I awoke slowly and gradually my senses began to perceive the things around me. The bed I was in had a color co-ordinated comforter which matched the drapes and knick-knacks which were tastefully displayed on the walls. It was a woman's bedroom. . . a woman of taste! Beside me in the bed, Tammy lay asleep, on her stomach, with the comforter pulled up over her shoulders so that only a bit of the side of her face under her coal black hair was exposed. A ray of sunlight came through the window of the modern, log home to brighten her face. Underneath the cover her body lay completely nude . . .exposed to me. . .
My splitting headache was not from alcohol or drugs. . .or tobacco! Or even late hours for that matter! Rather it was from a recent life threatening experience with a virus that had felled me far in the back country and left me dehydrated and feverish. I did not remember being delivered to the rural clinic in Northern Idaho; nor, did I remember the efforts to bring me back to life. During the night, after I had been taken to the clinic, I awoke to a feeling of nausea and a splitting headache and found myself in hospital a bed. When Tammy came into the room I saw a 40-year old woman in hospital garb. . .totally sexless, with grey, steel rim glasses and eyes that might best be described as dull. Sick as I was, I was quick to note her condition.
It soon became apparent; however, that she was a capable nurse, anticipating my every need. Since I was the only overnight patient, she cared for me frequently. When I wanted to go to the bathroom she assisted me to the seat and allowed me to sit; then, helped me back to the bed. Caring and professional as she was, it was apparent that there was no feeling in what she did. . . .in fact, there didn't seem to be any feeling in anything she did. By morning, when she went off shift, I had looked into her eyes and observed nothing. She could have been dead and her feelings, if she had any, were carefully hidden.
During the day, I slept and began to recover from my condition. My senses had cleared and the headache had been mitigated with pain relievers. I ate a big dinner and slept well. By 11:30 p.m. I was wide awake and when Tammy came into the room I was not particularly impressed. Other women might have aroused my interest but Tammy held no interest. . . .We talked, man-to-man, so to speak. I told her about my problems on the mountain and about the messy divorce and bankruptcy that had taken me there. Long after I knew I should have shut my mouth I continued to talk. I was at the bottom of a long, downhill life and now I was at rock bottom. . . ."Shut your stupid mouth," I said silently to myself.
I felt my eyes go glassy and tried not to cry. . . ."Shoot," I said and cried anyway. It was about then that I felt a hand on mine, softly holding it and offering comfort. Damn, she was a good nurse. . . .I could swear that the was showing real feeling!
By morning, when Tammy went off shift, we had formed a bond. She listened to me and responded with reflective and directive questions that kept me talking for hours. She was good. . . . .
The next night I was waiting for her to arrive and determined that she was going to tell me a bit about herself. It might not be easy but I was sure that I could bring out her feelings and her past. Besides, there was not much else to do in this clinic. This night there were two other patients in the clinic and Tammy attended to them first before she came to me.
Tammy was born in a dirty, unheated bedroom of a Northern California commune. Her mother was a weak and easily controlled drug addict who was forced to work long hours and address the sexual needs of various male members of the commune. In return she received food, shelter and drugs to feed her habit. Tammy had been an accident. That she lived at all was not a tribute to her post natal care. . .there was none.
Growing up in the commune, she slept where she could and when she could. . . .often in the same room as her mother while her mother engaged in sexual activity. When she was old enough she went to school and had her first chance to see how other children interacted with each other. For the first time she saw love, respect, caring, and the good life. Tammy watched and learned well. Her grades were excellent and she received encouragement from her teachers. She had no friends and avoided any possibility of a relationship out of fear. . . .
Shortly after she turned sixteen, Tammy was accosted by one of the male members of the commune and raped. While her virginity was taken from her she knew that struggle would be futile so she lay quietly and cried as this man she thoroughly despised poured his semen into her. When it was over she refused his offer of drugs to calm her feelings and did what she could to keep from getting pregnant. Once a week, for the next year and a half, she submitted to the men of the commune. . .men she despised! men she hated! Then, the day after her high school graduation, she packed her extra pair of shorts and underwear, in fact all her earthly belongings, into a shopping bag and walked away from the only home she'd ever known.
Life had not been easy at first. She worked in a fast food facility, putting in as many hours as she could and saving her money. She worked at menial jobs while she learned to interact with people. She studied the people around her. Still, she avoided people and relationships and they avoided her. Her emotions remained hidden deep inside where they could not be exposed to the view of others. She learned to live totally alone. . . .not happy but most likely content with her life.
Finally, at the age of 34 she had earned a certification as a nurse practitioner and moved to northern Idaho where she might live alone and friendless without having to explain her situation to others. Financially successful and accepted into the rural community, Tammy had leisure time to look at her life and wonder what might have been. She concentrated on her work and determined to get satisfaction out of that. She had long since forgiven the men of the commune and what they had done to her. . . . .forgiven but not forgotten! Men did not figure into her life and as she neared the age when she might never bear children she began to wonder. . .she seldom masturbated, preferring to keep those sexual urges buried away from her conscious mind.
By morning of that next night in the hospital, I knew all of that. She had spent much of the night as I had the night before with me probing and her talking. We didn't know it yet but we had developed a strong bond between us. Also, on that morning, I was healthy again. . . .but not healthy enough to travel or be alone. even if I had been, I had no place to go and no money to go there with.
It was then that another staff nurse suggested that I might stay in Tammy's nursing home. . .something that was not an uncommon occurrence. Much as I might love to stay there, I had no money and could not ask for charity. "Come on out to my place and stay for a while," Tammy said. I did.
As she showed me to my room I saw only her professional manner. . .cold, distant and devoid of all feeling! Her eyes were dull and the closeness of the night before was gone. I spent the day getting back to a routine as Tammy slept. I avoided sleep so that I might return to sleeping at night. Meals were eaten while we engaged in small talk. . .. I stayed out of bed until Tammy left for work to encourage my old sleep patterns. Later, in bed, sleep did not come and I tossed and turned until early morning. At 7:30 a.m. I got up and made coffee with bacon, eggs, toast and juice in anticipation of Tammy's return from work.
