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Inability to Urinate, Rapid Heart Beat

Dawn DeBraal

    Ace caught himself, taking his pulse. The new medication his doctor put him on came with a host of possible side-effects. Inability to urinate, flushing of the skin, rapid heartbeat, and a plethora of her possible symptoms. He’d only been taking this new med for two days, already had every side effect they mentioned on television, and then some. He wished he hadn’t watched the ads. It seemed they subliminally forced him into a predetermined illness. If the side effects were worse than the ailment, why was he taking the medication?
    His neighbor Vanna was afflicted with black tarry stools and dry eyes as a result of her medications. They spoke at length yesterday while getting their mail in the dayroom. Ace wondered how she could have both, so did Vanna. It was a mystery. But it was something they could converse about. There wasn’t much intermingling here, at the home.
    Discussing medication side effects was the main topic at the Grandview Senior Living for the Afflicted. Yes, Ace made up the last part, it was just called Grandview Senior Living, but lately, it seemed everyone was taking something for some terminal condition and nothing new happened around here.
    Grandview was known to be an upscale home for the aged, cheap furniture and plenty of plants that supplied oxygen for those oxygen-deprived folks. It looked great to those on the outside not forced to live here. Ace’s daughter insisted he be in a safe place. He just wanted someone to cook his meals and clean his house. Grandview was expensive but the food wasn’t half bad. They kept a temperature controlled seventy-five degrees year-round. It was funny how seventy-five felt hot in the summer and cold in the winter. Now that Ace’s thermostat was screwed up, they even had medication for that. Thyroid problems. When you get older, you want to keep your room temperature the same as your age.
    Poker night on Tuesdays at Grandview consisted of throwing your medications into a pile like chips. This was done after most of the day shift went home. The people who cared about their jobs. The night shifters begrudgingly filed in, and were there to make a phone call if you fell on the floor or something. They were there because they got an extra fifty cents an hour. There were some good people, he was grateful that they recognized this group who didn’t need assistance twenty-four hours a day, and would allow the residents to have fun. They opened the day room and left the poker players to themselves.
    “I give two high blood pressures and a thyroid pill for two cards.” Ace chimed in.
    “I match you. Only I got me a special blue pill and raise you.” Howard Fenrow said as he sucked on his teeth. Ace glared at him. Why Howard’s doctor would think that
Howard
needed those blue pills was beyond him. He was eighty for crying out loud and living single in a Senior Home. What could that doctor be thinking?
    Secretly everyone upped their anti. They all wanted that pill. You never know when the right woman would walk through that door who would make you want to chance taxing the old bum ticker. What a way to die. Ace smiled at the thought of it.
    “May I sit in?” Bertha Madigan. She was numbness and tingling in her hands and feet. She couldn’t be trusted with dealing the cards. Sometimes she dropped the whole deck. Ace said no, but Howard and the other guys said sure. She dumped her pills in a little dish next to her.
    “Where are we?” The guys caught her up to speed. Howard dealt the cards. The stakes were high. The pile of pills was growing in the center. Ace looked longingly at the blue pill and then at Bertha, who he realized suddenly wasn’t a bad looker, no not a bad looker at all. With some hesitation, he threw the tablet into the center-a high price to call Bertha’s bluff. Bertha looked up briefly and chuckled.
    It was down to Ace and Bertha; the rest of them had folded. The stakes were too high. Bertha had an impenetrable poker face, and Ace couldn’t read her at all. She had matched his bids pill for pill. He looked for a crack in her façade, something that would give her away. Was she bluffing, or was she holding? How many more raises could Ace take and feign dropping his medications down the sink by accident again to get his refills?
    They faced off. Ace’s hands shaking, (a side effect of his medications,) Bertha didn’t ask for any more cards, her mouth twitched (also from her meds.) Was it a smile? Had she beaten him? She fumbled with the pills in her cup. And then all the cards dropped on the table showing what she had. It was the end of the game.
    “Bertha,” the men shouted, but she had beaten Ace. Three queens to his pair of aces. Everyone groaned and pushed away from the table. Bertha picked up the medications, sweeping them into her cup.
    “I can’t believe you showed your hand!” Howard said disgustedly.
    “I can’t help that I dropped my cards. It’s the side effect of the medications I take.” Bertha said defensively.
    Ace didn’t say a word. He just stared at the cards on the table. She had been holding. Bertha apologized and picked the blue pill out of her cup. She placed it in his hand when no one was looking.
    “What’s that for?” He growled.
    “Meet me tonight. After rounds. I’ll see you at seven-forty-five.” Bertha winked. Ace quickly picked up the evidence rolling the pill around in his hand. Should he meet her at seven-forty-five? Well, a bet’s a bet. She won fair and square. He stood and walked toward his room.
    “Ace. Where are you going?” Howard shouted after him.
    “I’m going to take a nap.” Ace answered with a smile on his face and a new giddy up in his walk. Howard shook his head, watching his friend walk away.
    “It must be a side effect of the new medication he’s on,” Howard mumbled to himself as he dealt the next hand.

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