Self Control
Written by Emma McCoy
5 minute read
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Hey everyone! Welcome back to a fun and fictional blog series for the next chunk of time. In this series, I’ll be writing fictional short stories following various familiar characters as they try to walk along the faithful path.
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The point of these short stories is to illustrate our big idea: Jesus grows our hope through uncommon friends. But in order to get to this big idea, we first need some scaffolding. Think of these stories like handholds as we’re climbing toward our big idea. A lot of the time, stories that demonstrate an idea are more helpful than just talking about it, so that’s where the fiction comes in. And the handhold (also called an outcome, or learning target) I’m focusing on in this series is this:
We notice and name signs of hope, and learn to receive it too.
If I could put a huge neon sign around that, I would. In this season at Spring Church, we’re going to be using the language of the fruits of the Spirit (like joy, patience, and faithfulness) as we recognize these gifts in our friends. So follow along these stories as I illustrate what it might look like to notice and name these good things in our friends, and how the naming can give us hope. See if you can spot the fruit of the Spirit that comes up!
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We notice and name signs of hope, and learn to receive it too.
If I could put a huge neon sign around that, I would. In this season at Spring Church, we’re going to be using the language of the fruits of the Spirit (like joy, patience, and faithfulness) as we recognize these gifts in our friends. So follow along these stories as I illustrate what it might look like to notice and name these good things in our friends, and how the naming can give us hope. See if you can spot the fruit of the Spirit that comes up!
You can listen to this story narrated like an audiobook on your favorite podcast app!
It was Eli’s last day working at the hospital. His transfer to a high-end clinic outside the city had been approved, and it came with a significant pay bump. He would have regular hours, overtime opportunities, on-call days, and more benefits. It would allow him, his fiancee, and their seven-month old daughter to live in an actual house, in an area that had good schools.
So on his last day as a hospital nurse, Eli was pretty happy. He brought donuts in for that shift’s staff, did all his charting without complaint, and FaceTimed his daughter on his break. He was only an hour away from clocking out when his friend Rachel waved him down.
“Hey,” she said, “you have a new patient in bed five. I did the intake for you since you were busy with three.”
“Thanks,” Eli said, taking the tablet from her. “What do I have?”
“62 year old female, presenting with hip pain after falling at work. She’s got a friend with her who says that she’s had problems with this hip for a while.”
“And she doesn’t have a history to pull up?” he asked.
“Nope,” Rachel replied. “She said she’s not from around here. She also keeps asking about insurance. So be gentle.”
“I always am.”
As he approached exam bed five, he scrolled through the information Rachel had been able to get. It seemed pretty simple. An older woman had fallen, and there could be a strained muscle, broken bone, or dislocation.
– – – –
The exam table was uncomfortable, and the paper crinkled every time Nina moved. Not that she really wanted to move. Her hip throbbed with every tiny movement.
“I still think Greg is a major…jerk…for not letting you have your cane on the floor,” Candy said.
“You know,” Nina replied. “I think this whole ‘no swearing’ thing for you isn’t going to last long.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence. All I’m saying is that the whole thing is, like, super illegal. We could sue him for it, especially now because you got hurt!”
“Do I look like I can afford to sue anyone?” Nina asked. “We’re already missing half a shift for this. And for what? I hate hospitals.”
“Yeah, I bet it’s pretty tricky.” Candy brought her feet up on the chair and hugged her legs, something she did whenever she was stressed. It made her look even younger than twenty-three.
“Tricky?” Nina asked.
“Yeah,” Candy replied. “I mean, I don’t go to the same group you do, but I guess it’s hard navigating the drug aspect.”
“Yes, that,” Nina sighed. “When I finally get out of this, it’s going to be a long conversation with my group and mentor.”
“Hi, my name is Eli, and I’m going to be taking a look at you today before the doctor comes in.” A young man with black hair pulled aside the curtain. He wore blue scrubs. One thing Nina didn’t like about getting old was how young everyone else seemed to be getting. She focused on the room’s details, like Candy’s neon-pink hair, the nurse’s nametag, and the sound of his fingers on the keyboard. The pain made it a little hard to think.
“So what happened?” the nurse asked.
Nina couldn’t quite focus. How had it happened? While she tried to arrange the details in her mind, Candy spoke up.
“We were just working,” she said. “I was on cashier so I didn’t see it happen but apparently Nina was out on the floor doing restocking stuff—which she should not do without her cane but Greg is a major as—jerk—and wouldn’t let her. So then I heard she turned wrong and the leg gave out and she fell! Greg was the one who saw it—he’s our manager—and then Nina didn’t want to call an ambulance even though Greg said it was company policy to—”
“Okay,” the nurse said gently. “How about I get some history on this knee from Nina?”
Nina told him all about it, even though she was tired. She was physically tired, yes, but also mentally tired of having to relay the same story over and over to different doctors. The nurse nodded.
“Okay. Nina, have you had any trouble with balance lately? Dizziness? Headaches?”
“Maybe a little,” Nina gritted. She was starting to sweat. “I don’t know.”
“Okay. Well, I’m going to show this to the doctor, who I’m sure will be in soon to look you over and figure out what’s going on. I’ll get something for your pain, and then when the doctor—”
“No.”
– – – –
Even though Candy hadn’t been an opioid user, she’d spent enough time in the Robin Harlowe Women’s shelter and various recovery groups to know how difficult the medical system was for opioid addicts. It was a rare perk of her particular drug habit—hospitals didn’t hand out cocaine.
So she wasn’t surprised when Nina refused the nurse, even though the old woman was pale and sweating.
“Nina,” Eli said gently. “You’re in a lot of pain. There’s no honor in suffering when you don’t have to.”
“I’m an opioid addict,” Nina said. The easy way she said it made Candy proud. It made her think that maybe one day, she could get there. “Twenty years clean,” Nina continued. “So don’t give me opiods.”
Eli nodded and typed something in the tablet. “I’ll make sure to write that down. I appreciate your honesty, and I’ll make sure you’re taken care of until we solve what’s going on with your hip. Okay, I think I’ve got everything.” He stood. “I admire your self-control, Nina. The doctor will be in soon.”
He left, and the door closed. Nina gave a tired laugh. “Remember what Irene would say at the center?” she asked.
Candy did. “‘Not by my strength alone.’”
“Exactly. Remember that, Candy, next time you’re in a jam. It’s not by your strength you hold onto sobriety—it’s by Jesus, and your community, and honesty with others.”
“You know,” Candy said, “there was a time I would’ve just rolled my eyes at something like that.”
“And now?”
“And now, I at least like the boundaries that come with this whole religious-Christian thing. ‘Cause it does make a lot of life safer. Easier in some ways. Though the self-control thing is still hard.”
“You’re telling me,” Nina said, closing her eyes. Candy crossed and re-crossed her legs. Her phone was at 38%, the car she and Nina had scraped and saved for was nearly out of gas, and she hadn’t eaten in hours. But as she waited with her friend, she knew she could handle one problem at a time. One day at a time.
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About the author
Spring Church member, Emma McCoy (M.A.), has two poetry books: This Voice Has an Echo (2024) and In Case I Live Forever (2022). She’s been published in places like Across the Margin, Stirring Literary, and Thimble Mag. She reads for Chestnut Review and Whale Road Review. She’s probably working on her novel right now. Catch her on Substack: https://poetrybyemma.substack.com/