how to dance the fandango with two good hips.
Renie emerged from the bathroom, a big grin on her
face. “That must be the original toilet,” she said, moving cautiously toward her bed. “It’s the old- fashioned
chain type. It’s so high off the floor that my feet didn’t
touch. By the way, we’re sharing.”
“We are?” Judith said. “With whom? Robbie the
Robot?”
Renie shook her head. “No, Robbie the Pro Quarterback. There’s a door on the other side. I could hear him
talking on the phone. He was thanking somebody
named Taylor for something or other. No doubt some
special treatment he’s getting that we are not.”
“Bob Randall’s famous,” Judith said. “He’s used to
five-star treatment. We are not famous, thus we are not
entitled to special treatment.”
“Doesn’t infamous count?” Renie retorted. “I’m
working on that one.”
Judith sighed. “So you are. And with great success,
I might add.”
Dr. Alfonso arrived on his rounds shortly before ten
SUTURE SELF
51
o’clock. He was full of encouragement for Judith,
though she remained skeptical. With the help of a willowy redheaded nurse named Appleby, he managed to
get Judith into a sitting position. She confessed she felt
dizzy, almost nauseous, and had to put her head down.
The faded linoleum floor swam before her eyes.
“Perfectly normal,” Dr. Alfonso assured her. “By tomorrow, you’ll hardly feel dizzy at all.”
After the surgeon had gone, Corinne Appleby informed Judith that they’d have her on her feet by late
afternoon. “You’ll be surprised,” the nurse said, a tired
smile on her long, freckled face. Like Heather Chinn,
Nurse Appleby wore a crisply starched white uniform,
spotless white rubber-soled shoes, and a perky cap
with a single black band. “You may feel weak now,”
Corinne went on, “but little by little, you’ll get your
strength back.”
“I hope so,” Judith said, trying to block out Renie’s
latest complaints to an orderly who was attempting to
straighten her bed and apparently had attempted to molest Archie the doll. Maybe it was a good thing that her
cousin would go home first. When Renie was in a
drawn-out bad mood, she could be nerve-racking.
“Did you bring a book?” Judith asked after the orderly had managed to flee.
“Yes, but it sucks scissors,” Renie declared. “I
started it last night, somewhere between the vital signs
and the nurses’ argument over who ate the last package
of M&M’s.”
“Oh.” Judith glanced at the paperback on her bedside stand. “I couldn’t even try to read last night, but
maybe I will now. Unless you want to watch TV.”
