDelete