by RJ Heaton
I nod in acknowledgment, “thank you, Dr. Mitchell.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Ben winks at me and gives me a toothy grin. “Now that you’ve had a nice long nap, you should have the energy of a twelve-year-old hyped up on an energy drink.”
“I wish. I feel like I got hit by a freight train, and for some reason … I am exhausted.”
“You kind of did get hit by a freight train … guess that part fits.” I haphazardly smile at him. I know he’s trying to make light of the situation.
“Did you go to his funeral?”
Ben nods, indicating yes. “It was a nice service. The pastor who did his eulogy made a point of remembering the good—not the bad.” He stops talking and scratches his head. “I’m going to miss fishing with him.” I know exactly how he feels. We had so many good memories with Lance. He was always there for all our family events and so much more. I lost a brother that day.
“Dad has moved some girl named Sarah in.” I don’t think Ben is real comfortable sharing this news with me. “What the hell is he thinking? You guys were so happy and …” my poor son looks up angry. Sean has not only ripped my heart out, leaving it to bleed out, but he is hurting his children as well. The evidence of heartache is written all over Ben’s face.
“Ben …”
“I’m sorry Mom. I shouldn’t be talking to you about this, yet.”
I push the button on my remote bed to raise the back, so that I am sitting all the way up. “It’s ok, Ben. Your dad is the one making these choices. All we can do now … is, move on and see what happens tomorrow.”
“I just want to punch him in the face.” He snaps.
I struggle to twist. I want to touch him—to console him.
“Do you need help?”
“No! I need to be doing some of this on my own. I can’t expect everyone to do everything for me.”
“Nonsense, don’t be so stubborn.”
I chuckle, “Who’s the parent?” He gives me a deadpan look, but I don’t care what he thinks … I don’t want to be doted on. Right now, Ben’s the one in need of consoling.
Six
Yesterday was nice. I enjoyed Ben’s company, and he did a fairly good job at keeping me distracted. I have a feeling that today will be much different. Early this morning a nurse had come in to bathe me, and she told me that today I will be heading to the rehabilitation room to get started on my therapy.
The thought of that word ‘therapy’ is both exciting and terrifying. I’m scared it will be painful and exhausting, but I’m anticipating getting back to normal … well as normal as life can be for me now.
Around noon, Lexie and Ben both come in to see me. “I have playtime today.” I joke. Thankfully they decide to hang around until the nurse comes to get me. It’s always nice to have company to make the time go by faster.
“So, is that little brother of yours ever going to come in and see me?”
“Of course he will. He umm … he is, just a little confused about this whole situation between you and Dad.”
“Huh?” I don’t understand. “Is he mad at me?”
“It’s complicated.”
“What’s complicated about it?” My tone is edgier than I’d like it to be, but I haven’t seen my son Mathew since I’ve woken up. Why on earth wouldn’t he want to come see me?
“Sixteen year olds are just stupid Mom.”
“Hey! Don’t call your brother stupid.”
“That’s not what I mean. It’s just that … he’s really mad that Dad has a new girlfriend, and he thinks maybe you did something to push Dad away.”
“What? Your dad gets a girlfriend and your brother thinks I did something to cause it? So, it’s my fault?” I shouldn’t be upset with Mathew. He must be really hurting, but this information has me baffled. Why on earth would he blame me? This is down right ridiculous.
“Lexie and I both know his rationalization is way off kilter, but he’s just being a stupid kid—like I said. He’ll come around.”
I don’t know what to think. I feel a bit betrayed and personally attacked by my younger son. I know that he has always been a daddy’s boy, but to take his side on this—it stings. I need to get myself in check none of this is Mathew’s fault. He is young and he is probably very confused by all of this.
The nurse I’ve come to know as Penny comes in pushing a wheel chair. Before I lose my mind thinking about Mathew, she is a perfect distraction.
“Are you ready for this?”
