All My Mother's Rules

Chapter 81: Really Screwed Up

I gritted my teeth, fingernails digging into my palms as I clenched my fists. I was staring off to the left as a nurse prepared to stick a needle in my right arm for a blood draw. My wandering eyes had finally focused on one of those promotional posters on the wall talking about the importance of donating blood.

I couldn't bear to look. I had told the nurse just to stick the needle in when she was ready, without giving me any type of countdown or warning. Knowing it was coming was only going to further fray my already unraveling nerves.

Then the needle was in.

The pain of being stabbed with a needle was never as bad as the anticipation leading up to being jabbed, but that didn't mean that my arm didn't hurt, or that I wasn't going to be really sore for a couple of days.

Amanda had her arm around my back. The social worker been my chaperon as I'd been passed between what felt like a half-dozen doctors and nurses as I went through a run of different tests.

The only good thing was I hadn't been forced to even attempt to pee in a cup. I was able to turn in a pull-up that I'd wet while trying to sit still for a series of x-rays. I'd put it into an opaque bag with my patient ID on it and slid it through a discreet revolving receptacle.

I didn't envy the person whose job it was to get the urine out of the pull-up for testing.

And then the needle was finally out. It hurt about as much being removed as it did being put in.

"You'll want to stay in that chair to rest for another four or five minutes," said the nurse, who had drawn my blood. "You're not underweight, but you are smaller for your age, so the blood loss is probably going to hit you a bit harder."

Staying seated was perfectly alright with me. I had no desire to get up, not with how my feet ached from all the walking back and forth that I had been forced to do. The hospital complex was massive, and it seemed like none of the tests that I had to do were located in places that were in close proximity to her.

"You did so good," Amanda said, giving my left shoulder a squeeze. Amanda looked over at Julie. The nurse had accompanied us on the journey throughout the hospital. "That should be the last test for Sarah today, right?"

"Yep, and we've got the overnight room you requested set up for her."

"Thanks for getting that taken care of," Amanda said. "But police do need to ask Sarah some questions, and we've probably put that off too long. We'll need to get that taken care of first."

So, I wasn't going home tonight. I didn't know what I should feel about that. Everything that Jane had said to me was still sinking in. Her undisguised shock and disgust at my description of how Mom had been treating me was weighing on my mind. Had I not explained everything correctly to her, or was her response to an accurate description an indictment of my own inability to recognize that something was wrong?

But if I wasn't going home? What was going to happen to me? I couldn't live at the hospital forever.

Would I end up back home with Mom at some point? That didn't seem to be an outcome that either any of the social workers, nurses, or doctors I'd seen so far would be happy with. Not from how they'd reacted every time I'd gone over my tale of what had been occurring at home.

And it wasn't as though I had any relatives who could take me in. The prospect of foster care was also daunting, as having to let even more people become aware of my condition wasn't something I wanted to do.

But that wasn't the question I was struggling with. What was it that I wanted? I had made a decision on New Year's Eve that I had wanted diapers and had just accepted that with that desire came the need to be treated like a baby by Mom.