places: waking mr. finch

I woke to white light.  The walls were white, the sheets were white and her clothes were white. She was a beautiful angel hovering over me, a red head with big green eyes.  She looked at me and smiled. 

“Am I in heaven?” I asked.

She put her cool hand on my brow and then took a thermometer out of my mouth.  “No, you’re at St. Joseph's.”

I raised my eyebrows.

"Hospital."

She walked to the door and spoke to a doctor in the hall. 

“Doctor, Mr. Finch is awake.”

“Thank you nurse, check the IV in the next room and come back when your through seeing to Mrs. Tibit.”

“Yes doctor.”

The doctor stepped into the room. 

“Mr. Finch, my name is Doctor Clarence Rowe.  You just had yourself a good sleep.  How are you?”

“You’re the doc, you tell me.”

“Do you want the good news first?”

“How bad can the bad news be?  You’re starting this like a bad joke.  Just give me the straight dope.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t have the greatest bedside manner.  You are fine Mr. Finch.  The accident banged you up pretty good.  You suffered no broken bones, but you are pretty bruised up.  You had a laceration on your head. We stitched that up for you.”

“What else?  Get to the punch-line.”

“Well the bad news is nothing life threatening, just a little something your going to have to learn to deal without.”

“Spill it doc - you’re making me nervous."

“I am sorry to have to inform you that you lost an appendage during the accident.”

“A what?”

“Appendage.”

“Appendix?"

“No, an appendage. a digit.”

“Digit?”

“Yes, Mr. Finch, during the accident.”

“Are you still trying to tell me that joke you started earlier?”

“The doctor sighed.  No Mr. Finch, we had to stitch up where your digit had been so you wouldn’t bleed to death.” 

I lifted my head up from the pillow to see what I was missing from my body.  I didn’t understand doctor talk. I nervously glanced down the sheet landscape to see if perchance the term 'digit’ was doctor was telling me I could never be a family man.”

I was very relieved when the pretty nurse with the green eyes came in and held up my right hand. 

“A digit is a finger.  You lost your pinky finger.”

“Oh.” I responded, looking at the bandages.  I suddenly remembered the quick surgery in Clayton’s kitchen I performed on myself with a meat cleaver.  Last night came back to me.

I know that they’ve got me on something. I don’t feel right. My brain feels all fuzzy.  I still feel like I’m dreaming, still kind of nauseated.  And why are they calling me Finch?  Who’s Finch? 

“Why am I here anyway?”

Dr. Rowe pulled up a chair next to my bed.  “You were brought in this morning about fifteen minutes after five.  The ambulance attendants said that you rolled your car.  Witnesses at the scene said that you just drove off the road.  Were you drinking last night?”

“No, I wasn’t drinking.  I don’t remember what happened.  I guess I just fell asleep at the wheel.”

“I am sorry about your finger.  It was a severed clean off, just above the knuckle.

“I feel doped.”

“Yes, the medicine is working too.”

“You’re stitched and bandaged up.  You should be okay.  I’d like to keep you here just a little while longer to make sure there’s nothing internal going on.  We tried to bring you out of it when you arrived, but we gave up.  I was concerned you might have a concussion, but then you started snoring.  I had nurse Jones here sit with you until you woke.”

“Thanks doc.”

“From what we were told about the accident, you’re one lucky fellow.”

I needed to get out of there, but I felt like I’d been hit by a freight train.  I wanted to sleep more.  I needed to stop hurting. 

“Get some rest Mr. Finch - I’ll check back in on you in a few hours.”  The doctor walked to the door and turned around, “Is there anyone we can call for you?  Anyone you need to let know where you are and that you're okay?”

“No, no one Doc.”

“Mr. Finch...”

I get it!  They pulled out the wrong wallet from my pocket.  Finch must’ve been that goon’s last name...Sam Finch.

“Just let the nurse know what you need.  I can prescribe you more pain medication, fix you up some to go.  You’re  going to be very sore for the next few days.”

“Please, nothing to make me drowsy or dopey doc.  I’ve got things to do.”

“You don’t need to be doing anything.  You need rest. You need time to heal."

The nurse poured me a glass of ice water and placed a straw in it. She helped position me so I could take a drink. 

“You wouldn’t happen to have some scotch would you?” I asked.

“No Mr. Finch, no scotch.  That’s for our real patients.”

I laid my head back down an counted the ceiling tile until I fell back to sleep.  What ever they gave me sure felt good.