Fragmentation

"Good Grace's Garden"

"Good Grace's Garden"

He was in the hospital, in an area that they call “Good Grace’s Garden”. A delusional centre, a floor mainly meant for the mentally injured or psychologically impaired.

Walking through it, the majority of “Good Grace’s Garden” consisted of the elderly. Alzheimer’s was written on most of their whiteboards in the illness section. Most of their whiteboards were decorated by family members, some even nurses when the patient didn’t have a family anymore.

My husband did not have Alzheimer’s and I didn’t want him here. On the floor of “Good Grace’s Garden” there were constant questions bouncing around, “where’s my dog? Where’s Molly?” to which a nurse replied “your dog Molly died when you were nine, Ms.” Or even the simple ones, “when’s lunch?” and they were told “you just had dinner, Mr. Thompson. Lunch isn’t till tomorrow.”

My husband did not belong with these people who have forgotten everything. My husband does not belong with the delusional, the insane. My stomach was churning and I could feel my hands shake. I know it’s cruel to say, these people are human and I am acting like they’re monsters-they’re not, but they are not the same as my husband.

He doesn’t belong here.

“Mrs. McIntyre?” I felt a nurse tap my shoulder. Spinning around, I saw a nurse I know quite well; Tanya, a petite Arab woman who my husband hit on when he first got in the incident. She was sweet and professional, and it showed. From her perfect ponytail to the slight blush she put on her cheeks, she walked with persona. I respected her, especially in the polite but blunt way she told my husband that I was in the picture.

He still forgets sometimes. That I’m his wife, that we’ve been married for two years, that we are unable to have children. Usually when I walk in, he gets this wide eyed look in his eyes and says “wow, Lynn, I didn’t know it’s been so long since I’ve seen you! Look at you!”

He looks at me like I’m brand new, but not in love brand new, but like an old friend that he missed and thinks about only when the name comes up. A friend he left when we split at college.

“Come with me,” Tanya said, walking around me and directing me. I watched her butch little walk that made her ponytail swish from side to side like in those old cartoons. She grabbed a clipboard from the counter we went by and took a swift left. My lanky body didn’t have quite the grace as hers, and my attempt to pivot turned into more of a stumble on my feet as I stumbled into his room.

“Sweetheart, you’re back!” He had a big grin on his face and this surprised me-he was looking at me.

“Tom,” I smiled and walked over to the side of his bed. He shifted over towards his I.V and patted the now empty side of the bed. I sat down and grinned. He grabbed my hand and intertwined my fingers with his.

Tanya looked the both of us, a small smile on her face. “The good news is that he is getting better, psychologically, but I want to talk to you about something-”

“I’ve got it from here, Ms. I can tell her anything.” Tom gave her that grin, and it was so charming. It looked the same even for all these years, and it still sent anybody to do what he wished. You couldn’t avoid his smile, it was infectious and persuasive, which was both wonderful and a major pain in the ass.

Tanya gave him a look and glanced at me nervously. “You remember what you need to tell her?”

He grabbed a notebook on his nightstand. “It’s all in my specially issued Sacred Heart Notebook given to me by,” he flipped open the notebook and scanned the page frantically with bright eyes, his face blank for a moment. “Nurse Hailey!” Tom looked up again at Tanya and grinned. His smile was faltered and his eyes were dimming. It bothered him, not remembering. I gave his hand a squeeze. He looked at me for a moment and smiled, before returning his attention to Tanya.