I don't remember the details. The guy wrote a book about a million pieces of glass. Oprah loved it. Turned out he made it up. I think the cover had shattered glass on the beach or something. I don't remember the details - this is my story.
The last thing I saw was green formica. The last thing I thought was; "This is going to hurt."
I am in the emergency room. Someone is asking me to lift my left leg. My leg won't move.
"Why won't it move?" I am screaming. I am scared.
They ask me to squeeze their fingers. My left hand won't squeeze. What is happening? I don't know what is happening. I am scared. Seriously afraid.
Huddled outside the room I hear them talking about me. Illnesses, pain medication - overdose. Nucynta, coma sleeping, setting my hair on fire, burning my clothing, falling asleep under the television.
Head scan is fine. No stroke. Blood work is fine. Urine sample is all narcotics. More huddled talking.
Nurse comes in with a saline bag. "What is that for?" I ask.
"You are dehydrated." She is kind. Another women is talking. I don't know what she is saying. I want to go home. I beg.
The nurse injects something into the IV. "What is that?"
"Norcaine. It will clean the narcotics out of your system."
Everyone leaves, except Aldona Mae.
Shit! Wait! Something is wrong. I sit bolt upright. My hair is everywhere. Aldona runs into hallway. The nurse comes back.
"It is the narcotics leaving your body." she calmly says.
This is no time for calm southern drawls. I am going to die. Everyone leaves, except Aldona Mae.
I did not know our insides even had glass. In the next 30 minutes 1/2 million pieces of glass exited my body. (that is not an exact count) I can feel every piece. Out of my eyes, my hands, my face, my toes - no pore is left uncut. I am writhing in agony.
"Why are you doing this?" I scream at Aldona.
She is texting.
There is no sound. There is no blood. You can't see them. Tiny, sharp, shredding - My entire body spasms. Every muscle pulled in a different direction. I am going to die. I wish I were dead.
How long was it? How long does it take your body to push out 1/2 million pieces of sharp, cutting, shredding glass? I don't know. It was 3 years, 4 years - it was one moment.
Now they want me to stay in the hospital. NO WAY! AMA - whatever. Crying glass - just take me home please. I am begging as I have never begged before. I am thinking about my hair, it is everywhere. Aldona is on the phone.
I am on the phone. It is Eileen. Thank goodness. Eileen will explain it all and then I can go home.
When I hear her voice I am scared. Were she in the room she may have knocked me into next week. "NO MORE BULLSHIT! THAT IS BULLSHIT! LIES AND MORE LIES."
I understand. "You stay in the hospital. Give your sister one night of peace."
Ok. That is it. I will stay. More talking. Someone asks me;
"Are you accepting admittance?"
I nod. Aldona says; "You have to say it."
I am angry; "Yes, I said yes. Is everyone happy?"
I am angry. I am in pain. I did not know our insides were made of glass. I did not know the glass had to come out. I did not know my muscles could hurt so much. I can feel them. I can move my left leg - I don't want to. Reality is the beating I just put on myself. What the "F" have I done? I don't know anything.
They tell Aldona to leave. They will get me in a room. She says I love you. Bullshit!
People are moving. I don't know. Curled in a fetal position. At least I have my hat on. My hair is under the hat. Where are my clothes? I know nothing. I feel such excruciating pain. I wonder how many band aides it will take to cover all the cuts. 1/2 million pieces of glass - that is a lot of band aides. Then I laugh because in my head I am wondering if they will give me something to stop the pain? Reckon not.
That was some baseball bat. Full body spasms - I don't recommend them. Holy cow - Phil Rizutto, Yankees - I like the Mets. I have my Mets tuke on. Good thing, my hair is out of control. Really crazy cat lady hair.
No, nothing is funny. I don't know what hospital I am in. I don't know what they are doing. Lying (pe0ple lie, objects lay - that is the rule) Lying, curled like a baby, rocking - touching my hat, wanting my clothes. I am not crying. I think I am past tears. So much glass came out of my eyes, tears would sting.
In a room, I put on my clothes. TV doesn't work. Looks like this room is under construction. It is dark. I clutch my knees to my chest. The silence is deafening. I could leave. Just walk out. No one is here. No one has come in. I could walk away. I don't remember - or I remember too much. I don't know anything.
Then I hear it. I hear her - "Aunt Lee Lee."
I didn't know our insides were made of glass.
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