She couldn’t pray.
Lex huddled in the middle of her bed and stared at the clock. She should try to get some sleep for surgery tomorrow. It would also keep her from thinking about the bottled water in her fridge that she’d like to chug in defiance of the “no water after midnight” rule the surgery nurse had given her.
Even after a week in her apartment, Lex still kept her ears strained for rodent-like sounds. The mouse hadn’t made a repeat appearance, but she still surrounded her bed with traps.
The blessedly silent studio seemed like a cage with walls too thick to let her prayers through. Would God even hear her if she did pray?
I’m pretty mad at You, You know. Yeah, You probably already know.
Maybe she should read her Bible. Except . . . it still lay packed somewhere in her boxes. Besides, she had no idea where to read. Knowing her luck, she’d open it up to a list of genealogy. Or worse, some bloody, violent war.
She felt abandoned, just like when Mom had died. The chemo that made her sick, and then the futility of it all. Dying at home, with Lex’s hand holding hers. Mom had even dressed up for the occasion.
Lex shivered. It probably wasn’t the wisest thing to think about Mom and dying the night before knee surgery.
She needed to be strong. She should think about what she did have. She had Venus taking care of her after surgery. She had a ground-floor apartment, found last-minute, and the mouse hadn’t returned. She had a terrific surgeon — the doctor for the Oakland Raiders, no less.
So go to sleep and let him do his thing tomorrow.
Lex lay down. Listened to the quiet apartment.
Couldn’t sleep. Obsessed about water.
“You’re not going to need anesthesia.” Venus nudged her again. “You’ll fall dead asleep on the table.”
“Can you not use the word ‘dead’?”
Lex shifted in the uncomfortable chair in the surgery center’s waiting room. Actually, it wasn’t that uncomfortable, she just didn’t like sitting in it. Especially when she wanted to drink a lake and eat a horse.
The door at the other end of the room opened, and a nurse clad in colorful cartoon scrubs smiled at her. “Lex Sakai?”
She trudged through the door into the main area of the surgery center. The nurse directed her to a bathroom, where she set a gown, socks with rubber treads, a bonnet, a bag for her clothes, and a urine cup on a chair.
Lex picked up the cup. “I haven’t drunk any water since yesterday.” She sounded kind of whiny.
The nurse had a venti-size order of patience. “That’s okay if you can’t go, but please try. Now change into everything, but you can keep your underwear on.” She closed the door behind her.
At least this bathroom had a chair. Lex unstrapped her leg brace and undressed, shivering in the chilled tile room. The bootie socks were warm, but the gown gaped in front (at least it didn’t gape in back). She also managed a trickle into the cup and left it on a shelf with a huge sign “Urine cups.”
Oh man, she was thirsty. She wanted a tall glass of ice water, chilled beads of condensation dripping down the sides, pooling at the base.
She whimpered.
Lex exited the bathroom, and the nurse who’d been leaning against the wall waiting for her, gave her a pat on the back. Lex twitched away, even though the nurse had meant her touch to be reassuring.
She led Lex to a small room with two recliners separated by a curtain, each in front of a TV set. Venus stood inside, talking to a dark-skinned Asian man who seemed to be demonstrating a strange contraption. He saw her and introduced himself as Alan.
“This is your CPM machine — Continuous Passive Motion machine. After surgery, you’ll put this on your bed and strap your leg into the cradle — ” he pointed to a metal cradle lined with soft faux lambskin — “and turn the machine on. It will bend and straighten your leg very slowly, and for only a few degrees at first. You’ll increase the degree during the next two weeks.”
“Alan told me how to set it up when I get you home.” Venus was far from flirty or chummy with Alan, but it had been years since Lex had seen her so relaxed around a male. He must be one of the few who had the courtesy not to ogle her gorgeous face and lust-inspiring figure.
The nurse sat her in the recliner and then covered her with warmed blankets. Warmed. A perfect temperature. The gown didn’t seem so skimpy anymore.
“Take this marker and write ‘yes’ on your surgery leg and ‘no’ on your good leg.”
Okay, now that was just scary. “You mean sometimes they open up the wrong leg?” Her voice had a screech at the end.
The nurse winced at the sound. “No, don’t panic. They don’t open you up. This will be arthroscopic, so he’ll only cut three small holes into your knee.”
“He can repair it with only three small holes?” Her voice still had that screechy thing going on.
“Oh, yes, it’s the best kind of surgery. Don’t worry.” She set a hand on Lex’s shoulder. Lex jumped.
Another nurse joined her. They started an IV on her and scrubbed down her bad leg with some neon orange soap that looked like it zapped every last germ.
The nurses left, and Venus sat in a chair next to her.
Suddenly, the magnitude of what Lex was about to go through smacked her across the head with the force of a two-by-four plank.
She’d be unconscious. And she might not wake up.
Her stomach started to ripple. Her hands trembled where they lay against the warm blankets. She licked her dry lips, swallowed against the ball of fuzz lodged in the base of her throat.
She had to go to the bathroom. The warm blankets added to her incontinence problem.
