The chin screen was removed; the top part of the fresh bottom sheet was whisked into place by two nurses while a third lifted Miss Smith’s shoulders. Two nurses left the room, carrying a hamper between them. “There,” said Dr. Garcia. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
“Not at all. I feel grand.” She wiggled her toes, opened and closed her thighs. “Grand! Now I’m me all over—free! Doctor? Since I’m no longer wired for sight and sound, not to mention plumbing, do we need this fancy hospital bed? I would stop feeling like an invalid sooner if I had my own bed.”
“Mmm…must you rush it? This bed is the right height for nurses to work on you—back rubs and such—and it has side rails which can be raised when you sleep. Miss Smith, every nurse’s nightmare is the thought of a patient falling out of bed.”
“Well! What do you think I am? A baby?”
“Yes, Miss, that’s what I think you are. A baby getting acquainted with its body. Babies can fall. But I don’t intend to let you fall. Either out of bed, or in learning to walk. Or in taking a tub bath, which you will be demanding almost at once.”
(Play it cool, Boss!) “Doctor, I will follow your orders. But my own bed has its points. It will contour, just touch a button. And it has hydraulic lift Raises as high as this one or higher-but will also lower till it’s hardly more than a mattress on the floor, ten inches high. Will this one do that?”
“Mmm…no.”
“I did fall out of bed, ten years back. It shook me up so, that I ordered this special bed. Back when I was still walking I used to raise it to the easiest height—about at my hips—to get into it. Then lower it all the way down to sleep.”
“Mmm. . . maybe we can make a deal. Will you promise me always to lower the bed once you get into it? Even if you don’t intend to sleep.”
She smiled. “Signed and witnessed and with posted performance bond.”
“I don’t think we need to go that far. Miss Smith, we no longer need to monitor you the forty-’leven ways we’ve been doing. But I want a continuous check on heart action and respiration until you are living a normal life. That’s the main reason I need this life-support bed. But if you will let me fasten to your skin, anywhere on your ribs, a little pickup-transmitter weighing a half ounce and no bigger than an alloy dollar, we don’t need this fancy bed. It’s comfortable, you’ll forget it’s on you. You can bathe with it in place—waterproof and sticks like a poor relation.”
She smiled. “Start sticking!”
“I’ll fetch it. And have the nurses swap beds.”
“Oh, the nurses can’t move my bed. It takes big huskies and a power dolly. Tell Cunningham. But no rush. Speaking of nurses—Winnie, don’t you need to wash your hands or something? I want to talk to my doctor.”
The redhead smiled at her. “Dear, I’ve heard everything. Don’t mind me.”
“Look, Winnie, you did a lovely job on my face when I did not know how. But that’s the point, dear. Outside I’m a woman. But up here back of my eyes is still a crabby old man who is far too shy—chicken, I mean—too chicken to discuss intimate matters with a pretty girl present And I
must.”
“Miss Gersten, go to the watch station and take a break. I’ll call you.”
“Yes, Doctor.”
One she was gone Johann said, “You’re durn sure all the mikes are dead?”
“We’re private, Miss Smith.”
“Call me ‘Johann,’ Doc; this has got to be a man-to-man—and embarrasses me even discussing it with a man. All right, first question: Did I come sick—menstruate—in the last few days?”
Garcia looked surprised. “You twigged? Yes, you are just over your period; we removed a tampon while we were working on you and it was not necessary to replace it. But where did I miss? I thought I had anticipated it and bad bolshoi painkiller in you in time. You felt cramps?”
“Not a twinge. But things didn’t feel right…and that’s when I started getting suspicious about my sex.” She looked thoughtful. “Perhaps it was the tampons—I felt something odd down there—and now the feeling is no longer there.”