JК
Veronika decides to die :: Coelho Paulo
Страница: 15 из 115Then the voices would lose their calm, technical tone and become tense, issuing rapid orders.
In one of her lucid moments, a nurse asked hen “Don’t you want to know how you are?”
“I already know,” replied Veronika. “And it has nothing to do with what you can see happening in my body; it’s what’s happening in my soul.”
The nurse tried to continue the conversation, but Veronika pretended to be asleep.
When Veronika opened her eyes again for the first time, she realized that she had been moved; she was in what looked like a large ward. She still had an IV drip in her arm, but all the other wires and needles had been removed.
A tall doctor, wearing the a traditional white coat, in sharp contrast to the artificial black of his dyed hair and beard, was standing at the foot of her bed. Beside him a young junior doctor holding a clipboard was taking notes.
“How long have I been here?” she asked, noticing that she spoke with some difficulty, slurring her words slightly.
“You’ve been in this ward for two weeks, after five days spent in the Intensive Care Unit,” replied the older man. “And just be grateful that you’re still here.”
The younger man seemed surprised, as if that final remark did not quite fit the facts. Veronika noticed his reaction at once, which alerted her instincts. Had she been here longer than she had thought? Was she still in some danger? She began to pay attention to each gesture, each movement the two men made; she knew it was pointless asking questions; they would never tell her the truth, but if she was clever, she could find out what was going on.
“Tell me your name, address, marital status, and date of birth,” the older man said. Veronika knew her name, her marital status, and her date of birth, but she realized that there were blanks in her memory: She couldn’t quite remember her address.
The doctor shone a light in her eyes and examined them for a long time, in silence. The young man did the same thing. They exchanged glances that meant absolutely nothing.
“Did you say to the night nurse that we couldn’t see into your soul?” asked the younger man.
Veronika couldn’t remember. She was having difficulty knowing who she was and what she was doing there.
“You have been kept in an artificially induced sleep with tranquilizers, and that might affect your memory a bit, but please try to answer all our questions.
In one of her lucid moments, a nurse asked hen “Don’t you want to know how you are?”
“I already know,” replied Veronika. “And it has nothing to do with what you can see happening in my body; it’s what’s happening in my soul.”
The nurse tried to continue the conversation, but Veronika pretended to be asleep.
When Veronika opened her eyes again for the first time, she realized that she had been moved; she was in what looked like a large ward. She still had an IV drip in her arm, but all the other wires and needles had been removed.
A tall doctor, wearing the a traditional white coat, in sharp contrast to the artificial black of his dyed hair and beard, was standing at the foot of her bed. Beside him a young junior doctor holding a clipboard was taking notes.
“How long have I been here?” she asked, noticing that she spoke with some difficulty, slurring her words slightly.
“You’ve been in this ward for two weeks, after five days spent in the Intensive Care Unit,” replied the older man. “And just be grateful that you’re still here.”
The younger man seemed surprised, as if that final remark did not quite fit the facts. Veronika noticed his reaction at once, which alerted her instincts. Had she been here longer than she had thought? Was she still in some danger? She began to pay attention to each gesture, each movement the two men made; she knew it was pointless asking questions; they would never tell her the truth, but if she was clever, she could find out what was going on.
“Tell me your name, address, marital status, and date of birth,” the older man said. Veronika knew her name, her marital status, and her date of birth, but she realized that there were blanks in her memory: She couldn’t quite remember her address.
The doctor shone a light in her eyes and examined them for a long time, in silence. The young man did the same thing. They exchanged glances that meant absolutely nothing.
“Did you say to the night nurse that we couldn’t see into your soul?” asked the younger man.
Veronika couldn’t remember. She was having difficulty knowing who she was and what she was doing there.
“You have been kept in an artificially induced sleep with tranquilizers, and that might affect your memory a bit, but please try to answer all our questions.