Semi-Private Room/Take That White Girl
A
semi private room is not private at all.
It’s a room with a curtain that separates you from your roommate. My roommate in the South wing of the 8th
floor – neurology - was Jamie Lee. An
elderly woman who did not – or could not - talk. I do not know what was wrong with her, but I
imagine it wasn’t much fun.
During my hospital stay, if I had to get up to say, go
to the bathroom (and really that was the only reason I ever left my bed), I had
to call for a nurse to help me. I’m
pretty sure Jamie Lee wore a diaper, but she was in the same situation as
me. If she wanted to get up, she had to
call a nurse. Only Jamie Lee didn’t talk
so how was Jamie Lee to call for a nurse?
I learned the first night that Jamie Lee called for a nurse by simply
getting out of bed and setting off her bed alarm – which was a terribly loud
beeping sound. Sometimes they came right
away to tend to Jamie Lee and sometimes they didn’t.
On the day after my surgery – when I was a total mess
– I puked on a nurse and I felt terrible about it. I think Jamie Lee secretly
thought I was trying to one up her so that night when she got out of bed and
set off her alarm, before the nurses came in, Jamie Lee started to pee… on the
floor… right were she stood. One point
Jamie Lee.
Jamie Lee got up and set off her bed alarm at least
once every night during my stay. I, of
course, would wake up when this happened.
Because it was a semi private room and I was still somewhat blind, I
couldn’t see what was going on – nor did I really want to. I could only imagine what Jamie Lee was
doing. Actually, a few times I was
convinced she was coming over to my side of the room where she would clench my
gown in her fists and whisper sternly in my ear, “Get me the hell out of
here!” Or maybe she would try and
smoother me with a hositpa; grade pillow – really, it could’ve gone either way.
I was also convinced that Jamie Lee was not as out of
it as everyone thought she was. I
imagined she was in there laughing at all these young folks yelling at
her to get back in bed and asking if she can hear them. Peeing on the floor, Jamie Lee was
thinking, “Take that, white girl.” I
also believed that Jamie Lee could talk, she just chose not to talk.
Most importantly I imagined Jamie Lee planning a great
escape. One of the nights Jamie Lee got
up and set off the alarm it took a while for the nurses to come in and get her
back to bed. I thought, “Jamie, you old
bat, you did it, you got them at the right time! Make a run for it, Jamie!” I imagined Jamie Lee getting to the elevator
and out the front door, her diapered ass hanging out for all to see. Maybe she would make it all the way to the
road before someone got her. Maybe
not. Either way, she gave it a go. You go Jamie Lee, I thought, you go.
I didn’t see Jamie Lee the day I left the
hospital. I am not sure where she is
now. But I'd like to think she is waking someone up
every night while trying to either attack or make a run for it or just pee on
the floor to get back at a nurse who talked to her wrong. As much as I believed Jamie Lee was still in
her head somewhere, I believe Jamie Lee is still out there now – laughing at
all us white girls.





Dude. Her name was Jimmy Lee. I don't expect you to remember that, though, considering all that morphine you had pumping through your veins like a never faucet of happiness. Lucky.
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All I know is a lot of people yelled her name quite often and she had had enough of it!
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