Saving Anna Karenina
Part 24
Start with Part 1, and read a short synopsis of the original book.
“How often did you take opium in Russia?” The doctor’s black eyes did not smile. Her rigorous eye contact was impressive.
Anna felt life, like the roots of plants, growing within her nerves that had been black, rotting probably. How wonderful to be noticed and cared for, even in such a severe way.
“I took it every night, to sleep.”
“And here, how often do you take opiate pills?”
“Well, not too much. Just when I need courage, or sleep.”
“Except for yesterday,” said the doctor.
“Well, yes, of course.”
“And what was your intention yesterday? Did you want to sleep, or did you want to die?”
“I wanted to... die.”
“So would you say your main problem is addiction, or depression?”
“Well,” Anna was confused. Neither of these two concepts, nor this question, had ever crossed her mind. “I already explained my main problems to you. I’m lost here, and I’ve lost my dignity, and I must win back Alexei.”
“Alexei?”
“Vronsky,” said Anna.
“Your husband is also named Alexei, isn’t he?”
“My former husband is not someone I wish to speak of right now.”
“How did you sleep last night, with the Ambien?”
“Ambience?”
“Ambien, it’s a sleep medication, it helps you sleep.” The two women behind her, trainees obviously, nodded helpfully as if to endorse what the doctor was saying. “Did you have a good rest?”
“I saw such beautiful colors, brighter than life.”
“Good. You can take it again tonight.”
“Do you have something for the pain, or perhaps the same kind of pills I was taking at home?”
“We don’t prescribe pain meds to patients unless they need them for medical reasons.” The doctor’s phrase dipped low at the end, the way tones do when people dislike having to say no, and blame the person asking. “You’ll go through withdrawal. But there’s nothing we can do to prevent the symptoms, except monitor your blood pressure and give you blood pressure medication if it rises too high. And a tranquilizer, like Ativan. So far we haven’t needed to. Your blood pressure is normal.”
“But why do you give me the amience pill and not the one I am used to taking?”
“Opioids are used to treat pain in people with serious illnesses. Not emotional pain. We would like to give you a mood stabilizer. Have you ever taken Zyprexa?”
“Of course not! And you haven’t answered my question. Why should I be given the opportunity to hallucinate but not to feel less pain? If you’re going to give me medicine, then give me the one I’m used to. I’m paying you.”
“We can’t do that. And you’re not paying.”
“And why not?” Anna shouted.
“Because you don’t have any money. The state of New York is paying for this care.”
Anna was crying again. She was poor, too?
The doctor exchanged glances with the students. “I can see you’re having a lot of anxiety. We can give you Ativan now if you want. It will reduce your anxiety.”
There was this pill, but not that pill, and all of these names, and effects, it was madness. Her back, neck, shoulders and head hurt.
“How do you feel about that?” said the doctor.
“About what? You’ve said so many sad things.” She wiped her nose with the sleeve of the cheap disgusting pyjama that looked like jailors’ clothing.
“Anna, right now, do you want to hurt yourself?”
“I don’t want to hurt, I only want to die,” she sobbed.
“And if you were to try, have you thought about how you’d do it, here, in the ward?”
Anna hadn’t thought about it.
The doctor nodded. “Okay, well we are going to leave you now. Do get up, try and socialize a little. It will make you feel better. Also, you’ll feel better if you eat. You’re very underweight. What is your weight when things are going well?”
She couldn’t remember when things were going well.
“One of the aides is going to be checking on you every fifteen minutes tonight,” the doctor went on after a moment of staring blankly. “I’m sorry about that, but we need to make sure you’re safe. And they’re going to be taking your blood pressure every three hours, it will probably wake you up for a minute. The most important thing is that if you feel like hurting yourself, please come and tell one of the nurses. Will you promise me you’ll do that?”
“I need my clothes,” said Anna.
“We can give you your clothes. Ask one of the health aides when we’re finished. Can you promise me you’ll let someone know if you want to hurt yourself?”
“Yes! Fine! For heaven’s sake, I’m not a child.”
The three women left. As she trailed behind, one of the students turned around to look at Anna. When Anna caught her eye, the girl blushed. Anna felt good for that short moment. Like her old self.
She couldn’t accept that she was stuck in a sanatorium, wearing pyjamas. That’s what it was, a sanatorium. These people were not going to help her with Vronsky.
She noticed a photograph on the wall of some kind of body of water with a little girl standing in front of it. Anna thought she could pull it off the wall and use the glass to slit her veins. Only if this didn’t work, they would probably put her in an even worse prison. It felt most reasonable to take some pills. She had a terrible ache in her head.
She got out of bed and left the room, walking down the hall past a pale girl in a sweater of animal print who shuffled intently along a crack in the floor. A nurse greeted Anna, asking if she needed anything.
“Please, I have an ache in my head. I feel so…so…terrible,” she said, leaning against the wall and burying her head in her hands.
“How bad is the pain, on a scale of one to ten?”
Anna shifted her eyes to the nurse’s face, which stared back coolly, very accustomed to suffering and by now, obviously unmoved by it.
“Do you have opium?” said Anna.
“Opium? We don’t have no opium here. Let me look at your chart. You may need your meds. What’s your name?” she asked, walking away from Anna.
“Anna,” she whispered.
“What’s your last name?” shouted the nurse from a room off the hall. “Karena?” said the nurse.
“Yes,” said Anna, sliding down the wall to the floor. The pain was exploding her head. Nausea caused saliva to accumulate in her moth. Small sobs made their way up her chest.
“They have you down for Zyprexa and Ativan,” said the nurse.
Anna clasped the back of her head, trying to clamp down on the pain and stop it from circulating.
“Take your meds,” said the nurse, handing her a baby cup with a red and blue pill in it. “Water’s right there.” She pointed to a fountain.
“These aren’t the pills I need!” said Anna.
“What do you need?” said the nurse.
“I’m in so much pain!” Anna cried.
“You want to come back when you’ve calmed down?” said the nurse. She was not going to capitulate.
At least she could take the pills and see the colors and sleep. Anna got herself off the floor and swallowed them. She returned to her room, where she suddenly had to vomit. Clear fluid came out, burning her throat. She lay down on the cool floor of the bathroom and fell asleep.
