The Patient

She calls me Mr. Rafferty because that is my name. She wears white scrubs and has her hair pulled up in a high ponytail, tied with a pink ribbon. I like her, she has a nice smile and warm hands. She pats me on the shoulder and says, "Good morning, Mr. Rafferty."

She tells me her name is Glenda and asks me how I slept.

"I don't remember," I tell her.

She smiles, "It must have been good then."

I laugh.

She is very pretty and I don't try to hide that I think so, I tell her that my pitcher is empty. She refills it from the sink in the corner and puts it on the table by my bed. I grin at her when she pulls back the blanket to check the bed pad. I'm not wearing any pants.

She glowers at me and tells me that someone will be bringing my meds soon and fluffs my pillow.

I watch her leave, "Glenda," I call.

"Yes, Mr. Rafferty."

"Do you work tomorrow?"

"Yes, Mr. Rafferty," she says with a smile.

I nod, good, she'll be back tomorrow.

My room is small with white walls and a white tile floor with blue and gray smudges across it. There's a small window that is set too high in the wall to be of much use, but white light pours through it and I can see a sliver of gray sky outside.

I lean back and wait for the doctor, I'm sure he will be along soon.

A woman comes to the door, she reads the name on the door and checks my chart before she hands me a cup of pills and a cup of water.

"Drink this."

A girl of about twenty brings me my breakfast on a tray, she reads my name off the card in a low monotone with very little interest or care. She smacks on the pink bubble gum in her mouth as she reads.

"Mr. Rafferty -- scrambled eggs, wheat toast, grapefruit, two percent milk and a sausage patty. No salt."

She places the tray on my table and rolls it closer to me.

"You want me to take the lid off or just leave it for you?" She says between smacking her lips.

"Leave it," I say looking out the window, I don't know her name and I don't want to. I wait till she leaves before I eat my breakfast.

I don't like the arts and crafts. The lady wants us to make something with a piece of paper, "It can be anything," she says. It's dumb, it will still be a piece of paper. I fold my paper in half and half again and tell her I made a smaller piece of paper. She smiles and tells me that it's very nice. I let her think I'm stupid. I don't want to do this activity.

I sit quietly while they take the others back to their rooms. I am last. I want to be, there are windows here and I can see the birds even though it is raining and the grass is so verdant and green.

A man named Ed, takes me back to my room. He is quiet. He tells me his name as he flips the wheel lock and begins to push my chair slowly down the hall. He stops for a few minutes to let me watch the fish by the nurses station and chat quietly with a nurse. I think my room is close.

He helps me into bed and checks to make sure I'm comfortable.

I say I'm tired and they let me stay in my room for lunch. The same girl brings my lunch, I look away as soon as I see her at the door.

"Mr. Rafferty -- Spaghetti and meat balls, steamed spinach, Jello and Diet Coke. No Salt." Her voice is a vague buzz in the back of my head.

"Leave it," I mutter before she has a chance to ask.

I watch TV and eat my lunch, a tropical storm is blowing in and the regular broadcast is interrupted, everybody is worried. I eat everything but the spinach.

I leave the TV on, but I don't really watch it. Instead, I listen to the voices in the hall and count the tiles on the ceiling. There are 48 tiles. The one in the far corner has a brown water spot. I try to decide what shape it is. Maybe a flower or an amoeba.

After a while, when I'm really bored, I stare out the window and watch for birds or bugs or anything that might go by. Nothing does.

Finally, it's time for dinner. I turn my head to the window when I hear the cart coming and wait for the drool voice that follows.

"Good evening, Mr. Rafferty," calls a cherry voice. She has dark dreadlocks pulled back in a thick ponytail and big brown eyes that smile when she talks. "How are you this evening?"

I smile back and nod too surprised to respond.

"Well tonight for dinner," she says, drawing her words out slowly as she glances at my chart, "you have -- Baked chicken, rice and broccoli also for dessert you have chocolate pudding. What would you like to drink with your meal? I have Apple juice, milk or Diet Soda."

"No salt?"

"That's right, Mr. Rafferty, I'm sorry, but no salt."

I nod, "I thought so. I'll have the juice."

"Do you want me to take the lid off for you?"

"That would be nice, miss?"

"I'm Barbara," she said, with a smile. "I'm new."

"Me too."

She smiled.

Barbara, I like her already.

After dinner the news comes on and after the news Jeopardy and Wheel Of Fortune. The final rounds and then lights out. They don't bother me because I'm already in bed and I don't bother them because I'm already tired. I drift.

The sun is bright through my window and I'm awakened by a cherry voice. She calls me Mr. Rafferty, because that is my name.