Tips for Living(22)

“What is bezumny, Aunt Lada?”

“A nut. A cuckoo lady. She has mice running around in her head.”

I took the movie as a sign. I was like Sybil. That cinched it. I couldn’t tell anyone. I was convinced I’d be locked away if they found out how crazy I was.



My mother took me to the doctor a week later to figure out what was causing the worrying symptoms I’d developed. But I didn’t give either of them the whole story. I guess I was too frightened . . . and confused. I was young.

I sat on the edge of the exam table in my jeans and T-shirt, hugging myself. The white paper crinkled under me as I nervously kicked my sneakers at the base.

“Stop fidgeting and sit up straight,” my mother said. She pointed to my feet. “How did your sneakers get so scuffed?”

“Where?”

“That black mark on the side. Right there.”

She frowned from her post in the white plastic chair next to the door.

“Can’t you keep anything nice for five minutes?” she scolded.

That was another reason I wasn’t entirely truthful. My mother had a lot invested in perfection. She wasn’t the easiest person to confide in when something was wrong. She had a way of making the problem your fault. I started kicking the exam table unconsciously again.

“Nora!”

She eyed me angrily. But the neurologist didn’t seem to mind my nerves. Nerves were his business. He stood at a counter studying the papers attached to my chart, obviously pleased with the results.

“I’m happy to say there’s no sign of a head injury. And Nora’s wiring looks completely normal. EEG, EKG. Her brain. Her heart. Blood work. All normal. Reflexes. Everything.”

“That’s a relief,” my mother said. “I was worried it might be a concussion.”

The doctor turned to her. She crossed her shapely legs and smoothed the skirt of her turquoise mohair suit full of little poodle-like nubs.

“And her symptoms began a week ago, you say? She fainted twice in one day?”

My mother nodded and tugged at her pearls.

“I wasn’t there the first time. She was at the movies with her father. She fainted again when they came home. At first, she seemed normal otherwise. But then I noticed she was more and more tired every day. Exhausted.”

“Any headaches?”

“No. Just tired.”

He looked at the chart again and shook his head. “Her blood work is normal.” He looked at me. “Talk to me about the blackouts, Nora. What did you feel?”

“I got dizzy. Then I fell.”

“Did you eat or drink anything before they happened?”

“No.”

“Were you hungry or thirsty?”

“No.”

“Did the movie scare you?”

“We hadn’t seen the movie yet.”

“Anything unusual you can tell me about?”

I glanced at my mother and heard my father’s voice. She’ll leave me, Nora. She’ll go. You don’t want the family to break up, do you? I promise you I’ll fix this.

“Think for a minute,” the doctor urged. “Anything at all?”

“No, I don’t remember anything special,” I told Dr. Nerves.

He kept watching me as he spoke to my mother. By then I think he’d figured out I was holding back information.

“How is Nora sleeping?”

How did he know about that? Get out of my head.

“Fine. No problems there,” she said.

“No problems,” I echoed.

Fainting twice was one thing, but these other . . . what to call them? Zombie spells?

“I’ll need you to step outside for a minute, Mrs. Glasser,” the nerve doctor said.

“Oh?” My mother looked surprised and a little put out, but she stood up and smoothed her skirt again. She fiddled with the delicate pins in her strawberry-blonde, perfect French twist.

“I’ll be out there, Nora. Right outside in the hall.”

She left and closed the door. The doctor stood next to the exam table, but behind me so I couldn’t see him. What was he up to? I wouldn’t tell him my secret, even with my mother out of earshot. I didn’t want to wind up being committed to a mental institution.

“Raise your right hand,” he said.

I put up my hand. “Is this another reflex test?”

“Quiet, please. Do as I say. Raise your right hand.”

I checked my hand. Yes, my right hand was in the air.

“Didn’t you hear me?” he asked, impatiently. “The right hand.”

My face flushed. I felt confused. I stretched my fingers. I pledge allegiance to the flag . . . Right crosses to heart on left. This was definitely my right hand. I lifted it higher.

“Are you telling me you don’t know your right from your left?”

Why are you being so mean? I’m trying.

“Dammit. Just do it, Nora. I’m waiting.”

My eyelids fluttered. The fluorescent lights dimmed. Heat blossomed in my chest and spread to my limbs. I leaned forward, almost falling off the table. The doctor’s arms caught me.

“It’s okay, Nora. It’s all right. I apologize. I had to see if I could induce a fainting spell.”

He put two fingers to the side of my neck and stroked my forehead with his other hand. How soothing his touch felt. A balm for my distraught state.