Rebecca (part 3)
Part 1
Part 2
Of course, her life became precisely what she had wanted. And her expectations were more than met. She had thought that her life before her wedding had been the epitome of ease and luxury, but compared to being Mrs Peter Taylor? She had known nothing.
A thought barely had to cross her mind before one of her assistants was fulfilling the desire that hadn’t even formed enough to be a want, never mind an instruction. A maid in the morning to dress her, someone always on hand to ensure her hair and makeup was perfect, a masseuse available at a moment’s notice.
And when she left the house! Managers of the finest boutiques greeting her at the door, delighted to serve her, to personally bring her a glass of champagne and some nibbles! It was lovely enough that Rebecca forgave Hermes for the time one of their sales associates in London rolled her eyes at her.
It was all delightful. It was exactly what she had wanted.
Of course she barely saw Peter, but that was to be expected. He was a busy man, an important man. He would tell her where she needed to be to support him, which networking events would best suit him to be a happily married man with a beautiful wife at. So it was to be expected that most of their communication was via his personal assistants. Even on their brief honeymoon on that tiny paradise island she only really had his full attention when she was naked, or about to be.
And she was glad that she could satisfy him with that. And she did enjoy that look he would get in his eyes just before he would instruct her to disrobe, the way he would watch her intently as she did as she was told, the way he would sometimes get inpatient and simply do it himself with brusque hands. It reminded her of the way…of something that she did not think about.
Except those times that the sensations were too strong, too similar… The way Peter would palm her breast and roll her nipple between his thumb and forefinger always always made her flash back to the very first time he did it. But she didn’t think about that. Did not think about what they had said in the clinic in Switzerland about seeing her again for her treatments. Didn’t think about it. Life was too lovely.
So seven months after the wedding, on what was going to be a normal day for her in London, when her assistant informed her that her husband had instructed that she fly to Zurich that very same day, Rebecca felt like her heart stopped.
“Did he say why?” Rebecca asked her. There were obviously plenty of other reasons he might want her in Zurich. Wasn’t there an IMF conference or something?
“He did not, I’m afraid,’ her assistant said with an apologetic smile.”No other instructions at all. The car is already waiting for you. The jet will be ready when we get there.”
Rebecca felt her mouth go dry, and her legs just slightly unsteady. But she would not - must not - betray anything like that.
“Very well. I will just - ‘
Another assistant, silent and smiling, was already at her side with the cashmere hoodie she frequently wore and a little black flap bag that complimented her black linen romper.
“Everything is ready for you, Mrs Taylor,” she said.
Rebecca did not really have a choice but to leave that very moment. To object - even though she was perfectly entitled to do things at her own convenience, in her own time - might look odd. She had never failed to respond instantly to her husband’s wishes in time they had been married. She must not start now. And anyway, Switzerland was just Switzerland.
She tried to smile normally, be the gracious lady as was expected of her. “Wonderful, thank you.”
She did not think about the way that the leather of the car felt exactly like the leather on the surgical bed in the clinic. Did not think about the way Zurich looked exactly the same in the midday sunlight as the day she had last left the city. Did not think about the driver declining to tell her where he was driving her; taking her not to the apartment she knew Peter had in the city, but instead taking the route out of the city and into the same valley, the same slopes.
She didn’t think about any of it until she felt the same twists and bends and the clinic coming into sight. The perfect manicured stone and steam melding beautifully into the wilder environs.
Rebecca felt slightly lightheaded, her sight slightly dark around the peripheries. She was distantly aware of her heart racing in her chest and a tremor in her hands.
The nurse - Serena - was waiting to greet her, just like last time. With a wheelchair. Just like last time.
Rebecca managed to stand up out of the car with the proffered hand of her driver. She would not would not show that this place had any sort of effect on her.
“It is wonderful to see you again, Mrs Taylor,” Serena was saying. “I hope your journey from London was peaceful?”
Rebecca managed to nod. There was tingling in her fingertips and on her lips, she didn’t trust herself to speak.
“You do look rather pale, Mrs Taylor,” Serena was saying, stepping closer to her with that same professional smile. One of her colleagues was maneuvering the wheelchair behind her. “Are you a little dizzy with the elevation? Why don’t you sit down.”
The nurse behind her put her hands on Rebecca’s shoulders and guided her down onto the wheelchair. It was more of an undignified slump because her legs would simply not obey.
“Let us get you inside and get you feeling better, Mrs Taylor,’ Serena was saying from what felt like a very long way away. The wheelchair started moving over the flagstones and every tiny little jolt made Rebecca feel worse.
The same blonde wood, the same reception desk - a nurse behind it today.
But they turned the opposite way from last time.
“Mrs Taylor is not feeling quite well,’ Serena was saying to the nurse behind the desk. If you could inform the doctor and then come and lend a hand in the assessment room”
The same keycard controlled doors and the same high windows… Rebecca’s whole body felt completely disconnected from her and from reality.
And then a room with a hospital bed and hands lifting her off the wheelchair, taking all her weight because she could not do it herself. She found herself lying flat on blissfully cool cotton and some of the colours returned to her vision.
