gao1951yuzhi

@@@@@ "Bring the friend," I said "What do you mean, Edgar?" she asked "The friend, the buddy!" I shouted"Bring over the fucking pal, you dump bitch!" My head was killing me and she was starting to cryI hated her for thatShe had no business crying, because she wasn't the one in the cage, looking at 9 everything through a red blurShe wasn't the monkey in the cageAnd then it came to me"Bring over the chum and sick down!" It was the closest my rattled, fucked-up brain could come to chair I was angry all the timeThere were two older nurses that I called Dry Fuck One and Dry Fuck Two, as if they were characters in a dirty DrThere was a candystriper I called Pilch Lozenge - I have no idea why, but that nickname also had some sort of sexual connotationWhen I grew stronger, I tried to hit peopleTwice I tried to stab Pam, and on one of those two occasions I succeeded, although only with a plastic knifeShe still needed a couple of stitches in her forearmThere were times when I had to be tied down Here is what I remember most clearly about that part of my other life: a hot afternoon toward the end of my month-long stay in an expensive convalescent home, the expensive air conditioning broken, tied down in my bed, a soap opera on the television, a thousand midnight bells ringing in my head, pain burning and stiffening my right side like a poker, my missing right arm itching, my 10 missing right fingers twitching, no more Oxycontin due for awhile (I don't know how long, because telling time is beyond me), and a nurse swims out of the red, a creature coming to look at the monkey in the cage, and the nurse says: "Are you ready to visit with your wife?" And I say: "Only if she brought a gun to shoot me with You don't think that kind of pain will pass, but it doesThen they ship you home and replace it with the agony of physical rehabilitationThe red began to drain from my visionA psychologist who specialized in hypnotherapy showed me some neat tricks for managing the phantom aches and itches in my missing armIt was Kamen who brought me Reba: one of the few things I took with me when I limped out of my other life and into the one I lived on Duma Key "This is not approved psychological therapy for anger management," DrKamen said, although I suppose he might have been lying about that to make Reba more attractiveHe told me I had to give her a hateful name, and so, although she looked like Lucy Ricardo, I named her after an aunt who used to pinch my fingers when I was small 11 if I didn't eat all my carrot