Are You Ready to Detox?

“Thank God you are here, Mickey… I need help,” falling into his arms she felt safe.

“Was it Nick?”

“No… it isn’t what you think… it was my fault. I hit him first. I started it… ouch,” each word sent searing pain through her jaw, “It hurts when I try to talk.”

“Don’t worry; I’ll get you to the damned ER.”

 “You might have to take care of the dogs a few days too.”

“What? They don’t keep you overnight… even if your jaw is broken…”

“I have an abscess…”

“An abscess, what, I thought you were clean?”

His expression of pity… deep hurt…moved her… guilt… shame all mixed with a strange comfort in his arms, “Oh, Mickey, it hurts to talk.”

“No problem, I’ll get you to the hospital…”

The abscess had to be cleaned and they knocked her out to fix the broken jaw (mandibuler fracture they called it)… Adriane’s nose and cheek bone were broken too: her left eye was swollen shut by the time Mickey dropped her off at the E.R. He had to get back to his cab. She told him to go ahead and that she’d be okay.

They had to do some fixing and put her up in a private room… quarantined at that. The abscess left a crater; a gash, at least an inch deep, four inches long and an inch and a half wide, down to the muscle. An oxygen mask was taped down on her face and another taped onto the gash. The oxygen mask on the gash was weird… something about oxygen speeds the healing. Her jaw was wired shut. She tried to talk through her teeth and the mask. One of her doctors was a young, and, she thought, a handsome man who must have been an addiction specialist. She relaxed as she intuitively knew he was kind.

“Just show me some fingers or nod yes or no. How long have you been using?” he asked.

She held up two fingers.

“Two years?”

“Uh, uh…nuh…” She knew he couldn’t understand her if she tried to speak through her teeth and the mask but she tried anyway.

“Two months?”

She nodded a yes.

 “Well, the anesthetics and Demerol will stave off withdrawals while you are on them. Are you ready to detox?”

She weighed her options… If I don’t have something I will go back to drinking and if I don’t drink I will go crazy. The last time in France was particularly bad because I did it cold-turkey. I dread so much the muscle aches, the stomach cramps. I couldn’t sleep… and more than anything the gnawing, the restlessness, vomiting, diarrhea… as the demonic mania of heroin calls me…

“Nu-uh!” She tossed her head back and forth and exclaimed through her wired teeth.

“If you are afraid, we have some pretty good medications that help with the symptoms,” he tried to assure me.

“Pleeeezh, nuh.” She knew she could withdraw on the medications but what will she do after that?

“You know, we could have lost you?” He hesitated but could sense she wasn’t ready, “I’ll keep checking on you though, okay?”

She loved warmth in his tone. There was no hint of medical superiority. His bedside manner was more like a visit from a concerned friend. She didn’t want him to leave. She slept… for a few hours.

She awoke to see Richards, the cop’s, face. He was cold and dead serious.

“I have to make a report on what happened. Can you help me with that? Just nod yes or no.” He pulled up a chair next to her. Unlike the doctor she felt uneasy about this cop. What the hell was she going to be able to tell him through her wired jaw and oxygen mask? She didn’t want to rat out Nick. Then again, she knew he’d probably do the best he could to protect Nick. No one would believe anything his junkie wife said if ever it went to court for spousal abuse.

She tried to shout… It probably sounded more like a muffled, “eee---iiit---me, duumut!”

“Who hit you, Mickey?”

“Nuuh, Nick!”

“Mick?”

Shit, she thought… this is useless. I can’t talk and this guy is obtuse. I want to sleep… “Guuh-uhhhwuh!” she tried to say, “Go away!”

She closed her eyes and ignored him until a nurse showed up at the door. “Mrs. Baker needs to rest. You can try again in a few days.”

“I have enough now, thanks.” He got up to leave.

 He went for the door; she ripped off the taped mask and yelled as best she could through her teeth… “No, it was Nick… Nick! And it was my fault!”

He didn’t stop or acknowledge this plea at all. She heard him talking with the nurse in the hall outside the door.

“Yes, her husband says she was fine when he left to run some errands. That is when he saw Mr. McKee coming up the street in his taxi.”

She feared for Mickey and that this Richards would use him to cover Nick.