“Venus, flag down a nurse.”
“Why?” Venus tore her eyes from the TV.
“I need to know if it’s okay to go to the bathroom.”
“Sure,” the nurse chirped once Venus had explained everything.
“Just take your IV bag. There’s a hook next to the toilet.”
Venus had to carry the bag while Lex grabbed her crutches and hopped to the bathroom. Once she sat down, the IV line also got in her way.
Back in her recliner, she felt a little better, although her stomach still jiggled.
A nurse peeked in on the older woman sitting in the other recliner.
“You’ll be going into surgery in a few minutes, Mrs. Tyler.”
Lex couldn’t see her around the curtain, but she heard Mrs. Tyler’s quavering voice speaking to her husband. “Charles, look at me.”
“Mm-hm.”
“Turn off that TV. Look at me. This might be the last time I talk to you.”
“Now, don’t be scared, honey — ”
“Don’t be scared? How can you say that to me now?”
“It’s a simple procedure — ”
“I might never wake up.”
Lex’s chest squeezed tight.
“Charles, promise me you’ll give me a nice funeral.”
“Honey — ”
“And don’t invite your cousin. I can’t stand her. And promise me you’ll marry again. You need someone to take care of you.” Her voice ended on a sob.
“Honey, you’ll be fine.”
“I’ll miss you so much, Charles.” Sniff, sniff.
“I’ll miss you too — I mean, what are you talking about? You’ll be okay.”
“And don’t forget to water the gardenia plant.”
The nurse bustled in. “Mrs. Tyler, they’re ready for you.”
“Oh! Good-bye, Charles. Don’t ever forget me.”
A nurse wheeled the weeping woman out the door. As she passed Lex, she clutched her bad shoulder — marked with a “yes” — and her distraught husband trailed behind.
Lex and Venus stared at each other with wide eyes after she had left. Venus bit her lip. “You, um . . . want me to pray for you?”
“Yeah . . . yeah, I guess.”
“Dear God . . . Thanks for Lex. Thanks for her really skilled surgeon. And really good nurses. And really excellent surgery center. Please help her feel calm. And, uh . . . help her wake up afterward. Amen.”
“Gee, Venus, you pray so eloquently.”
“Hey, it’s a prayer.”
“True.”
A new patient strolled into the room, this time a college-aged, athletic redhead. “Hi.” She smiled at Lex and Venus.
Lex searched her joints for any swelling. “Are you sure you need surgery?” she asked the girl.
“Oh, sure.” She sat in the recliner and automatically held out her arm for the IV. She peeked at Lex around the curtain. “I re-tore my ACL a month ago, so the swelling’s gone down.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, this is my third ACL surgery.”
“Third? ”
“Uh huh. I keep snapping them like rubber bands. But Daddy’s an ex-football player, and he has great insurance. He coaches a college team now, but he’s loaded.”
Lex suddenly had visions of years of surgeries draining her pocketbook. “Venus, I need to go to the bathroom again.”
“What’s your problem?” Venus grabbed the IV bag.
“I have to go when I get scared.”
“Oh, great.”
Lex relieved herself — wow, she had a lot this time — and sat back down just in time for her anesthesiologist to arrive.
Dr. Frank looked like he’d sucked a lemon. He adjusted his glasses and glared at her over the rims. “Any allergies?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Any family history of heart disease, yadda, yadda, yadda?”
Did he just say, “Yadda, yadda, yadda”?
“Uh . . . no.”
He sighed and pursed his lips. “How’d you tear it?”
“Accident.”
He grunted. “Well, obviously. How?”
“Someone fell into me.”
“Hmph.” He scribbled in his chart. “Okay, that’s it. Oh, and I have to disclose that there’s a slight chance of complications, nothing is 100 percent guaranteed, yadda, yadda, yadda. Understand?”
He liked that “yadda” word. “I guess.”
“No questions?”
“Uh . . .”
“No.” Venus pinned him with a hard gaze. “Just make sure she wakes up again.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He left.
Lex’s legs quivered. Her mouth had become Death Valley. “Venus, I need to go again.”
Venus rolled her eyes but reached for the IV bag. She paused as she studied it. “Hey.”
“What?”
“It’s almost empty. It’s dripping awfully fast.”
Lex studied the drip-drip-drip. “Yeah, I guess so.”
Venus flagged down a nurse and pointed it out.
“Oh! Sorry about that. We forgot to slow it down after we got the antibiotics in you.” She changed the bag and slowed the drip.
“I didn’t flush all the antibiotics out of me, did I?”
“No, don’t worry, dear.” The nurse bustled away.
After another trip to the bathroom, Lex sat with Venus, not saying anything, just watching a rerun of Oprah on TV. Finally, the nurse peeked in. “We’re almost ready for you. A few minutes.”
Lex’s fingers fidgeted on her lap until Venus slapped her hand down on them. “Stop that. You’re driving me nuts.”
“You’re nuts? Think about me.”
“You are so egocentric, you know that?”
“I’m about to go into surgery. I think I’m entitled.”
