Painted with Love: Romance Eludes Time and Death

by Karen Diana Montee

  “Ouch!” I screamed. “My leg!”

  Andre bent down and knelt in the frigid water. “Cherish, I will carry you to the deck, but first I want to hear you say that you need me.” Andre studied my face. I stared in disbelief. The room was emptying out quickly. Soon I would be alone with Andre in this room of water below the water’s surface. His game was working. I had to need him to be rescued.

  “At this moment, I need your help to get off this boat. Please help me Andre.”

  “That is not exactly what I was asking for Cherish.” He paused then added, “Tell me that you love me.”

  It didn’t matter what I said if I never saw Jean-Paul and little Jean again. I knew they were my priority. I had to live to see them again. I had to lie to Andre to get to Jean-Paul. “I love you, Andre,” I said a simply as I could.

  “Well done, Cherish. Tonight, everything changes.” I didn’t know what he meant, but I felt uneasy about his statement. Andre helped me stand and quickly placed me in his arms. My face was inches from his dangling ear, which he seemed not to notice. “Wrap your arms around me. Hold on tightly,” he said. Then he added, “It’s good to hold you again.” Slightly faltering, he carried me up the stairs to the deck. “The life boats are already in the water. You need to jump into the water and swim to a lifeboat. They will pull you in. Can you swim?”

  “NO!” I cried.

  “Then you will have to trust me, Cherish. You trust me don’t you? You broke a covenant to me and ran after another man, but you can trust that I will do what’s best for you.” His voice was calculated and spiteful. I didn’t know what I could do to get off the boat and away from Andre. “Perhaps we will be together forever, sooner than I thought.” Andre was silent for just a moment, lost in some evil thought of his. Then he looked intently into my eyes. “I will lower you into the water, and then I will jump in after you.”

  A sudden grip of fear clenched my jaw. I swallowed hard. What would Andre feel I owed him for saving my life again?

  The deck of the ferry was emptying of people. The remaining people on deck were afraid to get in the water. I understood how they felt. Most passengers had already climbed into the life boats. The screams echoed up from the water, calling for the large ferry that struck our boat, to rescue them. “Help! We are over here. We have no paddle.”

  It felt as if Andre and I were alone on the large vessel. Andre picked up a rope and untied it from a cleat. He wrapped the large line around my waist and tied it very snuggly.

  “This rope is heavy and too tight,” I objected.

  “The rope will float, so it won’t feel heavy in the water. Look at me! Trust me.” He hung me over the rail of the sinking ship with a rope around my waist. The cable cut into my stomach and squished my ribs. I could barely breathe.

  “Hold on tightly,” he instructed me. After I cleared the railing, the rope slipped from his hands or he intentionally dropped me. My body fell through the air for a quiet second. I hit the water with a firm splash.

  Suddenly I felt the cold, dark ocean bay. Water filled my nose and mouth. My head pounded with pain. My skin burned wildly from the freezing water.

  I flung out my arms to reach the surface and get some air. I looked for Andre, but he was not there. I tried to scream, but my body shook hard and my mouth filled again with water. I reached for the surface to cry for help. As I reached the cool, foggy air, panic scared me enough that I could hardly take a breath or make a sound.

  I focused on getting air. Heavy, wet boots weighed me down. The rope around my waist tangled around my long skirt and feet, making it impossible to keep my head above the surface. My injured leg barely moved enough to kick, so I tried to float on my back, as I’d seen others do.

  I shouted, “Andre!” and sank again below the water.

  As I emerged, I filled my lungs with air, while water splashed into my mouth. Then my tired, trembling body sank again in the dark sea while I fought to ignore the frigid temperature and pounding pain. I swung my arms and kicked my good leg hard to get more air. My head felt heavy.

  “Andre!” I called again.

  Fatigue overcame me like a heavy blanket falling over my eyes. I gasped for air and my lips shivered before I closed them tightly, while my exhausted frame sank down in the frigid seawater.

