Her rest is fitful, as her mind rides a merry-go-round that it cannot escape. As she shifts into consciousness reality crashes upon her like waves upon a boulder lined beach. As her eyes flutter open physical pain joins her. Ada is perched in a chair next to her hospital bed, snoozing. As if on cue the nurse suddenly materializes in her doorway. She offers a reassuring smile as she moves towards the bedside armed with a stethoscope. The exchange between them is silent as the nurse auscultates, and palpates different portions of Hecate's anatomy. After obtaining vital signs the nurse breaks the silence.
"Please tell me on a scale of one to ten how you would rate your pain."
"I am fine," Hecate insists, lying through her teeth.
"Your vital signs say otherwise. I can still offer you some pain relief."
"I will decline," she responds as she shifts her position.
"Then we will utilize non-pharmacological remedies. I will collect the appropriate supplies, and assist you in obtaining a shower."
"I do not need assistance. I am not an invalid."
"Whether you feel the need for assistance or not, it is my duty to attend to you for health, and safety reasons. I think you will find the task more difficult than you anticipate. Physically, and emotionally it will prove to be quite taxing."
Hecate grumbles to herself as the nurse leaves the room. She elevates the head of her bed, and slowly swings her legs over the side of the bed. Her eyes roll in disgust as she studies the anti-embolism stockings that complete her ensemble. All too soon the RN returns with clean linens.
The field trip to the bathroom is much slower than anticipated. Hecate's micro-expressions betray her as she meanders across the cold tile floor in her blue non-skid footies. Once arrived at her destination she realizes how desperately she wants to shed the hospital gown that has been covered in a multitude of bodily fluid. Without a single word the nurse releases the ties, and offers Hecate freedom from the gown. The gown is removed by its inhabitant at a snail's pace. Abdominal muscles scream as Hecate bends to discard the gown into a receptacle. Her intercostal spaces grumble in dissatisfaction as the nurse ensures an adequately water temperature.
Once secured behind the safety of a shower curtain does the gravity of the situation fall upon Hecate. She applies the bar of soap to a moistened wash cloth. She stops abruptly as she reaches her chest, and finds contusions. Her eyes travel past the mauve colored contusions on her chest to a group of sutures. Long, slender fingers graze the surface of the sutures. As she slowly, and meticulously cleanses her body she can't help but feel as if her appearance is that of a science experiment gone wrong.
The showerhead applies adequate moisture to her hair. She secures the shampoo bottle, and squirts a dollop of the potion into the palm of her hand. Searing pain prevents her from completing the task at hand.
"Unfortunately I do require assistance," she announces as she sticks her head out from behind the curtain.
"It's the hair washing that gets folks, every time. It is too taxing. I am happy to oblige."
An eternity passes before Hecate is able to adequately dry her body with conventional means, and secure her gown. She requires assistance with several steps. Eventually she makes her way to the sink to scour her teeth. The basic hygiene regimen prompts her to feel as if she has just completed a marathon. Her hairbrush glares at her from the ledge of the sink. She finds a reassuring hand on the surface of her shoulder.
"The comfort of your bed may be a more appropriate location to work on securing your hair. There is a mirror in the bedside table."
Hecate offers a nod as she relents to the will of her nurse. Even as she sits up to the side of the bed she is haunted with the sinking feeling of inadequacy for the task she has been given. The nurse lingers near the edge of the bed.
"I want to remind you that you have just had a major abdominal surgery. Recovery does not happen in a matter of hours. Do what you can, and I will help you with the rest. The last thing we want is for your wound to undergo the process of dehiscence because you have pushed yourself too hard. Even after you are discharged you are going to continue to require help for a while. Your case is complicated by your fractured rib."
"The assignment before me is utterly daunting."
"Only if you go it alone," she insists as she gently slips the brush from Hecate's grasp.
As the nurse expeditiously brushes, and secures her hair into a tight braid Hecate feels herself being called away by a force of nature outside the realm of nature. The ticking clock on the wall captures her attention.
"Do you have a scheduled appointment?"
"Only as a milk maid," Hecate exhales.
"I can walk you to the SCU, if you would like."
"I utterly despise walking."
"I loathe having to watch a lengthened stay because of pulmonary embolism."
"Noted."