Listen to Me!

[day 1, morning after surgery]

The quiet voice in my head is insistent.  “Listen to me!  You should kill him!”

“Wha-a-t…?” my fuzzy brain responds.  “Who…who’re you?”

“I’m Harlequin, of course.  I’m you!  And you can kill him if you want.”

“Wha-a-t…?  Whatta you sayin’…?”

“You can kill that nurse, the monster who’s denying you the drugs that could ease your pain.”

“My nurse…?”  In my pain, through a drug-addled fog, I only vaguely remember the large, dark shape hovering over me last night.

“He’s refusing to increase your pain meds!” Harlequin hisses.  “You should kill him.”

[day 3, still in pain]

The voice is more adamant now.  “They can’t do this to you!  You have the right to the meds they’re keeping from you!”

My still-confused brain replies, “I’m…I’m getting meds.  I jus’…I jus’ push this…this right here.”  My fingers find the small button at the end of a long cord clamped to my bed-rail.

“Phfft!” Harlequin scoffs.  “There’s nothing there!  It’s a placebo.  Nothing happens when you push it.”

“What…?” I murmur silently.

“Are you in pain right now?  Be honest with yourself?  Are you in pain?”

I nod.

“You should kill them!  They have no right to keep the meds from you!”

[day 5, pain continues unabated]

The doctor’s flat voice penetrates the miasma of pain I’m feeling.  “We’ve run into a setback, I’m afraid.  Nothing we can’t handle, just a spot of abdominal infection.  But you’re in good hands.  Just a few more days.”

Before I can collect my thoughts, she’s gone, she and the three acolytes trailing her with their clipboards.

 “You see?” Harlequin huffs.  “You see?  They’re not curing you!  They’re torturing you for their own pleasure.  They know you’re in pain, and they’re enjoying it.”

 “They’re not…they’re not enjoy…”

“You think not?  So why are you still in such pain?  It’s still hurting, is it not?”

I nod wearily.

“You could kill them all, you know.  You’d be within your rights.”

[day 7, pain continues]

She’s checking my chart studiously, and before she speaks, I ask the doctor, “How…how’m I doin’?  It still hurts!”

“To be expected,” she replies briskly.  “The small infection we experienced was a tad more tenacious than we anticipated, but we’re over the hump now.”

“What’m I on?” I ask.  “It still hurts bad!”

She checks the chart again.  “We can up the dose a bit, at least for a day or so.  With any luck, we may be going home after that.”  She jots a note on the chart before adjusting the dials on the dispenser on the IV stand.  After pressing the button on my meds cord, and with a nod to her coterie, she disappears through the door.

“We can up the dose a bit,” Harlequin mimics her, his voice dripping sarcasm. “She didn’t even tell you what they’re giving you!”

My brain is reacting to whatever the button just released, and I struggle to answer.  “She…she seems nice…”

“Nice?  You don’t need nice!  Not when you’re still in pain like this!  You need a competent doctor who’ll give you the meds you need.  You should kill her!”

[day 8, pain somewhat abated, brain still foggy]

“T’morrow?  I’m going home t’morrow?  But it still hurts!”

The doctor smiles.  “Don’t worry, we’ll give you something to help with that.  Our nasty infection has cleared up nicely.  We’re in the clear now.”

She turns to leave, but I’m quick enough to stop her.  “What ‘bout the…y’know, the voices?”

“Voices?” she says, glancing at the cadre with her.

“Yeah, there’s voices in my head, keep tellin’ me I’m not gettin’ better.  Tellin’ me I need more drugs for the pain…tellin’ me other stuff, too.”

She flashes what’s meant to pass for a reassuring smile.  “Those voices are what we call hallucinations.  We’re susceptible to delusionary thoughts and emotions when we’re on strong meds, which is what we’ve been prescribing for more than a week.”

I ponder that, struggling.  “So…so it’s jus’ me hearin’ things?”

“Exactly!  When we reduce the potency of dosage we’re taking, we won’t hear the voices anymore.  Nobody hears such voices after they leave hospital.  We’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

Harlequin is there the moment she’s gone.  “We’ll be fine?  You’re not going to be fine.  Not as long as you’re in pain.”

I nod uncertainly.

[day 9, headed home]

Clambering sluggishly out of the wheelchair that brought me to the front door, I hail a cab from the waiting line.  I’m still in pain, but mercifully, I haven’t heard a thing from Harlequin since yesterday.  Maybe that know-it-all doctor was right. 

Once settled in the backseat, I give the ancient driver the address.

“You okay, pal?  Looks like you’re in pain, y’know?”

I wince, for it’s true.  The last dose seems not to have had any noticeable effect.

“You sure ya should be goin’ home?  Maybe you oughta go back in there, make sure you’re okay.”

I shake my head. “I’m fine. Let’s jus’ go.”

“You sure?  I’ll walk back in with ya, make sure ya get looked at.”

Harlequin’s quiet voice in my head suddenly intrudes.  “Listen to me!  This guy’s got no business telling you what to do!”

I nod.

“You should kill him!”

_{© J. Bradley Burt 2022}