  When I emerged, I heard a passenger in a nearby life boat. “There’s a woman in the water! I can hear her over there!”

  The dense fog prevented me from seeing them and them from seeing me splashing at the surface. I called for help again. “Over here.” I felt I could hold on a little longer if I could just lose my boots. I took a deep breath and bent myself to reach my laces. The cold water seemed to numb the dull pain in my right leg. I unlaced my boot and began to kick it free. Suddenly something pulled on the rope tied around my waist, dragging me quickly away from the surface. I held my breath, hoping somehow I could make it back to the top. The fatigue and reality set in. The blanket of exhaustion weighed heavy. The fight to stay warm stole the balance of my strength.

  As my body sank further in the cold ocean water, I kicked my good leg as hard as I could while reaching my arms frantically towards air. I didn’t move closer to the surface. As I struggled with no progress, anger overcame me.

  This is not fair, I screamed in my mind. I want to live! God, help me! Don’t let me die! Jean-Paul, Mother, help me. It isn’t fair!

  Darkness overtook me as my body ran out of oxygen and sank towards the ocean floor.

  ***

  Chapter Seventeen: To See or Not to See

  Nairobi, November, 2005

  I woke with a start, gasping for air. My eyes opened, but I couldn’t make out anything. All I could see was white light and mild shadows. Where am I? Did I drown? Am I in heaven? I wondered frantically. “Help! Andre. I’m drowning!” I called.

  Suddenly I heard a woman shouting in a strong accent. “Doctor, de patient is being awake. Doctor, please, quickly!”

  “Dee? Can you hear me? It’s Brian. Are you back with us?”

  “Andre, help me, I can’t breathe,” I cried.

  “Dee, you’re not drowning. There is no water. There is no Andre. You’re having a bad dream. You’re here in Kenya with me. I will take care of you. You will be fine.”

  “Just a moment ago I was sinking to the bottom of the ocean. It felt real. Where am I? What day is it?” My tongue wouldn’t work right and my words slurred together.

  “You are speaking so well. That’s wonderful. Okay, today’s Tuesday. You’re in Nairobi, Kenya. It’s November 10th, 2005. You live in Seattle. You have three daughters. You’re a photographer. Do you remember anything?”

  I looked in the direction of the voice. I saw a shadow of light brown that must have been the head belonging to the voice. The room seemed bright. White and gray, shadows were everywhere I looked. “Why can't I see?” I asked in a frightened tone.

  “You hit your head, Dee. The doctor has a plan for surgery. He’s going to explain it to you."

  I paused, absorbing that he said. “Will I be able to see again?” I asked.

  “He thinks so. Think positive,” Brian reassured.

  “I can’t handle this. It’s too much,” I cried. I want to go back to my life as Cherie. I want Jean-Paul and my baby!!

  “Dee, be strong. I will help you. You have me now…”

  “Der is Miss Dee. We are happy dat you have the open eyes this sunny day. I’m Doctor Patel,” said the Indian man with a strong accent. “I shall check a few tings Miss Dee. Do not be worrying. You be improving berry well.”

  “I can’t see anyone. What is going on? Am I blind? Tell me the truth.” I burst into tears. I tried to stop crying to hear their reply. I gulped air, hoping that someone was going to wake me from this nightmare.

  “Miss Dee, you have de swelling at de base of you skull. You must have de surgery to alleviate some swelling and tissue damage. When this swelling has subsided, your vision may possibly return. We don't know if you will be experienci
ng any of de permanent damage. The very good news is, Ms. Dee, dat I called the very good surgeon, Dr. Larry Bryant, from San Francisco, who does de specializing in this exact surgery that you be needing. I explained to him all of your information. The good doctor is waiting for you to be well and travel to see him.”

  “San Francisco?" I blurted out. "San Francisco? Really?"

  “Dee?” Brian shouted. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m going crazy? I was drowning in the San Francisco Bay just moment ago. Now I’m blind and I have to go to San Francisco for surgery? I’m confused and scared."

