Wednesday, 10 June 2009

Don't Leave Me This Way

“We should think about taking you off that Morphine,” says nurse Sarah. “Would you prefer to do it now or in the morning?”

I mull it over. I have already come to terms with separation from a large part of my left breast. I have accepted being abandoned by Nick. I suppose I can take breaking up with Morphine in my stride.

“Do it now,” I say, with bravado.

Then I back pedal like mad. “But what will we do if I have pain in the night?” I wail. “Oh we can leave it to the morning if you like,” replies nurse Sarah. I feel like a malingering dope fiend. “No,” I say again, with finality, “do it now.”

Nurse Sarah scoots out of the room and then returns with a giant horse syringe. She holds it up. “This,” she says, “is Morphine.” She lays it in a little cardboard tray on my bedside cabinet. “It will be right here if you need it.”