“Was there a problem with my diabetes during surgery?”
“Not during surgery,” said Miss Stevens with a smile. “The night after. As I understand it, you gave yourself a little extra insulin.”
“I did?” said Cassi. “What day is it?”
“Five A.M., Friday morning.”
Cassi felt very confused. Somehow she’d lost an entire day.
“Where am l?” she asked. “Isn’t this the recovery room?”
“No, this is the ICU. You’re here because of your insulin reaction. Don’t you remember yesterday at all?”
“I don’t think so,” said Cassi vaguely. Somewhere in the back of her mind she began to remember a sensation of terror.
“You had your operation yesterday morning and were sent back to your room. Apparently you’d been doing fine. You don’t remember any of that?”
“No,” said Cassi without conviction. Images were beginning to emerge from the haze. She could recall the horrid sensation of being enclosed within her own world, feeling acutely vulnerable. Vulnerable and terrified. But terrified of what?
“Listen,” said Miss Stevens. “I’ll get you some milk. Then you try to go back to sleep.”
The next time Cassi looked at the clock it was after seven, Thomas was standing by the side of her bed, his blue eyes puffy and red.
“She woke up about two hours ago,” said Miss Stevens, standing on the other side. “Her blood sugar is slightly low but seems stable.”
“I’m so glad you’re better,” said Thomas, noticing Cassi had awakened.
“I’d visited you in the middle of the night, but you were not completely lucid. How do you feel?”
“Pretty good,” said Cassi. Thomas’s cologne was having a peculiar effect on her. It was as if the smell of Yves St. Laurent had been part of her devastating nightmare. Cassi knew that whenever she’d been unlucky enough to have an insulin reaction, she’d always had wild dreams. But this time she had the sensation that the nightmare wasn’t over.
Cassi’s heart beat faster, accentuating her pounding headache. She could not tell the difference between dream or reality. She was relieved a few minutes later when Thomas left, saying, “I’ve got surgery. I’ll be back as soon as I’m done.”
By noon, Cassi had been visited by Dr. Obermeyer and her internist, and released from the unit. She was taken back to her private room at the end of the corridor, but she raised such a fuss about being alone that they finally moved her to a multibed unit across from the nurse’s station. She had three roommates. Two had had multiple broken bones and were in traction; the other, a mountain of a woman, had had gallbladder surgery and was not doing too well.
Cassi had had one other insistent request. She wanted her IV out. Dr. McInery tried to reason with her, arguing that she’d just had a severe insulin reaction. He told her that had she not had the IV originally and gotten the sugar when she had, she might have slipped into irreversible coma. Cassi had listened politely but remained adamant. The IV was removed.
In the middle of the afternoon Cassi felt significantly better. Her headache had settled down to a tolerable level. She was listening to her roommates describe their ordeals when Joan Widiker walked in. “I just heard what happened,” she said with concern. “How are you?”
“I’m fine,” said Cassi, happy to see Joan.
“Thank God! Cassi, I heard that you’d given yourself an insulin overdose.”
“If I did, I can’t remember it,” said Cassi.
“You’re sure?” asked Joan. “I know you were very upset about Robert …” Her voice trailed off.
“What about Robert?” asked Cassi anxiously. Before Joan could respond, something clicked in Cassi’s mind. It was as if some missing block fell into place. Cassi remembered that Robert had died the night after his surgery.
“You don’t remember?” asked Joan.
Cassi let her body go limp, sliding down into her bed. “I remember now, Robert died.” Cassi looked up into Joan’s face, pleading that it wasn’t true, that it was part of the insulin-induced nightmare.
“Robert died,” agreed Joan solemnly. “Cassi, have you been dealing with your sorrow by trying to deny the fact?”
“I don’t think so,” said Cassi, “but I don’t know.” It seemed doubly cruel to have to learn such news twice. Could she have suppressed it or did the insulin reaction just remove it from her disturbed memory?