CHAPTER 9
Kenneth
I saw her again this morning and it looked like she'd seen me. I don't understand it at all, but it has me curious why she can see my reflections sometimes and how she had heard me tell her goodnight. I rode the elevator with her up to the third floor, then reluctantly I stepped out and watched her walk down the hall and disappear into the double doors that lead to the children's wing.
As much as I'd like to learn a little more about her, I need to figure out how I can help Mateo. His room is dark again when I enter it and he is sleeping, his leg still propped up outside the covers. His eyes look sunken in and big, dark bags show just how much sleep he hasn't been getting. I read the white board and see he's on a heavy dose of pain medication in addition to his antibiotics. I hate that he is here alone when I know that he'd be doing much better if he were with our other brothers. It breaks my heart to know the group is scattered now and I hope it has nothing to do with my death.
I take a seat in the chair beside him and watch his monitors for a while. I can't think of anything I could do that would make this better for him. I struggle to understand what I'm doing in this middle space and what my purpose might be. Maybe it has nothing to do with Mateo. Maybe one of the other guys is in worse shape than him. I sit for a few hours in his room, not sure what I should do next.
Just after lunch a doctor comes in. Mateo has been awake for a half hour, doing everything he can not to look at his wounded leg. It's like he's afraid if he looks at it it will grow into a monster and attack him. I on the other hand can't take my eyes off of it. I've studied each dip and pucker in the pink flesh, hating that he has been marked with the spoils of war so early in his career as a Marine. He will be discharged from the Corps if he hasn't been already.
The doctor looks at his chart and Mateo watches him carefully as he makes a few notes. "You no longer have a fever and we have your pain under control the best we can." His voice is monotone and yet I get the feeling his words are bitter on his tongue. Mateo just listens and I turn my face so I can see his reaction to the doctor's statement. There is nothing in Mateo's expression that speaks of his pain being managed. He's still sweating and gripping the sheets beneath his beaten body. It makes me angry that he isn't being helped as much as he should be.
"What happens now?" Mateo asks, his voice rough with pain.
"The VA is going to want you discharged. They won't cover any more nights here. I appreciate what you did for this country, son. I'll make sure you have what you need when you leave here." What? Is he fucking kidding? Discharged when he's still clearly in pain?
"Thank you, doctor. I appreciate that."
The doctor doesn't respond, just nods his head and heads out of the room to start the discharge paperwork. Mateo sits up and starts gathering his belongings. I'm so pissed I want to scream, but it won't do me any good. I have to watch him limp around, changing out of his hospital gown and into his street clothes. What used to take him only five minutes takes forty-five and by the time he's done, his shirt is wet with sweat and his leg is shaking.
A nurse comes in with a few sheets of paper and goes over the instructions of how to care for the wound and what to do if the fever comes back. Mateo listens, but I can see the sweat beading up on his brow and the way he keeps breathing deeply like he's trying to overcome the pain. In the end, she gives him two prescriptions to take home. One is for antibiotics and the other is for heavy duty pain medication. She leaves the room and Mateo stays sitting in the chair, staring down at the papers in his hand.
If only the guys knew this was happening, they could fight for him. He needs someone to do what he is too weak to do himself right now. I know he doesn't have anyone at home to help him—shit I'm not even sure he has someone to pick him up from this place. He closes his eyes for a minute, then opens them and stares up at the sky. "If this is not going to get any better then just let me die." His voice is just a whisper as he converses with God or whoever his higher power is. I get what he's saying, I would feel the same way if I was in his shoes. But I refuse to let that war take the life away from any more of us. I'll figure out something to help him.
Mateo folds his prescriptions and tucks them into his pocket. He pushes off the chair and limps slowly to his walker. He stands behind it for a moment, shifting his weight off of his injured leg. His arms are shaking as he tries to turn around in the small space at the end of his bed. I've never seen anything as shameful as this. This man that was willing to die for his country is being kicked out of the hospital because his care is costing more than our government will allow. I hate it more than I've ever hated anything.
With slow and shallow movements, he inches his way towards the door. I stand and walk beside him, watching my hero fight a relentless enemy just as we had been trained to do. Only I would have never guessed that the VA would rise up to work against him by being negligent with his care and denying him the necessary treatment he needs. The enemy isn't always on the other side of some arbitrary border, sometimes it's where you would never expect it. Sometimes it's the crippling wound you're helpless to heal, and sometimes it's within the vary walls that were built to protect you.
***There are many wonderful people that work at the VA. Unfortunately, there is also a lot of red tape and mismanagement there as well. This is a work of fiction, but I hope it helps bring awareness to the growing problem may US veterans are facing.
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