  For a moment, no one spoke. I imagined them all staring at me, while I couldn't see their faces. A hand came down on my right hand. I nearly flinched and pulled away. "Dee, I will get you through this. Put your trust in me. I love you."

  You…you…love me? I don’t even know who you are. I recognized Brian’s voice, but I couldn’t recall what he looked like. I certainly didn’t feel like I loved him, in a romantic way. I began to sob like a lost child. I felt such relief as I let tears pour from my heart. I cried for Cherie, lying at the bottom of the bay. I cried for my eye sight and the pain in my heart that I couldn’t identify.

  “When can I go home?” I asked to anyone listening.

  “Miss Dee, you must go to Doctor Larry Bryant at once and have de surgery to help you see. Dis must be your most important priority. We are watching all tings for you to know when you ready for the air travel. The very good Mr. Brian can assist you to be going right away.”

  Again there was silence. Tears were still falling fast and soaking my hair and pillow. Brian rubbed my hand.

  “I got you, Dee. We can leave soon and get you well,” Brian said.

  I took a couple of deep breaths and worked on appreciating what I could at that moment. I looked in the direction of Brian’s voice. “Thank you for being willing to help me. I know I can’t go alone.” Those words tore a hole in my chest, like a real wound. “I would like to call my daughters. When can I do that?”

  “Anytime,” the doctor said.

  “Are you sure that you feel up to that? You just woke up. I could tell them that you’re awake and flying to San Francisco,” Brian offered.

  “I want to talk to them.”

  “Okay, I will take care of that for you.”

  The next forty-eight hours were busy. I spoke to my daughters and did my best to reassure them I would be home sometime soon. I sat with the doctor as he wrote out prescriptions and gave me instructions and discharged me from the hospital. I dealt with payment arrangements and details of my condition, without being able to see and without remembering much of the past. Brian was helpful and acted as my guardian. He seemed to enjoy being involved a little too much. Then Brian took me to the airport where I was transported by gurney to the plane and sat in first class with a lot of attention from Brian and the flight attendant.

  Traveling without being able to see the passengers around me, or the sky outside the airplane window, was very disheartening. I feared what would happen if my eyesight did not return. We arrived in San Francisco, and I was taken directly to San Francisco General Hospital. My appointment with Dr. Brandt was the following day

  Brian never left my side. He saw to every detail as if I were a child. “Okay Dee, did you get that? Tomorrow morning Doctor Bryant will come in to see you.”

  “Yes, I heard, thank you.”

  “Great, I’m just checking. I’m going to order you some lunch and then I will read you the paper. You can sleep anytime you want.”

  “What’s on the menu? I want to order my own lunch. I haven’t eaten a real meal in months.”

  “I know what you like.”

  “Brian?”

  “You want me to read you the menu to you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, but I know what you will order.”

  “Maybe you know what I would order Brian, but I don’t. I can’t remember my favorite foods.” I hated being dependent on Brian. I needed him for sure, and that made me frustrated.

  I pouted a lot the rest of the day, feeling depressed. Brian left me alone, and was patient with my disposition.

  The next morning the Doctor came in early. “Ms. Coulter? I’m Doctor Bryant. Nice to meet you,” he said finding my right hand and holding it briefly, rather than giving it a standard shake.

  “Hello, Doctor.”

  Then he addressed Brian. “Are you her husband,” the doctor asked.

  “No!” I replied a bit too loud and quickly.

  “I’m her partner. I’m here for her.”

  “It’s great that she has support right now. For this first appointment, I would like to talk to her alone, if that’s okay with you Miss Coulter.”

  “That’s fine with me,” I replied.

  “I need her to answer some very personal questions.” The doctor explained. “Thank you for your understanding.”

  “I’d like to be here. I want to know everything doc,” Brian insisted.

  “She can tell you all about it after I meet with her. Please step out for a few minutes,” the doctor politely instructed.

  “Okay. I will wait right out here.”

  After Brian closed the door the doctor said, “He’s a persistent fellow, isn’t he?”

