Читать книгу Hurricane Street - Ron Kovic - Страница 15

The Threats and Intimidation Continue

Several weeks later that newfound faith and strength is tested when during one of our Thursday-night gatherings, Marty Stetson tells me there’s a rumor going around the hospital that someone is planning to poison me.

“They’re going to put poison in your water pitcher when you’re away from your bed,” Marty whispers.

I take this threat seriously though try my best not to let Marty know how frightened I feel, brushing it off and telling him to “consider the threat a compliment.” And that it is clearly an indication of how effective we are becoming as an organization.

The following week someone rips the windshield wipers off my car in the SCI parking lot and a day later they flatten all my tires. I am careful not to drink from my water pitcher by my bedside anymore, choosing instead to purchase cans of Coke from the hallway vending machine. This is crazy, I remember thinking. Here I am in a hospital trying to heal, to get better, and people want to kill me!

* * *

By Memorial Day weekend 1973, my bedsore has finally healed and I am able to get into my chair again. I feel very weak and out of shape but still thrilled to be sitting up in my chair. I was trapped on the gurney for nearly ninety-three days, but finally I am free and it’s a wonderful feeling.

As time passes, I grow more and more confident, and by early June I’m finally ready to leave the hospital.

At my last meeting with the Patients’/Workers’ Rights Committee before I leave, I wish the others well, telling them how proud I am of them and all they have accomplished. I promise to stay in touch and let them know that if for any reason they need me, they can call at any time.

My plan is to head back to my hometown of Massapequa, Long Island, for some much-needed rest. The following night Joe Hayward and another member of the committee drive me to the airport to make sure I get on the plane safely.