I inhale deeply counting to myself, and then slowly push the air from my lungs, “ready as I’ll ever be.”
***
Two heavy metal doors swing open when she hits a large round button on the wall. A cavernous room opens up, revealing a state of art gym. She wheels me past all sorts of contraptions, “Don’t worry, we don’t expect you to be out here lifting weights this soon”.
“Thank you, Penny.” I needed her to confirm that they weren’t just tossing me into the ring this quickly.
“I’m taking you to the pools.” We make a large loop around the equipment to a brick wall in the back corner, except it wasn’t just a wall—it rounded and revealed two large pools and two hot tubs. On the left of the pools, we headed for the dressing room. I had expected the room to be lined with lockers like a regular gym, but there were only a few lockers. It did, however, have quite a few private changing rooms blocked off with curtains. Penny slipped behind one of the curtains revealing a fairly large room with a few odd contraptions tucked in the corner.
“Please don’t tell me you’re going to try to change me yourself.” Penny laughs loudly, she must have known what I was thinking; this redhead girl is way too petite to be lifting me by herself. Locking my chair in place, she goes over to one of the contraptions that looks like something a mechanic would use for pulling out an engine and pushes it forward to me. She’s going to hoist me. Talk about humiliation. I grit my teeth; I had always joked with my kids, if I ever needed to be hoisted around to just put me out of my misery. Who would have known … guess we should be careful what we joke about.
Penny was very gentle getting me into the hideous looking swimming suit. I definitely won’t be winning any pageants today. Besides the awful swimwear, I’m sporting a cast that is now wrapped up in a lovely plastic bag to keep it from getting wet. I’m hot. Penny makes no comments about my get up. She wheels me over to the side of the pool.
“Nikki, this is Laura. She is going to get you started on your road to recovery.”
“Hello Laura.”
“Yeah … yeah, hi. Are you ready for a dunk?” Her straight forward no nonsense personality takes me for a bit of surprise. Most of the people I’ve encountered in the hospital so far have been extremely friendly and helpful. This should be interesting.
“Can you help me get her into this thing?” Laura, Miss Abrupt, gives Penny a deadpan stare.
Surprisingly, Penny just smiles back, “Of course”. When strapping me into yet another harness, she whispers to me, “Don’t let the vampire suck the life out of you.” It’s hard to hold back the laugh that’s bubbling up. “All set. Good luck! I’ll be back in about forty-five minutes.” I know her good luck comment has a double meaning.
Dangling in the harness—my right arm and right leg—hang limply, I feel like I’m in one of those bouncers I’d hang from the doorway for my babies. Laura gives me no warning at all. She just pushes a button, and the contraption swings over the pool and starts to descend— plunging me into the pool. Thank goodness, it’s warm.
I had no idea what was about to come. Laura jumps in the pool with me and grabs my arm pushing and pulling it in different directions. “We need to get these muscles moving, and hopefully engaging. Water is a nice weightless way to exercise.”
I guess she’s not as harsh as my first assumption was of her. She’s just straight forward and to the point, and in reality dealing with her isn’t that bad. I’m sure I will get used to her brash personality.
Seven
“We’re going to let you get out of here tomorrow.”
This is the best news I’ve heard since waking a week ago.
“The progress you’re making with your therapy is moving at a nice pace. We’re going to kick it up a bit. You did say your sister has agreed to get you back here every day for therapy, correct?”
“Yes, that should be no problem. Between her and my kids everyone has agreed to help.” It’s true, everyone has volunteered to help in any way they can, which makes me feel guilty to steal their time, but I don’t want the doctor to know how this is all making me feel mentally. I want to get out of here.
“In that case, as long as no other complications pop up, I think tomorrow it is then. I will want you in for a follow-up appointment in two weeks.”
“Here, or in your clinic?”
“My clinic, Mountainview Neurology center. I will make sure the nurse gets you all of the information. I expect that Dr. Hoover, your orthopedic Doctor, along with your regular M.D. will also want to see you.”