  I offered a tight lipped smile as an apology.

  “All of your files have been forwarded to me. I have spoken with Doctor Patel in Nairobi several times. I know everyone else’s account of how you’re doing and what happened. What’s your account of the events?” he asked politely.

  “I don’t remember the accident. I vaguely remember taking pictures and…maybe there was a jeep behind us. Many details feel like a dream fading away.” I paused. “I can’t recall anything else. Is that okay?”

  “That’s enough information. Thank you. I like to assess your mental acuity, recall, and other cognitive functions. I need to look for other damage that perhaps the MRI won’t show. I want to know how much of your memory was affected. Do you remember anything in the days preceding the accident?”

  “When I think about my life it feels vague and sporadic. It’s hard to tell my past from fantasy. None of my history is strong and clear right now, but I have had a few short memories come to me that were very clear.”

  “Good. That likely will continue to happen. Do you remember any dreams while you were unconscious?”

  “Dreams?”

  “Yes. Many patients have elaborate dreams while they are unconscious. It just provides me another piece of information.”

  “I…I…um…I did have a dream of…” I paused. My mind recalled Jean-Paul’s smile and tender touch. I recalled our home in San Francisco, one hundred years ago. Where should I start? How could I tell this neurologist that I dreamed I drowned in the San Francisco Bay? “You really want to know my dream?”

  “Yes. Did you have one dream or many? Often patients have dreams related to what their body is experiencing, although the dream does not make sense. Yet it can feel very real.”

  “Real? How real?”

  “You tell me.” He paused. Perhaps he saw the distress on my face. “I only need to know if you had dreams. You don’t have to share the details.”

  “Oh, okay, well, I dreamed. Yes, I did.”

  “Could you feel anything in your dreams; pain, touch or hear sounds?”

  You mean like Jean-Paul making love to me for the first time? Like hiding in a wooden box on a long country ride into Paris? Or Andre throwing me into the ocean and letting me drown? “Yes. I could feel things in my dream.”

  “When you woke up, in Nairobi, did you know where you were and remember who you were?” he asked.

  “When I woke…I was confused. I thought I was drowning.”

  “Confusion is not uncommon when you wake up. Your brain was adjusting to being conscious.” He paused and looked at my watery eyes. “You’re doing great. I have a few more questions. What do you see right now as you look around?”

  “Shadows. Ju
st light and shadows.”

  “Can you see my hand in front of you?” he asked.

  “Not really. I see a light, vague shadow.”

  “You see my hand as a light shadow?”

  “Yes.”

  “What color?”

  “Mmm, it’s kind of gray.”

  “That’s helpful information, Ms. Coulter.”

  “Doctor? Could you please call me Dee?”

  “Yes, I can.” I couldn’t see his face, but it felt like he was smiling.

  “I need to look at the back of your head, your neck and shoulders. Could you slip your gown down to just below your shoulders and sit up for me?” He examined my head and looked carefully around my ears, neck, upper back and shoulders. He pressed on lymph nodes, pressed on skin and then examined it for color and asked me if I had any pain.

  “Thank you, Dee. You can lie back now.” He became more sober and gave me more details about my condition. “What you have is neurological vision impairment, which is loss of vision resulting from your brain injury. Medically we refer to this as ABI VI. Other terms that the medical community used to use are cortical visual impairment and cortical blindness. This simply means that you have damage to the area of your brain that’s responsible for your sight.”

  “Okay, I sort of understood all of that. You’re the expert that can repair the damage, right Doctor?” I asked.

  “I can relieve the pressure and repair damaged vessels supplying blood to the area. You may have some permanent damage because of lack of oxygen to a critical portion of your brain that processes vision. We won’t understand the extent of the damage until after your surgery.”

  “Tell me straight. What do you think right now?” I asked.

  “I have high hopes that you will experience some improvement in your vision. Once I repair the damage that I can, and the swelling goes down, you should experience more details. It’s impossible to say at this point what the extent of the damage is or how your vision will be.”