“You’re going to wake up, perfectly fine and as crabby as ever. So stop making my day worse than it already is.”
“Okay, Lex, they’re ready for you now.” The nurse walked over to Lex with a wheelchair.
Lex stood and moved into the chair, surprised her legs didn’t collapse under her. She grabbed Venus’s arm. “Take my mom’s diamond earrings. I want you to have them.”
“Oh, stop.”
“And that picture frame we fought over as kids? It’s in my closet.
You should have gotten it.”
“Will you shut up?”
“But make sure I get cremated with my ratty bunny. He’s on my bed.”
Venus shoved her face in close. “I’m going to deck you so you don’t need anesthesia.”
Lex swallowed. “I need to go again.”
Lex opened her eyes. Hey, she was in a different room. She could have sworn she’d been wide awake when she counted down to eight in the surgery room. Now she felt fuzzy and she couldn’t move her leg.
Oh, no! She was paralyzed!
She would panic after she threw up.
“How are you?” A smiling nurse who was way too cheerful nudged her bed and did something with her IV. She started raising Lex into a sitting position.
“I’m going to puke.” Her mouth had weeds growing in it.
“Not quite yet.” The nurse tugged at her IV and injected something.
Another ten minutes, and Lex realized her mouth had suddenly dried up. She tried to speak but couldn’t move her tongue. “Wa . . .wa . . .”
“Juice?” The nurse shoved a straw into her mouth.
“Nnn . . .”
“Drink up.”
Lex shook her head. The room spun.
“Rise and shine.” The nurse bounded over with Lex’s crutches. Where’s the fire, lady? Lex’s leg started to ache with fierce, bone-deep pain.
“Let’s get you to a chair.”
“Wha — ?” She could barely sit up.
“The anesthesia is still in your system. Move around and it’ll clear. Otherwise, you could sleep here all day.” She giggled. “And we’re not a hotel.”
Lex stumbled with her crutches as the room tilted around her. She could feel the fiery energy of the nurse as she practically carried her the few feet to a recliner, her IV bag trailing on a wheeled stand. A weird Igloo cooler was attached to her leg by a thick tube, making her leg freezing cold. The nurse carried that with Lex to the recliner.
She collapsed on the chair and just wanted to sleep some more.
“You’re almost ready to go home.”
Home? She couldn’t even form coherent sentences yet. Where was Venus? Who was this Pollyanna-on-steroids nurse? How could she even walk to the car with her leg bigger than a slab of mutton and frozen solid?
“Hey, Lex.” Venus appeared.
Little Miss Sunshine hovered over her shoulder, driving a wheelchair like a race car. She unhooked the tube attached to the Igloo cooler. “Time to go.”
Lex eased herself into the wheelchair. She’d barely sat down before Miss Earnhardt took off, zooming down the hallway, out a side door. She skidded the chair down a ramp and nicked the curb as she turned toward Venus’s car.
It wasn’t a hard knock, but Lex’s bones jarred like she’d been sideswiped. “Ow!” She grabbed her knee but only felt thick layers of bandages.
The NASCAR nurse screeched to a halt beside Venus’s car. Lex paused to breathe.
“Come on. If you move, the fuzzies will go bye-bye.” The nurse jiggled the wheelchair.
Was this woman for real? Lex shot to her feet and swayed as the darkening sky rotated around her like a carousel. She grabbed at the passenger door.
It took some painful hopping to turn herself around and sit in the seat. It took even more angling to get her straightened leg into Venus’s little car.
“Slide the seat back.”
“It’s already back all the way.”
Her leg hung over the edge of the bucket seat, but her heel didn’t quite touch the floor, making her knee throb. The nurse wheeled away.
Lex didn’t remember much about the long drive home from the surgery center, except for the pain that flashed through her leg every time the little sports car hit a bump in the road.
“Can’t you drive any smoother?”
“Pardon me, Your Highness.”
Venus finally eased into the carport at her apartment. Lex couldn’t open the door all the way because of the car next to her. As she angled herself out, she banged her foot against the door. “Oooh.”
Venus appeared with her crutches. Lex moved backward out of the carport, but then she discovered her mistake.
The ground sloped down from the carport, and Lex hadn’t braced herself for the change in grade. She started tipping backward.
“Venus!”
Splat. Lex landed hard on her backside. The impact sent a jolt through her leg. “Oh, my knee, my knee.”
Venus knelt at her side. “At least you landed on your butt. Lots of padding.”
“Speak for yourself, bubblebutt. My tailbone is throbbing.”
“Your Insult-o-meter spikes when you’re in pain, doesn’t it?”
“Wouldn’t yours?”
Venus hooked her arm around her waist. “Okay, one, two, three-eee. Oomph.”
Lex’s butt barely cleared the ground before it bounced right back down. “Yow!”
“Sorry.” Venus studied her. “I don’t know if I’m strong enough to raise you up.”
“Hand me my crutches.”
Even with Venus’s arm around her, even with the upper body weight training Lex had been doing for Wassamattayu tryouts, she heaved and strained to get upright again.
It was going to be a long night.