Stephen Dixon - 14 Stories

Next door’s a man dying from too many cigarettes. On the other side of me to the left’s a lady who doesn’t know she’s having half her insides taken out tomorrow at eight. Across the hall’s a boy who’s spent the past year in a coma and every other hour on the hour only cries mummy mum mum. Next to him on one or the other sides’ a man who tries suicide and I overheard his wife say in the hallway still has to lose his leg. In the next room to his is a woman who no specialist knows what’s the matter with other than for her losing weight at an unbelievable speed. Can’t eat. Next she can’t even speak. Down to seventy pounds for a hefty frame and they don’t think she’ll last the week. Positively no visitors allowed it says on her door. I feel so ridiculous being on this floor. With only a couple of benign polyps to be removed and a little fright, though I might catch something worse from being around all these sorrowful people and horrible news. Is it at all possible to get my room switched to a less sickly floor?

Hello, dad. I’m glad you’re feeling better. Listen, don’t try and speak. Even if you can. They say you can hear. Can you hear? You can let me know by smiling a lot at what I say. Not that anything I’ll say is funny, but I love seeing your smile. My favorite father. You’re looking real well. I would’ve been here sooner but the weather in our country’s been so bad the planes couldn’t go. When they did and the kids and I got here, your airport was on strike so we had to land three hundred miles out of the way and bus in here slowly overnight because it snowed. Then I heard what happened to you. But let’s forget about going into that. My husband Lanny sends his best and says he wishes he could’ve also flown here, and the kids heir love. They’re right downstairs, and after all this traveling by trains, planes, buses, cabs and subways and now only an elevator ride away, it’s frustrating for them not to be let up, and unfair. The youngest I wanted to sneak in here under my coat, as he’s never seen you, but if they saw him they might not let me see you again. You’re their one grandpa and what they know of you is only from what I tell them and old snapshots. I don’t know — but am I speaking too much or too fast? Just relax. But nod if you want me to slow down or shut up. I was saying that I don’t know if you knew that Lanny’s folks died in a car crash together when he was a boy. He was in it too but thrown into some soft bushes so somehow survived. Though he did get a broken neck at the time which he still gets headaches from when he stretches too far. The neck too far. Don’t try it again. All right. There it is. Off my chest. But please don’t make me. I mean please don’t, please make me a silent promise and to yourself you won’t ever try it again. I’ve got to know before I go. It’ll also be a stigma for the kids later on. Worse than anything it’ll kill mom for sure. And you and Jay Junior never got along too well, but you should see how he feels about you now. He’s even postponed going back to his children and job and the new girl he’s going to marry, so if for anything get out of here quick for another wedding. And when mom’s here we often get calls at home from all over from people who are concerned about you. Relatives, friends, and don’t worry about the leg. Whatever happens you’ll still always have your good heart and head and your life. Think of new interests you can develop you never had. Music. And if I was in your position I’d read more and draw. I’d draw the doctors and nurses and how I feel about them and what I see in the room and aides and also my leg. And also my face in the mirror, looking like how I felt about myself in such a state. And in the background I’d get the pills and food and needles and curtains and even this blue urinal here. I’d make a study of it, in fact. A whole portrait devoted to it and whatever else is on the table at the time. I’d draw it all. I’d use my ambition, which you always had plenty of for that, and believe me anybody can draw. You’re smiling. Is it what I’m saying’s so funny or do you agree? Anyway, good. And get out. Your body’s still strong. Your internist only wishes he’d be as healthy as you at your age other than for the other things and says they’ll have to both run you over and then beat you to death to finally get you to go. To go from life he meant. And don’t give mom any more pain. Consent to whatever the doctors say. Then everything will be all right. You’ll be all right. We’re not leaving from mom’s till I’m absolutely sure you’re all right. I’m going out for a smoke now so you get some rest. And don’t pinch, oh, just sleep, just rest.

You can’t believe it, Jay. When they heard at the office they all nearly cried. First the prostectomy. That wasn’t so bad. With fifty percent of us supposed to get it, no man should think he’ll be exempt. But that other thing. Hospitals. When I was in. Not this one, the V.A. downtown, good God what a mess. Same thing, only different. Good hospital, I’m not saying that. Our taxes have at least gone for something and our soldiers are getting treated right, but one thing always leads to the next. Went in to get a few boils on my butt cut off and what happens after that? One week is three. Pneumonia it turns out. You’re telling me pneumonia from boils? Then a bad reaction to the antibiotics to cure up the pneumonia. Then I trip over my roommate’s walker — an ex-major — and he breaks his other wrist and me an arm. Get me out of here, I yell, hand-to-hand combat was never as bad as this. Of course my arm’s set wrong and the boils begin to return. Double pneumonia’s on the way, I begin thinking, and even spare me the thought of what’s following next. You think I don’t discharge myself to have my new boils taken off somewhere else? Just got dressed, packed my gear, slipped down the stairway past the guards and reception desk and went to a private doctor in his office, where in a day he did it for me one-two-three. Also reset the arm and sent me home in an ambulance with a free air cushion and all the drugs in my life I’ll ever need. But how they treating you, Jay? Your wife says they’re making up for all their past mistakes by giving you extra-special food and service. Whatever it is you rate, I’ve never seen better-looking nurses. All Orientals it appears, which I think they’d make the sweetest and most competent. Everyone at work’s optimistic that things are at last working out right for you. They’re also getting you up a plant. Chipping in as if you never retired a hundred years ago. Even half the new help who never heard of you, and a box of chocolates as well, though I’m not supposed to tell. I told them but he’s diabetic and one scimpy bite might mean so long our dearest old pal Jaysie, but Betty the great arranger there said, so, he can give the chocolates to his guests. But you suddenly look tired, as if falling asleep on me. Just go ahead, it’s probably what your body most wants you to do. Their chair’s very comfortable, so I’ll sit here and read my paper and maybe take a nap myself.

Good evening. Your operation’s scheduled for tomorrow morning at eight. It’ll take from two to three hours, and naturally you’ll be totally anesthetized the entire time. After the operation you’ll go to recovery room for several hours and then be returned here. You’ll be getting the best after-surgery treatment available, and at home the hospital’s best physical therapists and homecare nursing staff. I also understand you have an excellent nurse in your wife. I would have preferred getting your written permission, but because there isn’t a day to lose with your leg, I’m satisfied with your wife’s okay. I want you to know I’d never operate if your internist didn’t say you’re a thousand times improved since you were admitted with your urine retention and had your prostate removed. And then your self-inflicted development, which you’ve healed faster than expected and have sufficiently recovered from. Let’s be frank. You were here when your wife asked what would happen if the implant didn’t take. I said we’d discuss that bridge if we had to come to it. Well we’re there now and must cross. I told you both at the time that we were one run behind with two out in the ninth with your leg and what I wanted to do, but unfortunately couldn’t, was hit a homerun with a man on. Now it’s a brand new ball game, one much simpler to win and with negligible trial and risk. I can’t think of anything else to tell you, other than you’ll be shaved tonight, wakened at seven and fed no food or fluids till tomorrow’s I.V. If there are no further questions, I’ll see you in the morning when they bring you up at eight.