I glance down at my leg—free of the cast—but blazing with a large scar. The first time I had seen my leg, I wanted to gag. It looked viciously red and mutilated. Now I’m getting used to it. I guess it could have been worse—it could be gone. The metal from the side panel had bent and tore into my leg while the pressure snapped both my Tibia and Fibula. I remember Dr. Hoover explaining to me how they had to remove me from the car with the metal imbedded into my right leg … almost to the point of severing my leg. I’m slowly—day by day—figuring out bits and pieces of that night.
“You’re on the way up, but you still have a big mountain ahead.” Doctor Mitchell says.
I know exactly what he means by that … last night was the first night I hadn’t cried from the pain and frustration after therapy, I guess that’s progress in itself, after seven days I finally stopped crying. “I can wiggle my fingers and toes a little now.” I add weakly.
“That’s great, Nikki. Now, we can be sure that your brain is starting to heal.” I guess he’s right some movement is better than none. “Just remember the Grand Canyon wasn’t carved out in a day. These things take time, and don’t get too frustrated with yourself if the pace is slower than you would like.
***
Getting out of the hospital is liberating … but strange. I have racked my brain trying to remember the last two and a half months, but I come up empty. It feels like I’ve been lost in a Twilight Zone show that is continuing to run. The last thing I remember is the snow pelting down and now it looks like spring outside of my car window. This gives me new meaning to “Stop and smell the roses,” if you’re not careful—time will disappear in an instant.
“How are you doing sweetie?”
“I’m fine, thank you Heather. I swear this won’ be permanent.” I can’t believe I’m being taken to my sister’s house to live with her. I’ve had to deal with a lot of humiliating situations recently, but I don’t know if I feel more humbled.
“Don’t worry about it. Remember when we were young and always said, we would get a place together? Well … I guess now it’s finally happening.
I laugh, “yeah, but I think we hadn’t planned on kids and husbands to be there as well.”
“Awe heck, Joe doesn’t mind and Rachel and Alex are too busy to come and hang out with Mom anymore.”
“Well sis … hate to break it to you, but you’re not cool anymore.” I poke fun at her but in truth my kids are starting their own lives too. Mathew stopped by twice to see me, but he seemed distant. I wish I could have squeezed all of his unknown worries right out of him. Then there’s Lexie, she just turned eighteen on the day I woke up, and she’s graduating from high school and entering art school this fall. And Ben … he’s already looking at graduate schools to be a doctor. Where does this all leave me? My husband is gone and my kids are moving on. As if my sister knew what I was thinking, she reaches over and squeezes my good hand.
Pulling up to her house, I’m astonished to see the newly built wheelchair ramp leading up to their front door. Now I know what she meant by her comment, about her house being more accommodating.
Joe, my brother-in-law, is a fairly stout guy. He works for the local fire department and it takes him little to no effort to help me into my chair. “Thank god you’re coming to stay. I think your sister has been trying to kill me with her cooking.”
“At least I feed you.” She throws a water bottle at him and he ducks out of the way just in time.
“I’m just saying … having a chef in the house … might be nice.” He stammers.
“Id love to help in the kitchen. It’s the least I can do for you guys taking me in. I might need a prep cook though. I haven’t quite gotten used to this one-handed thing.”
“Weird, all I need is one hand,” Joe teases.
“Oh my god, don’t be gross.” My sister looks mortified, but I can’t help myself and I laugh.
“He does have a point.”
“Having you two around each other is going to be worse than I thought. The kids aren’t even this bad.” I stick my tongue out at my sister and Joe laughs spinning me around and pushing me up the ramp to their two-story home.
They have lived here for about ten years and I recognize all the same décor; the brown plush sofa set in the living room, the dark wood end tables and matching coffee table, a collection of family photos over the fireplace and the same artwork on the wall. However, familiar as it is, I still don’t feel like I’m home. The imposter. The stray dog they’re dragging home.
