Cellular (2010)
“The nausea meds haven’t kicked in yet. If I lie all the way down, the nausea gets worse. If I sit up, my head hurts.
My stomach heaves. I lean on an elbow and retch. Again. Wipe my mouth. Rinse with water, spit. The water swirls over the brownish puke. Yesterday’s lentil soup, the odd orange fleck of carrot.
Nurse Sangha cleans out the bucket, brings me my toothbrush. I spit in a basin. Close my eyes. My head swims. I open them. Stare at the blank tv screen. There’s nothing on but kids’ cartoon...s and talk shows. I know. I’ve checked.
This sucks. I can’t read, can’t talk, can’t do anything. Nausea has taken over my world like an unwelcome guest who won’t leave.
There’s a tap on the door. It opens. Lark.
“Can I come in?”
I don’t feel like company, least of all her and her fake happiness. But maybe she’ll distract me. I beckon with my pinkie finger.
She stands by the bed. “Bucket blues, huh?”
I start to nod, then stop. Even that motion makes it worse.
“Poor boy.MoreLess
My stomach heaves. I lean on an elbow and retch. Again. Wipe my mouth. Rinse with water, spit. The water swirls over the brownish puke. Yesterday’s lentil soup, the odd orange fleck of carrot.
Nurse Sangha cleans out the bucket, brings me my toothbrush. I spit in a basin. Close my eyes. My head swims. I open them. Stare at the blank tv screen. There’s nothing on but kids’ cartoon...s and talk shows. I know. I’ve checked.
This sucks. I can’t read, can’t talk, can’t do anything. Nausea has taken over my world like an unwelcome guest who won’t leave.
There’s a tap on the door. It opens. Lark.
“Can I come in?”
I don’t feel like company, least of all her and her fake happiness. But maybe she’ll distract me. I beckon with my pinkie finger.
She stands by the bed. “Bucket blues, huh?”
I start to nod, then stop. Even that motion makes it worse.
“Poor boy.MoreLess
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