Chapter One

 

My forehead was swollen like a grapefruit from a nasty infection in my pierced eyebrow. I couldn’t open my left eye because of the swelling, and the pain in my head was excruciating. It was so bad, that if my foster mother, Daisy the Deranged, screamed one more obscenity at me I was going to have to kill her. After stealing fake ID out of a young lady’s Gucci bag at the Acme Grocery Store, I took it straight to Dean’s Tattoo and Piercing Parlor. It was a seedy, dark place, but he swore his needles were clean. He lied. The big silver ball I had installed along my eyebrow glittered like a Christmas ornament and reminded me of better times. Until my skin turned hot and red and started weeping a sticky pus into my eyeball. Finally, my current foster parents, another set of idiots, with whom I had been residing for exactly 33 heinous days, actually noticed my face! It took a swelling the size of a grapefruit, crimson and oozing, for them to finally look at me. And then the crap hit the fan.

Foster Dad jumped back away from me like I was a contagious disease. I could really feel the love. Foster Mom cursed a stream of very foul words, and complained that the doctor’s visit and treatment costs would eat into her money. That’s what I was to those two, just another paycheck. By the way, they were Foster Mom and Dad # 9. I’ve been shuttled from house to house for 2 years now. About every two months, I move to a new place. Believe me, this is no fault of my own.

My parents kicked the bucket in a car accident two years ago. No grandparents were left, and crazy Aunt Ella who was finally diagnosed as bipolar, couldn’t possibly take me in and raise me, so I entered the Pennsylvania Foster Care system. And what a sad system it is. The local Children and Youth Services from my county placed me in my first loving home at the tender age of 12 and a half. I was mature for my age, and probably could have survived on my own if the bureaucrats had let me at my trust fund. But that’s not how it works, and apparently every 12 year old needs an immature adult to watch over them. And so began the journey that led me to where I am today, in front of my new Foster parents, in trouble again.

Foster Mom, Daisy the Deranged, took me that night to the local emergency room. She complained non-stop on the ride to the hospital in her beat up old Dodge about how irresponsible I was.

“Jessie, why would you go and do such a thing to your face? What is the point of that gaudy silver ball? It doesn’t make you any prettier, you know?” she snapped as she chewed her gum with her mouth open. It wasn’t gaping open quite as much as her bright pink blouse which exposed a large and very sweaty cleavage.

I sat mute in the front passenger seat with my head throbbing. The tissue I was using to dab my wound was soaked with foul smelling pus. If only she would just shut up.

She droned on, “Jessie, did your last foster family let you get away with this kind of behavior? I won’t stand for it.  God, I wish I had a cigarette. You don’t happen to have one of those do you?” Daisy glanced sideways at me with a brown toothed grin.  “Don’t look so stupid. I’m pretty sure you smoke.”

If it wasn’t so excruciatingly painful, I would have rolled my eyes up into my head. Her voice was like a tiger clawing into my brain. Finally, we arrived at the hospital. A very clean ambulance was sitting out front.  Daisy grabbed my wrist and dragged me inside. “I don’t have all night Frankenstein.”

She checked me in and argued with the woman behind the desk about the insurance. Daisy pulled her pink shorts out of her crack. “Sit right there, child, and don’t move a muscle. I’m going to hit the can.”

I was the only one in the waiting area. It must have been a slow night for emergencies in Montville, Pennsylvania or Hicktown, USA as I called it. This hospital could use some new furniture was my thought as I looked around at the dirty chairs and drab drapes. It was not a very welcoming place. And there was a huge brown stain on the carpet which gave me the shivers.

Real chills were wracking my body by the time a spritely, young nurse called my name. “Oh, look at you, honey!” she squeaked. “You poor little thing. How old are you anyway?” If her voice were any higher, only dogs could hear her.

“Sixteen.” I lied.

She didn’t glance twice at me, but put me behind a curtain and told me to wait for the doctor.

I was hoping I was hidden enough so that Daisy the Deranged wouldn’t be able to find me, but I heard her outside the curtain. “Where the hell is the doctor? What kind of a hospital is this? I been waitin’ with my foster kid forever.” She shoved open the curtain and blew a big, pink bubble. “That’s looking even uglier, kid. Are you happy now?”

I refused to dignify that with the obvious answer. Of course, I wasn’t happy. I was going to have to take out my Christmas ball, what I came to think of as my link to my parents. Christmas was a happy time before they died. Egg bake and doughnuts, and the smell of warm cider from the stovetop tickled my memories. I smelled my mother’s perfume and felt her warm arms around me. I could still almost remember what it felt like for her to gently kiss my cheek. A poke in my chest disrupted my reverie.