“I brought over some of your things and set up the guest room for you. Everything is on this level so it should be easy for you.” Heather leads the way down the hall to my “temporary” living quarters. At least it’s not a tiny box. The room is spacious with plenty of room on both sides of the queen size bed for me to maneuver this damn chair around it. Not that I can actually move it well with only one arm fully functioning.
“There’s a dresser here for your stuff, and in here,” she walks into another adjoining room, “is the bathroom.” She turns around to look at me and her consoling eyes make me want to cry. I feel pitiful. I can’t even go to the bathroom with out help. “I got us some walkie talkies. Joe and I tried them out. I’ll keep one clipped to me, so if you need anything—just push the button.” I take the hand held walkie talkie and set it in my lap.
“That must have been fun testing their range.” Joe and Heather look at each other and smile, “yes it was,” Joe piped.
“So, that’s pretty much everything,” Heather quickly changes the subject. “Are you hungry?”
“Actually, I’m feeling wiped. I think I might just lay down for a bit.”
“Oh sure, of course.” After Heather helps me up onto the bed, which is a lot softer than the hospital bed. Their voices grow fainter as I edge closer to darkness.
Eight
Nothing familiar—bed too hard, the smell of the linens off, the pillow too fluffy—everything is just off. I pry open my sleep deprived eyes.
I shouldn’t be here. I should be home snuggled up against Sean’s warm body. His morning ritual: tickling me until I can’t take any more.
The memories crash into me like hard breaking waves. I miss him so much, but I know deep down that I shouldn’t. He’s moved on—gone. I’ve been tossed aside like a worm out pair of sneakers.
It’s hard for me to fathom that everyone else has had two more months to adjust, but me … I’ve only just found out. I can literally feel the depression oozing into my very core—smothering me with its sludge. My husband of twenty years is gone. I’m going to end up living like my aunt Betty—alone with my ten cats. The tears come again. This time, they might not stop.
Tap … Tap … Tap
The li
ght sound at my door is aggravating. Can’t everyone just leave me alone?
“Nikki?”
I roll my eyes hearing my hovering sister’s voice, “WHAT?”
“I’m making breakfast. I thought maybe you’d like to join us.”
“I’m not hungry!” Just as I say that, my stomach growls—protesting. I try to rub it, but my arm does nothing. “Damn it!” This whole situation has me feeling so frustrated. A week of therapy has only left me physically and mentally exhausted. The minuscule amount of movement I can get my fingers and toes to actually do is meaningless. Angry—I’m so stinking angry. I want to jump out of the bed and run to the bathroom to slam the door, but I can’t even do that.
Tap … Tap … Tap
“Come on Nikki.”
“Go Away!”
I shouldn’t take my emotions out on her. I know she is just trying to help, but right now … I just want to be left alone. Thankfully, I hear her walk away. I lay staring at the ceiling feeling edgy and now a new sensation hits. I don’t know what I’m going to do. My bladder yells at me—and I just sent the one woman who could help me—away.
My wheelchair is just within arms reach. The problem—I’ve never tried to get into it on my own yet. This could be disastrous trying to maneuver two limbs that are unresponsive. Twisting, turning and a lot of grunting later, I’m able to get myself in a seated position with my legs swung over the side of the bed. My balance seems so off. It could be from lying down for so long and my muscles are weak, but not having the capability to move my right arm and leg for leverage is – killer. I feebly push down the fluffy purple comforter on the bed. I don’t want to get wrapped up in it while trying to move over to the wheelchair. Now, the tricky part … reaching out to the chair, I grip the arm and drag it towards me. Crap, now what? I stare down the chair like it’s my arch nemesis, my bladder still singing. Pushing up to stand on my left leg, I balance for a moment using the chair for leverage. Awkwardly, I hop around. Twisted around, I go to plop down on the seat, but the chair bumps and scoots right out from underneath me. In two seconds, I go from standing to lying flat on my back.