Serena above her, an oxygen mask in her hand, clear tubing snaking onto the wall.
“Not to worry, Mrs Taylor,” Serena said, “The elevation and some dehydration from the journey has probably made you feel a little faint. We will soon have you feeling better.”
She placed the oxygen mask over her nose and mouth, gently lifting Rebecca’s head off the pillow to slip the elastic over her hair. Then she felt the hiss of dry oxygen on her face.
“If we could remove her clothes, please,” Serena said to her colleagues, ‘and get the monitors attached. IV access, please - you might as well take those bloods samples the Dr Smith has requested at the same time. And a finger prick for blood glucose please.” Her voice was commanding.
Rebecca felt cold metal on the skin of her thighs as shears cut into her shorts, and all the way up to the top of her romper. The straps were cut away completely and the fabric fell to the side, leaving her completely bare on the bed.
Nurses on either side of her, one making a tourniquet with her hands around her upper arm while another pushed a cannula into a vein with a nip. And on the other side a sharp stab on her thumb as a nurse milked a tiny spot of blood onto a testing strip. A nurse leaning over her naked body, sticking electrodes and wires onto her chest - the rapid fire chirps of her heartbeat on the monitor filled the room, higher pitched than Rebecca had heard them last time. A cuff around her upper arm, a clip on her finger and other high-pitched beep from the monitor.
Her vision was coming back, the tingles retreating from her face and her hands.
“Ah Mrs Taylor, very happy to see you again. Very sorry you aren’t feeling well.’’
Dr Smith. Rebecca felt herself tense. The chirp of her heartbeat increased even more.
“She looked rather pale on getting out of the car, Dr Smith,’ Serena was saying. “Looked a little vagal. Heart rate was 137 and BP 92 over 60. Sats 92. Blood glucose was normal.”
“Yes, almost certainly the elevation and perhaps some dehydration,” Dr Smith replied.
He peered down at her. ‘Did you have breakfast in London, Rebecca? Drink anything during your journey here?”
“No,’ she whispered behind the mask.
“Ah that was a bit silly, wasn’t it. We will soon have you feeling better,” He turned away from her to Serena. “Give her a two litres of saline stat and I suppose we can wean her off the oxygen. If we could just check a twelve lead ECG? A beta HCG? And give her a light lunch when she feels able.”
A nurse was already wheeling a drip stand with a clear back of fluid over to her, connecting it to the cannula in her arm with brisk efficiency. Another placing different electrodes over her chest - near her shoulders again, but beside her breastbone and around her ribcage and on the bony inner prominences of her ankles.
She was feeling normal enough to recognise the predicament she was in - bare on a hospital bed, wires and electrodes and monitors again. She didn’t want this!
She struggled to get her limbs back under her control, tried to sit up, tried to move at all… but the same nurses were quick to have a strong grip of her wrists and ankles, so fast to hold her shoulders onto the bed.
“Rebecca,” Dr Smith said, towering over her. “You must have surmised that the same limitations apply to you during this admission as your previous admission. Your husband has consented to your treatment. You are not able to object to your course of treatment here. That includes any emergency treatment we administer in your best interests. Do you understand that?”
Rebecca managed to nod.
“Good. Now, are you going to comply and be still, or do we need to restrain you?’
“I will be still.” The nurses removed their grips from her legs and her arms.
“Good girl. We will talk again when you are feeling better.” One of the nurses handed him a pink sheet of paper with what looked like her heart tracing on it.’
“Very good, I will see you again shortly, Rebecca.”
He left, and the room was silent aside from the movements of the nurses around her bed, the beep of her monitors, slowing and slowing and becoming less high pitched. Slowly the spots in her vision went away, the numbness in her extremities settled.
A warmed blanket was placed over her and Rebecca felt pathetically grateful for it.
At intervals, Serena stood beside her head and turned something on the wall. Perhaps the oxygen feeding into her mask? After…after Rebecca did not know how long, Serena took the mask off her face. It was a relief to feel normal air after the dryness of the gas. It was a relief to sit back up. Serena removed the cannula from her arm, took off the electrodes on her chest that weren’t connecting her to the monitor.
They brought her lunch, gazpacho and some bread, some greek yoghurt and fruit. They finally put her in a gown and assisted her to the toilet on shaking legs… she had forgotten about the rules of continuous observation here. She had forgotten that…
When Dr Smith returned, she was feeling better. Better enough to feel the terror. Better enough to acknowledge that she was completely at the mercy of this institution. Better enough to feel that tiny flicker of excitement deep inside. He pulled a chair over from the corner of the room to sit beside her. She couldn’t take her eyes off him.
“You’re feeling better. Wonderful. You’ll be glad to know that all your investigations have come back completely normal. It was really very unwise to allow yourself to become dehydrated like that, Rebecca, but we will rehydrate you with further intravenous fluids overnight and can still begin your treatments in the morning.”
Rebecca did not dare ask. Would that be insufficiently compliant?
Dr Smith could read her expression on her face nonetheless.