“Hey, Frankenstein, I asked you a question. Are. You. Happy. Now?” she said slowly like I was learning disabled.

“No”, I muttered.

Before she could harass me further, a good looking doctor strolled in with a gleaming white smile on his face. He was tall and trim and reminded me of my dad. My real dad who smelled like seashells and was full of laughter, not my foster dad #9, Ivan the Idiot, who smelled like beer and was full of crap. “Woah! Would you look at that. Young lady, I’m Dr. Tom, but you can call me Dr. Tom.”

I smirked. He seemed to take it as a sign that I approved of his sense of humor.

“I saw a little smile. Good. That means you are alive and well. Now let’s have a look at that infection.” He gently touched the swelling on my forehead with tender hands, but it hurt just the same. I winced and pulled away. “Okay, I’m going to have to open that up and let the pus drain, for you to get better.”

Daisy screeched, “Are you going to cut into her brain!? Cause you won’t find anything. Isn’t that right, genius?”

Neither the doctor nor myself found her the least bit entertaining.

Dr. Tom gave her a look that would have withered roses and this pleased me.  Then he surprised me by offering her a cigarette from his front pocket, and told her to go outside to smoke it. She clutched it with a gnarled hand faster than a mongoose can strike, and disappeared. I let out an audible sigh of relief.

“Parents.” He said shaking his head. “They can be tough to live with.”

I blurted out, “She’s not my real mom.”

“Oh, I could tell, honey. And thank God for that, huh?”

“You said it.” I wondered why I never got a foster dad like Dr. Tom. He was probably too busy to foster, or didn’t need the money. He had a very kind way about him, plus, he kept cigarettes in his pocket, and they would be easy for me to steal.

The nurse was busy prepping a tray with scalpels and gauze and antiseptic. I tried not to look scared, even though I was starting to feel my heart hammer in my chest.

Dr. Tom noticed right away. “Oh, don’t worry about that stuff. I’ll numb you up so you don’t feel a thing. And I won’t be cutting into your brain. Certainly, not. You know, you have a hard bone, called the skull between this infection and your brain. I won’t even be close to your brain.”

I nodded and laid back on the gurney.

Dr. Tom whistled a tune. The nurse slinked in like a sneaky cat and was on my other side lickety-split.

“Now, Jessie, I’m just going to clean the area with some Betadine, and then I’ll tell you when it’s time for numbing medicine.”

The nurse squeaked, “Try not to move your head, hon.”

Dr. Tom winked at me and said, “Or I might accidentally cut into your brain.”

I laughed in spite of my situation. There was a cool sensation of liquid on my forehead, and I could feel it dripping through my hair. Dr. Tom gave me a warning count down, and I tensed all my muscles. I felt a miniscule prick above my eye, and then a fierce burning pain all through my forehead. Part of me wanted to punch this joker in the eye and flee from the building, but there was something about Dr. Tom that I trusted.

“Okay, Jess, that’s perfect. From here on out, you’ll just feel pressure, no pain. If you do feel any pain, you let me know.”

A sensation of little birds scurrying across my forehead followed which was Dr. Tom opening the abscess with a scalpel blade. Pus flew out of that thing and hit his safety glasses. Then I felt a relief of pressure and a warm liquid was oozing down my eyelid and into my eye. There was a foul odor with this and the young nurse wrinkled her pert little nose. “That’s gotta feel better, hon,” she said. I’m going to set up an IV port in your arm here, because the doctor wants you to have antibiotics before you go.”

I never wanted to leave. This man was so confident, and so kind. He could cut me all over. I’ve tried that, too, by the way. Cutting. It’s supposed to relieve your stress, and let the pain of life dissipate. It wasn’t my thing.

“I’ve got another patient, Jessie, but after your antibiotics run in, and if there are no other emergencies, would you like a tour of the ER?”

I nodded. I wanted to stay forever. Most people want to vacate the premises of hospitals as quickly as possible. Sometimes they smell bad, and sometimes they are creepy. This one wasn’t like that. It was just a little run down. I pictured having Christmas morning here with Dr. Tom. If he was my foster dad, and had to work the holiday, we would come in together and open presents between patients.  And then we could have egg bake and hot chocolate. I’m sure they have a microwave somewhere.  The nurse packing my wound brought me out of my fantasy. It was starting to pain a bit. She was putting about a million miles of ribbon into my wound.

“How big is the hole?”I asked.

“Oh, it’s small hon. We just shove a ton of this packing tape in there to keep it open and let it drain. It looks like more than it really is.”

