Two Of Those

Everyone else has left the room. The doctors, the nurses, the technicians, the orderly. Telling me they'll return shortly; the doctors, that is. Arrangements must be made to formally admit me. Soon, they say, an X-ray technician will be by. Also someone from Pharmacy.

The blood bank upstairs has been notified. They're looking to see if there are any previous records. They will find nothing. I have had no previous episodes. I told them that. They are in the process of confirming my blood type.

Someone pokes his head around the curtain edges, looks at me, grins, says, "I'm Pierre".

"Hello, Pierre."

He pulls the curtain, draws himself into the room. A short, neat man in a blue tunic, with a flat-top hair-cut.

"I'm going to put in your IV airlocks."

"Oh." Do I know what that is? I don't ask. I trust; have I many other options?

"Won't take long."

He approaches the gurney and begins to lower it. Then he crouches on his knees, on the right side of the bed.

"You could use some knee pads" I observe. Good sport, that's me.

He laughs. A nice, loose snicker. "At home, I've got my gardening knee pads. Never thought to bring them here."

"You like to garden?"

"I sure do. When I'm out there I forget everything else. It's restful."

He is carefully manoeuvring a slit into my wrist. There is a sudden sharp pain and he places the air lock carefully into position, tapes it quickly into place. He had forewarned me. He is deft and skillful, a well-practised technician. No more pain. He is talking throughout the process, responding to me.

"Like begonias in your garden?" I ask this new gardening soul mate. "It's one of my favourite bloomers", I tell him.

"Sure I do. I have lots of them", he responds eager to discuss gardening. Gardeners are like that. Never know where you'll pick up some practical tips.

"Keep them over-winter", I tell him. "Don't toss them into the compost."

"No? What do you do with them?"

"Cut the stem off sharply at the corm. Shake as much dirt off the corm as you can. Stick them all in an open paper box, an old fruit basket, a plastic egg tray, anything, and put them in the basement to over-winter."

"Yes? You can do that?"

"Yes, I do! Year after year. They only get better. Bigger blooms, more gorgeous than the ones you buy freshly in bloom at the spring nursery. Some of them will sprout in the basement, come spring. Some of them will even flower, just sitting there, piled on top of one another!"

"I'll try it!" he says happily, moving around to the other side, crouching, beginning work on the other wrist.

"You'll need two", he says, nodding at the right wrist, satisfyingly mutilated, as he starts in on the left one.