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Authors: Kristen Lynn
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feeling?”
“Wait a minute, how are you feeling?” I ask.
“I shouldn’t have told you any of that. I apologize for having a moment earlier, but I needed to get it off my chest. I guess even the nurses here have meltdowns sometimes. I should be helping you get better so don’t even think another thought about me, okay?”
“Well okay, but you know there are ways to get back at this guy.”
“What do you…no…just forget it. I need to move on with my life. Plus, I have one more patient to see before the shift switch.”
“What, you’re leaving?”
“Vada, I’m the day nurse. You have a different nurse at night. Have you not even noticed?”
“I guess the sleeping pills must really work.”
“Okay, I’ll be back in the morning and I’m trying to get overtime, so I may be here more hours than I normally would. Good night…take those pills first before I go.”
“Hmm…a sleeping pill and a pooping pill I am guessing?”
“They give those to everyone. Most prescription meds clog your tank.” This strikes me as funny because I bet Katelyn doesn’t poop. Perfect people don’t poop, do they?
“Thanks Katelyn, and if you change your mind and want some help with this guy…you know where to find me. I’m really good at screwing people up. It’s always been one of my personal strengths.”
“Thanks Vada. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Katelyn walks out, shutting the door behind her. The door is big and creaky and kind of appropriate for a place like this. I can only imagine the different kinds of women who’ve been here before me, who have slept in this bed. There are so many reasons people are here and all of them seem somewhat normal to me. Aren’t we all a little OCD...a little anxious...a little depressed...a little manic...a little paranoid...a little addicted to something? Aren’t we all a little unbalanced?
My deep thoughts are interrupted by a knock on the door. For the love of Haley’s Comet, can’t a girl get some rest around here? I open it a crack and it’s that Jessalyn girl. It’s after nine. I forgot. I knew there was something I forgot; those brownies messed with my memory. I nervously open the door all the way to let her in. She is just a tiny little thing. She looks like a model with blonde waist-length hair that was left to air dry and magically looks like it’s made for the runway. Her skin is pale and her face is pretty, like in a natural way, not a false eyelash kind of way. She seems to be in her jammies too: striped boy shorts and a red lacey tank top that says Nighty Night. Well dammit! I’m back to feeling lame.
“You got my note right?” she asks. She is twirling a strand of blonde hair around her finger.
“Umm…yes. I’m sorry. It’s been a really busy day and I just forgot.”
“Whatever.” She looks off to the side as if deliberately trying not to make eye contact.
Awkward silence….ugh...I hate awkward silence.
“Did you need something?” I ask.
“I’m on to you.” she tells me. Duh ? Like I didn’t read the note, but what the hell is she talking about? I don’t love this conversation we are having.
“Well…congratulations, I guess.” I just want to go to sleep and I can already feel the sleeping pill making my eyes all blinky.
“I know you’re not really bulimic. I’m calling your bullshit on that one. So what is it really? Are you a pathological liar? A sex addict? Do you hear voices? Oh…wait, I know. You have postpartum, severe postpartum! Am I right?” she is laughing, still twirling her hair.
I do not know what to tell her. Who the hell does this girl think she is? I don’t have to tell her a damn thing.
“Why do you care? Why are you making it your business?” I ask her.
“Because I don’t like to see people spit lies all over my group. A lot of us have real eating disorders. It’s not fun, okay? It sucks, and
“Wait a minute, how are you feeling?” I ask.
“I shouldn’t have told you any of that. I apologize for having a moment earlier, but I needed to get it off my chest. I guess even the nurses here have meltdowns sometimes. I should be helping you get better so don’t even think another thought about me, okay?”
“Well okay, but you know there are ways to get back at this guy.”
“What do you…no…just forget it. I need to move on with my life. Plus, I have one more patient to see before the shift switch.”
“What, you’re leaving?”
“Vada, I’m the day nurse. You have a different nurse at night. Have you not even noticed?”
“I guess the sleeping pills must really work.”
“Okay, I’ll be back in the morning and I’m trying to get overtime, so I may be here more hours than I normally would. Good night…take those pills first before I go.”
“Hmm…a sleeping pill and a pooping pill I am guessing?”
“They give those to everyone. Most prescription meds clog your tank.” This strikes me as funny because I bet Katelyn doesn’t poop. Perfect people don’t poop, do they?
“Thanks Katelyn, and if you change your mind and want some help with this guy…you know where to find me. I’m really good at screwing people up. It’s always been one of my personal strengths.”
“Thanks Vada. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Katelyn walks out, shutting the door behind her. The door is big and creaky and kind of appropriate for a place like this. I can only imagine the different kinds of women who’ve been here before me, who have slept in this bed. There are so many reasons people are here and all of them seem somewhat normal to me. Aren’t we all a little OCD...a little anxious...a little depressed...a little manic...a little paranoid...a little addicted to something? Aren’t we all a little unbalanced?
My deep thoughts are interrupted by a knock on the door. For the love of Haley’s Comet, can’t a girl get some rest around here? I open it a crack and it’s that Jessalyn girl. It’s after nine. I forgot. I knew there was something I forgot; those brownies messed with my memory. I nervously open the door all the way to let her in. She is just a tiny little thing. She looks like a model with blonde waist-length hair that was left to air dry and magically looks like it’s made for the runway. Her skin is pale and her face is pretty, like in a natural way, not a false eyelash kind of way. She seems to be in her jammies too: striped boy shorts and a red lacey tank top that says Nighty Night. Well dammit! I’m back to feeling lame.
“You got my note right?” she asks. She is twirling a strand of blonde hair around her finger.
“Umm…yes. I’m sorry. It’s been a really busy day and I just forgot.”
“Whatever.” She looks off to the side as if deliberately trying not to make eye contact.
Awkward silence….ugh...I hate awkward silence.
“Did you need something?” I ask.
“I’m on to you.” she tells me. Duh ? Like I didn’t read the note, but what the hell is she talking about? I don’t love this conversation we are having.
“Well…congratulations, I guess.” I just want to go to sleep and I can already feel the sleeping pill making my eyes all blinky.
“I know you’re not really bulimic. I’m calling your bullshit on that one. So what is it really? Are you a pathological liar? A sex addict? Do you hear voices? Oh…wait, I know. You have postpartum, severe postpartum! Am I right?” she is laughing, still twirling her hair.
I do not know what to tell her. Who the hell does this girl think she is? I don’t have to tell her a damn thing.
“Why do you care? Why are you making it your business?” I ask her.
“Because I don’t like to see people spit lies all over my group. A lot of us have real eating disorders. It’s not fun, okay? It sucks, and
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