Lilly’s dream

"Can you take her?" 

The surgical stocking on Lilly's left wrist itched. The dressing beneath pulled her skin, and she was aware of the fine hairs on her forearm being gradually extracted by the bandage's adhesive edges. Her feet tingled, and the wheelchair's metal frame felt cold, even through her flannel pyjamas. Outside, the sun shone from a blue sky, through green leaves. 

The nurse looked up, glanced over his shoulder at the orderly, then returned to his task. The orderly repeated himself, his thick, vaguely Mediterranean accent clipping the words, "Can you take her?" 

The nurse looked up from the prep cart, turning his full attention to the orderly and his young charge. "We're full up just this moment. Park her over there and we'll free up a chair in a minute." The orderly turned Lilly's chair, and gently backed her against the admissions desk. "It should be only a few minutes," he told her. He gestured toward the nurses' station. "They'll make room for you," he said, and was off. 

She'd been clenching the vinyl arms of the wheelchair since leaving her bed, two floors up. She forced herself to let go, and dropped her hands loosely in her lap. The room before her was a moving canvas of double shapes; she closed her right eye and the clinic resolved into two rows of green reclining chairs, each occupied by a person with an intravenous drip, or attended by a nurse drawing blood. One of the patients stood, pressing some gauze against the hollow of his elbow. The woman with him stretched a length of tape across the gauze, pinning it into place. In spite of being seated, Lilly felt lightheaded. She opened her recalcitrant right eye, and the conflicting images returned the world to a swimming blur. She looked at her hands, trying to force her right eye to cooperate. 

"Okay, dear," said the male nurse, and walked over to her. He took her chart from between her limp hands and leafed through it. "We'll just put you right here," he said, steering her chair towards the unoccupied recliner. He flipped the brakes on the wheelchair. "Do you need a hand getting up?" 

"I'm okay," Lilly said, and squinted to better see where she was going. She stood, momentarily surprised that she'd done so, then shifted her weight and lowered herself into the recliner. It was soft and comfortable, and still warm from the last patient. She didn't like that, and wished for the hundredth time that she was at home, away from this place. She thought of the rain from last weekend's storm running down her window as she lay in bed, trying to read through increasingly unsteady vision. Her mother had raised the window enough to let the breeze pass, but keeping out the raindrops, and Lilly could smell the cool, fresh air blowing in from the spring shower. Lilly squinted again, and made out the approaching outline of her mother. She was tanned, and thin — too thin, Lilly decided. Gaunt, she thought, for the first time, and was slightly ashamed at the idea. Her mother stopped beside the recliner, and produced from her oversize handbag a floppy shape. Lilly silently took the gingerbread man, knitted by her grandmother, and rested it on her left shoulder. Its blue button eyes stared up at the fluorescent lights overhead. 

Lilly's mother spoke while the nurse laid out his IV kit, but the words didn't fully register. After a few sentences, Lilly interrupted. "What?" The word sounded like a grunt in her ears. "I'm going down to the café," her mother said. "Do you want anything?" Lilly shook her head. "It may take me a few minutes. I need to get money for parking." Lilly nodded, and her mother was gone. 

The nurse looked up from his work. "Your mother said you got dizzy when you had your last infusion. How're you feeling now?" 

"Okay," she sighed, feeling anything but. 

"You look a little pale, I think," said the nurse. "You might be more comfortable if we put you in one of our consulting rooms. You can lie down and rest, and if you feel a little wobbly, we can look after you without worrying about you falling down and hurting something." 

Lilly closed her right eye again and looked at the nurse. "Okay," she said. Her left hand rose and pressed the knitted gingerbread man against her collarbone. "Can you walk it, or do you want me to get the chair?" Lilly stood in answer, and shuffled the five meters to the consulting room. The nurse followed her in. She stretched out on the bed without being told. The nurse reached behind her and pressed a button to elevate her into a semi-reclining position. He propped her right arm on a pillow, pushed up her sleeve, and laid an elastic tourniquet beside her elbow. He stepped outside and retrieved the shiny metal cart with the IV kit still arrayed and ready. "I just have to sort out your medicine," he told her. "Won't be a moment." 

Besides the bed and the cart, the little room contained a single chair. There were windows on two sides. The window facing into the clinic had its blinds drawn, though the door was still wide open. Opposite the door, another window looked into the trees of the hospital garden. The sunlight cast shifting shadows across the bed, and Lilly's face. She closed her eyes, and wept silently, squeezing her eyes against the tears which ran down her cheeks. The gingerbread man looked up at her blotchy face as a sob escaped her lips like a cough. She rolled onto her left shoulder, careful of the bandages on her wrist, and still keeping her right arm extended for the coming needle. She dug her chin into the hollow beneath her collarbone, and breathed deeply. Within a few moments, Lilly was asleep. 

She dreamt of clouds. 

TRACK 01 "Up, Up, Up," Givers INDEX: 00:00:00 
TRACK 02 "Deus Ibi Est," Isobel Campbell & Mark Lanegan INDEX: 04:13:09 
TRACK 03 "Little Eyes," Yo La Tengo INDEX: 07:02:30 
TRACK 04 "Burnt Popcorn," General Fuzz INDEX: 11:20:50 
TRACK 05 "Heartfelt," Figurine INDEX: 20:12:04 
TRACK 06 "Sit in the Middle of Three Galloping Dogs," A Silver Mount Zion INDEX: 25:15:32 
TRACK 07 "Love-Love," Popol Vuh INDEX: 30:47:61 
TRACK 08 "Wandering Star," Portishead INDEX: 36:04:55 
TRACK 09 "The Time We Lost Our Way," Loulou INDEX: 40:56:03 
TRACK 10 "Tears for Affairs," Camera Obscura INDEX: 45:04:34 
TRACK 11 "Clouds," The Long Winters INDEX: 49:05:74