Comfort Zone

Chapter 27

She didn't really want to go to yoga the next day. The pancakes that had felt so light and fluffy going down had turned to lead. I HOP? She didn't think she could move.

But she threw on her yoga gear and pushed herself out of the house anyway. She knew how it went. Let go of your routine and give in to sleeping late instead of going to yoga, watching sitcoms instead of reading a medical journal, or visiting Domino's instead of making a salad, and before long you were completely lost. It had happened before.

Soon she was sitting cross-legged on her mat, trying to follow her breath and quiet her mind. Her thoughts jumped from catastrophe to annoyance and back again.

How will I get through office today, will Lilly Fielding die, what's that weird pain in my knee, should I listen to Lara, damn ex did I pay my alimony this month? What's that horrible e-mail gonna say when I finally have the nerve to read it? Boy my nose itches, bet I get caught and go to jail.

Monkey mind they call it, flitting from one thought and emotion to another, but today it felt more like a gorilla.

She lost her balance in tree pose, fell down in triangle pose, and went overboard in boat pose, but finally it was time for the final relaxation which had the awful name of corpse pose. Shavasana.

She had to find a way for Lilly Fielding to avoid this one for at least a few years.

Back in the hospital, Miriam texted Josh, asking him if he knew the pharmacy volunteer, and put in a call to the volunteer office.

She called the pharmacy again but the flumazenil was still not available. Still another roadblock. The antidote would reverse any Xanax effect quickly, but time would also do the trick, though much more slowly. Even more important to get the patient into a daughter-free zone.

"I smoke like a chimney, drink like a fish, and eat like a pig," Ted Grayson told her cheerfully on his first visit. With perseverance, and against the odds, the chimney was now an ember and the fish a guppy, and Miriam was prepared to repeat her lifestyle lecture, hoping for better results this time. But first, she had to look at a toe blister he complained of.

Mr. Grayson bent over with difficulty and removed his shoe and sock, wheezing from the effort.

Miriam smelled it before she saw it, and turned away on some pretext so her patient wouldn't see her gag at the stench that suddenly permeated the room. She quickly forced herself to turn back and gently examine the foot. Due to poor sensation in his feet, Mr. Grayson had let a blister rage into a pus-filled sac that nearly replaced his toe. The putrid odor was a clue to the identity of the bacteria that had done the damage.

There was one bit of luck. Miriam picked up the phone and the podiatrist next door was able to see him immediately, and would admit him to the hospital if necessary. She wondered if the toe could be saved.

What caused the ulcer? Miriam thought. The real culprit was the patient's addiction to nicotine, alcohol, sugar and fat. But fortunately, few would judge him, and he'd get the care he needed without stigma, shame or blame.

After he left, her staff sprayed the room to no avail. Before seeing the next patient in another room, Miriam heard the ping of a text message. Her hopes rose when she saw it was Josh, but quickly fell when she read his words. Although everyone in the pharmacy knew and respected Lilly Fielding, his interactions with her had been brief. Sorry he couldn't help, but he'd ask around.

Miriam had similarly bad luck with the volunteer office. No one could offer any information about Lilly's end of life wishes, her relationship with her daughter, or even about any other relatives that she could call, just that she was a smart lady, very sharp, who asked a lot of questions.