These were strange days for Netta. Her mind was filled with confusion while being confined to a hospital bed as her body healed. She never got the face-to-face confrontation with Sonya that she sought. But she was all right with that. And she never breathed a word about the phone calls to Tone either.
Netta paced in her hospital room. She was already fully dressed in some blue jeans, black heels and a red silk blouse as she waited for the necessary paperwork to sign herself out the hospital. Over the course of the last few weeks, she had grown very paranoid about being in the hospital. It was ironic, the thing that saved her life she thought might be responsible for her death. No one could tell her anything about her personal safety. She wouldn’t hear of it. She became very delusional about Black retaliating against her again. He wasn’t some figment of her imagination; he was a threat and the threat to her life was real.
Netta was deep in thought when her physician entered her room. He was a bald, older white man, dressed in a white overcoat, a pair of beige khakis and black soft bottom wing tipped shoes. He held a clipboard as he calmly strolled over to her. He had stopped making his rounds so that he could address Netta personally.
“How you doing today, Miss Jackson?” he began.
“I’m good,” she said flatly.
“It’s come to my attention that you’d like to sign yourself out of the hospital,” he said.. “Is that true?”
“Yes,” she responded. “Is that my paperwork in your hand?”
“Yes. Now hold on a minute,” he warned. “Before we get to that, I would like to have a brief conversation with you, if you don’t mind.”
There was no talking Netta out of leaving. She wasn’t waiting for a clean bill of health. Whatever the doctor had to say, no matter how serious it may be, she truly didn’t care. Her medical problems were her own to deal with.
He continued, “As you know, you’re leaving the hospital against our wishes. The injuries you sustained in the attack were quite serious. Head trauma and internal bleeding are nothing to play with. I strongly suggest that you reconsider leaving, at least for a few days, until another CAT scan of your brain can be performed. I would feel a heck of a lot better discharging you knowing that you’ve healed properly. I understand the monotony of being in the hospital is getting the best of you, but it’s for your own good.”
“Thank you for your concern, Doc. I appreciate everything that you and the medical staff have done for me. But all things being equal, I’m still signing myself out, today,” she explained.
“If you insist, Miss Jackson,” he replied, finally giving up. Regrettably, there were no friends or family in the room that the doctor could enlist to convince her to stay. “So what I have here is a form called an AMA discharge. It’s an acronym for Against Medical Advice. It’s a release form freeing the hospital and its staff from any medical complications that should arise as a result of you leaving. It basically frees us from any malpractice suit that you may bring against us. You will not be able to sue for future monetary compensation. By you signing this form, you waive all your rights. Is that clear?”
“Yes,” Netta acknowledged. “Where do I sign?”
“Please sign next to the x’s at the bottom of each form,” the physician informed her, while handing over the clipboard and a pen.
Hurriedly Netta scribbled her name on the documents and handed the clipboard back to the doctor.
“Well, Miss Jackson, it’s been a pleasure helping you on your road to recovery,” the physician said politely. “I wish you a speedy recovery and nothing but success in your future endeavors.”
“Thanks Doc,” she announced, while shaking his hand. “I appreciate all the things y’all have done for me. And y’all will forever be in my prayers.”
“Your first few days home try to take it easy. No strenuous physical activity. Try to avoid stress. And get plenty of rest and relaxation,” the physician suggested. “If I were you, I really would reconsider. However, I understand it’s not my call to make.”
Netta told him, “You’re absolutely right. It’s not your call, it’s mine.”
“I wish things could have been different,” the physician announced as he turned to exit the room.
“Me too, Doc. Me too,” she replied.
When Netta arrived at the main entrance of the hospital, she waited in the lobby for a precious few minutes, just lingering and thinking. Her thoughts turned to Tone, and the burden that he bore for her. He had paid professional movers to pack up her things and place them in storage. He had also rented a one-bedroom apartment in Randallstown for them to live in. Her living situation now was different from the one she left behind when she entered the hospital.
Quickly Netta grew tired of waiting inside the lobby. She navigated her way through the revolving doors, passing patients in wheelchairs being released to their families care. She stopped in her tracks, looking around trying to spot Tone’s Mazda MPV mini van she thought he was picking her up in. She became visibly upset when she didn’t spot it. Just then a shiny, white BMW M3 with dark tinted windows and a wide body kit came to a halt right in front of her. Slowly, the passenger window rolled down.
“Get in.” Tone smiled, trying to make a good impression on Netta.
Netta grinned as she got into the car. She was thoroughly impressed by Tone’s ride.
“When you get this?” she asked.
“A few weeks ago,” he explained. “I haven’t really driven it yet. You the only person that’s been in it