It felt like she was putting the entire state of Rhode Island in there.

“Ok, hon, Dr. Tom says I should give you some pain pills. You’ll like these.”

She gave me a Percocet to take. Another thing I was into for a wee bit, but decided it wasn’t really my thing either. And they were stinking expensive!

I relaxed when she left my cubicle and glanced at a magazine. Soon Dr. Tom returned and said it was time for my tour if I was feeling up to it. He took me to the main desk first and showed me a bunch of monitors that were used to keep an eye on the heart rhythms of the various patients. “Pretty cool, huh, Jess?” I wasn’t sure I felt the same degree of excitement he did, but nodded my head. This turned out not to be a good idea as it sent shooting pains into my eyeball.

Next we walked into the acute trauma area where there was all kinds of interesting equipment. It looked like a torture chamber. Dr. Tom showed me a metal contraption to stick a pipe in someone’s throat to help them breathe. “Oh, and look at this! It’s a tray to stick a tube through a patient’s ribs and right into their lungs if they have fluid built up in there. That is so fun to do. You should try it some time.” He patted me on the back and laughed. I got the sense that the ER needed more doctors, because he was pitching the job as the best thing since sliced bread.  “I love this, too. We rarely have to use this, but it’s a separator to open a patient’s sternum, or breastbone. Of course, you need to use the buzz saw on them first. And only in the rarest of emergencies if you have to massage their very heart back to life!”

I held the instruments in my hand, including the saw. “Wow. You really do this? I mean, to other human beings?”

He laughed a rich, deep throated laugh that was very much like my real dads laugh. “Yes, I do. And it is so much fun.” He shook his head as though he couldn’t believe it himself. “You know, you could be a doctor, Jess. There is nothing holding you back.”

I gave him a confused and disgusted look. He really had no idea just how underprivileged I was.

He led me down a sloping hallway into the MRI room. Before we went in, he asked me if I had any metal on me. “Jess, be sure you don’t have any more metal studs anywhere I can’t see, because this machine works by using a big, no, a humongous magnet, and it’ll pull them right out of wherever  you have them hidden.”

I assured him I had none, and we entered an eerily quiet room with a low grade hum. There was a monstrosity of a machine in the center of the room with a place inside of it for the patient to lay flat surrounded by its vastness. So maybe hospitals are a little creepy.

Dr. Tom’s pager went off, so he went to a house phone on the wall to answer it. With him otherwise distracted, I took that moment to run down the hall to do a science experiment.  I ran back to the trauma room and grabbed one of the large green metal oxygen bottles. I wanted to see just how big this magnet was. Frankly, I doubted it could pull a tiny earring off of my body, but if it was really so awesome, let’s see what it could do with a giant piece of metal.

As I opened the door to the MRI room, Dr. Tom had just finished his call and was on his way out. His eyes were as large as marbles when he saw me with the tank. In the next second, everything happened so quickly that whatever he was going to yell never made it out of his mouth. I felt an astronomical pull rip the oxygen from my arms and it flew right at Dr. Tom smacking him in the chest with a loud thud and knocking him down. Then the tank crashed with a loud bang into the machine. It sounded like a bomb and made my ears ring. The collision must have cracked the tank, because there was a small explosion. I stood paralyzed for several seconds with my chin practically touching the scrubbed floor.

Dr. Tom tried to sit up, but was clutching his ribs and his head which must have hit the floor pretty hard. I breathed a soft sigh of relief that he was alive, at least. He looked straight at me through the cloud of smoke, and I could tell he was going to yell. I turned and took off for the exit, yelling back, “You were right, Doc. That is a big magnet.”

I ran out through the sliding glass doors and felt a blast of warm air hit my face. The sparkly, new ambulance was sitting in front of the entrance. A quick glance to my left verified that Daisy the Deranged was too busy smoking and chatting up the EMTs to notice me. As luck would have it, the ambulance was unlocked, so I snuck in the passengers’ side and climbed through to the driver’s seat. The keys were in the ignition! I guess when those paramedics are called, they want to get on the road quickly. Turning the key in the ignition, I started that boat right up and peeled out of the parking lot. I thought I was going to get caught when I accidently sideswiped a Mercedes, but my new wheels just kept going. In the rear-view mirror, I could see the EMTs and my foster mom running after me, but I knew they couldn’t catch me. I turned onto the highway right outside the hospital and settled in for a long drive. I didn’t know exactly where I was going to end up, but what I did know for sure, was that my road trip would lead me straight to Foster Family number 10. OH, JOY!