“Yes I am sure you are curious. I am not able to share the details of the entire treatment plan. Parts are very dependent on you being unaware of what is happening. But other aspects? One aim is to maximise your fertility. You are aware that a priority of your husband is to have children and we are going to facilitate that during your admission.”
But she thought that she had more time… she knew her role. Knew going into this marriage what was expected but… it was so soon. It was so soon.
Dr Smith smiled at her and stood.. “We are going to take very good care of you during your time here, Rebecca. Your admission on this occasion will be significantly longer than your last so we are going to get to know you very well indeed.”
He lifted the chair back to the corner of the room as Serena came in with a wheelchair, a pair of nurses at her back.
“She is well enough to move to her room now, Nurse. After her ablutions, restraints in bed, I think. Keep her monitored overnight, another couple of bags of fluid, but I am sure we will be moving forward as intended in the morning.”
“Yes of course,’ Serena replied, smiling at him as he left the room.
“Now Rebecca, how do you feel about getting off the bed and into this chair?” Her colleagues came to stand beside the bed, in a position to help her stand.
Rebecca nodded at Serena, but didn’t want to move on her own accord. Didn’t dare seem noncompliant.
One of the nurses beside her lifted Rebecca’s legs off the bed, as the other lifted her shoulders and turned her so her feet dangled off the bed. With a tug, her feet were on the cool floor. Taking no initiative, she was turned and moved until she was sitting in the wheelchair.
“Wonderful. Now, just like last time Rebecca, we will get this day washed off you and get you to bed. Not to worry, we are going to help you more this time.” Serena wheeled her out into the corridor again. It was dark behind the windows now.
She was taken into the same wetroom as last time, the same eucalyptus fragrance, the same lovely soaps. She wasn’t permitted to wash herself, however. A nurse stood with her, held her still, as another washed and conditioned her hair, washed her all over with a soft cloth. She wasn’t permitted the time she took last time. The nurses dried and braided her hair, stood with her while she brushed her teeth. Made her slip her arms into a fresh hospital gown, the same buttons in the front.
Serena was waiting when they wheeled her into a room identical to the one of her last stay - admission. Rebecca saw that restraints were already prepared on the bed, the straps flat and inviting her wrists and ankles. Rebecca remembered what they felt like on her.. Soft, unyielding. The limits on her movements. The vulnerability of her legs being held open just a little.
“Lie on the bed please, Rebecca,” Serena said. Her colleagues helped her stand on weak legs, helped her take a couple of steps toward the bed and lifted her on and eased her horizontal. As they wrapped the cuffs around her limbs, Serena undid the front of her gown and stuck fresh electrodes onto her chest.
“Just to monitor you overnight as Dr Smith wanted.”
There was another sharp scratch on the crook of her elbow as another cannula was inserted.
“And to ensure you are well hydrated, a drip overnight.”
Serena paused and considered Rebecca. The other nurses were just restraining her ankles.
“Before you do that, perhaps it is wise if we catheterise her for the night. We are giving her quite a lot of fluid after all.” The other nurses nodded and ceased. One left the room and the other stayed where she was, resting her hand on Rebecca’s knee.
She wanted to protest, but… She kept her legs still, exactly where the nurses had left them.
“You’ve had a catheter briefly before, haven’t you, Rebecca?” Serena said, “I’m sure you found it a little uncomfortable, but it will allow us to better monitor you overnight.I’m just going to wash my hands.”
The nurse re-entered the room, pushing a shiny metal cart with sterile packs on it. Rebecca turned her head to see…could see the tubing and the bag with a plastic measuring meter. With practiced hands, the nurse started opening the packs, dropping the equipment onto a blue drape - a syringe with clear fluid in it, a long white catheter, some sterile gloves.
Serena donned the gloves like she had done it a million times, and rearranged the equipment on the drape to her liking. Moving simultaneously, the other nurses grasped Rebecca under each of her knees, flexed them and pulled her legs wide, then folded the bottom of her gown up above her bellybutton. She couldn’t stop herself whimpering as Serena sat on the edge of the bed, pulling the cart closer.
“Just take nice deep breaths Rebecca,’ she said, pushing a drape under her bottom. “Cold wipe now.”
The shock of the cold antiseptic made Rebecca gasp, but it was followed with an even colder injection of gel deep inside her and after not even nearly enough time to take a breath, the slow insertion of the catheter. The sensation of something completely alien inside her was all Rebecca could be aware of.
“There we are,’ Serena said, standing up, ‘All done.”
Simultaneously again, the nurses holding her knees extended them back to the bed, and just as they had been doing, began affixing the restraints to her ankles.
Serena removed her gloves, and washed her hands again. Watched while her colleagues covered Rebecca back up with her gown and then a blanket. Only one of them stayed in the room, taking a seat at the desk with the computer and cardiac monitor.
“Do try to sleep now,’ Serena said. “Rest is very important.”
With a final cool smile, she, too, left the room, switching off the lights as she did, leaving Rebecca in the glow of the monitor with her thoughts.
