8 Million Stories: A Cure for Loneliness
I STARTED PISSING blood at 1 a.m. I had been waiting tables for 12 hours straight when I decided I had to leave the crowded bar. Clutching my stomach, I hurried 20 blocks back to my apartment where I took two Tylenol, pulled on a jumper and, shivering, climbed into bed.
I awoke three hours later and threw off my jumper, now heavy and cold with sweat. I drank the remainder of a carton of cranberry juice and tried to sleep on the bathroom floor. After an hour, I felt even worse and my illness seemed to be intensified by my loneliness. I was living on my own in Manhattan, my family was oceans away and my friends were in the middle of their Saturday night shifts. Finally, I gave in to the pain, and made my way to the emergency room.
The waiting room was filled with belligerent, bleeding drunks and strungout crack heads. I was led to a quiet cubicle, given a cup and told to wait for a doctor. On a scale of one to 10, one being mild discomfort and 10 being severe pain, where would you place yourself? Between the stomach cramps and the sensation of passing dull razor blades, I placed myself at six.The doctor would be with me soon. In the meantime, I should try to relax.
I lay down on the starched bed. Behind the partitioned curtains, I could glimpse patients surrounded by their caring relatives. A young Polish woman, with a drip taped to her hand, rested beside her boyfriend. An elderly woman in slippers sat upright talking to her son. I felt completely alone, but crying would have made the scene seem too pathetic, so I bit my lip and kneaded my abdomen.
Slowly, I became aware of a conversation occurring beside me.The screen wouldnt allow me to see the patient, but I could hear her tired voice. Her father sat at the foot of her bed, her sister at the head, while a social worker rattled through questions on a wooden clipboard.The patient was a victim of severe domestic abuse who said she had been beaten for 20 minutes. She had lost a tooth, split open her eye brow and fractured her jaw.
Twenty minutes of battery.The average boxing round is three minutes.
I listened quietly. She had been with this man for over four years; he was the father of her 2-year-old son. Hes my babys daddy, she said.The image jarred with my sense of the man.
Four years, her father began, shes been with him for four years. And I cant count the times Ive seen her with a bustup face. His voice hung thick, laden with desperation and guilt. I dont understand it. A man hitting another manI get it. Hell, I did it. But a woman, a girl, my baby I dont know whats happening in their heads. He swallowed hard. And still she goes back.
For the third time that evening, the bruised woman struggled to recall the minor argument that had triggered the beating.Was it over money? Or their son? She couldnt remember.They were arguing, And then he hit me and he kept hitting me. It was that simple.
I thought of all the times I had banged my head on cabinets and doors.The falls from bikes and trees.The times Id fought with my brother. I tried to imagine how hard someone would have to hit you to knock a tooth clean out of your head.The punch or kick that could fracture a jaw.
The social worker advised the woman to avoid this man: Hes a danger to you and your son. She promised she would, but I think we all knew she wouldnt. I felt completely alone, but crying would have made the scene seem too pathetic, so I bit my lip and kneaded my abdomen. The doctor entered my partitioned cubicle. She had a bright open face and was slightly cockeyed. She was also oblivious to the emotional turmoil on the other side of the curtain. Patting my knee, she asked what was wrong. I had almost forgotten why I was there. It hurts when I pee. She took my urine-filled cup and examined it. I had a severe UTI that had spread to my kidneys. I needed to take a course of antibiotics.
The nurse tells me that youre on a level six pain scale. I tried to backtrack. Its more discomfort. So where would you place yourself now? I thought of the 20 minutes of battery, the bloody mouth, the broken jaw, the cut eye.The feeling of hard knuckles on your forehead, lips and chin.The relentless blow after blow. I looked into the doctors good eye and said, Two.
It was 6 a.m. when I left the hospital, clear and cool. I went straight home, and, for the first time since reaching the city, was happy to find myself alone. C
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