Chapter 8
Miley
This isn’t how death should feel. There’s a horrible burning throughout my nasal passage and I’m gasping for air. Sounds are muffled, and try as I may, I’m unable to make out my surroundings. A sudden burst of coughing projects a salty flavored liquid, causing me to gag. My right cheek is pressed against something gritty, and when I squeeze my raised hands they fill with a cool substance that conforms to the shape of my fist. My fleeting eyes fight to open and when they do they feel like they’ve been set on fire. The constant pain causes me to want to rub them, but whatever is covering my hands could only worsen the situation. Something keeps touching my feet, pulling away, then coming back again, and I’m either face down in a puddle of something, or I’ve peed my pants.
At first my ears were ringing, but now I’m starting to make out a certain sound. It’s water. The ocean. I can hear the waves coming in.
Fighting the sting, I open my eyes again. It’s blurry then begins to clear. I’m flat down in the sand. Everything hurts, but I manage to prop myself up on my elbows and scan the perimeter. I’m alone, washed ashore. There’s something attached to my body, and when I discover what it is I remember how I got here. The surfboard floats in the shallow water until a wave pushes it against me. I sit up quickly and search for the person who kept me from drowning. His vehicle remains, but there’s no sign of him. Panicked, I jump up, every single inch of my body aches as if I’ve been beaten and bruised. A rolling mass comes into shore and right inside of the curl I see a limp body being thrown around. He’s not paddling or fighting the current. Once again he disappears. A pair of bright board shorts alert me to his location. It’s only knee deep, and before I can consider the dangers, I’m making a dash for the unresponsive individual.
My heart races when I contemplate him being dead. Had this man risked his life to save mine? It’s not fair. He has to live.
I fight to flip him around and notice his mouth is open wide and filled with sea water. This isn’t good. As fast as I’m able, I drag him from the water and onto the dry beach. His body is unresponsive, each limb contorted in an unnatural way.
I’m screaming for help, while trying to wake him. Adrenaline kicks in, and as my heart begins to beat out of my chest I lose myself in the moment.
I know his lungs are full of water. First things first, I need to attempt CPR, and thank God my job required us to be certified. Lifting his head I blow in and wait then repeat the process. When nothing happens I listen for a heart beat. I can’t hear anything, and I don’t know if my ears are clogged or it’s been too long and he’s dead. Still, I have to try something. I begin chest compressions and go back to breathing. His chest lifts and falls as I do it. I’m beating on his chest, screaming at the top of my lungs for someone to come out of the jungle and help me.
Then I hear gurgles. I turn his neck to the side and watch the water spew out. As he’s doing it I’m fully aware something is wrong. His eyes are moving, but none of his body responds.
When I was in high school, before I had to drop out to pay bills, I had this friend who got into a bad car accident. I remember visiting her in the hospital and her telling us she’d broken her back. She was restrained in one position to heal and moved her face the same way this guys is doing. “Help is coming. I’m calling now.”
Not even knowing if Hawaii has a different emergency number from the rest of the U.S., I dial and wait for an operator. As I’m explaining the situation I remember I have no idea where I am. The operator asks me for landmarks and tells me to hold on while she tries to locate my signal. When an ambulance is dispatched, I run over to the Jeep and start pounding on the horn to help the rescue team find us while we stay on the call. It feels like hours, but finally I hear a vehicle coming through the jungle of trees and appearing in view. I’m waving my hands around, almost feeling like I’m going to pass out. In fact, it’s the last thing I vividly remember before waking up in the hospital.
I hate hospitals for legitimate reasons. The last time I was in one I was losing my momma. Hospitals represent death for me. If this is my hell then it was created with me in mind. I glance over at the monitors and notice I’m hooked up to an I.V., while my vitals are registered on the screen. There’s commotion outside of the curtained room, but nothing that seems dire. Unknowing what exactly happened, I wait until someone comes in to check on me.
Her dark hair and tan skin remind me of a Hawaiian model on the vacation websites. She comes in with a big smile plastered across her round face. “Well, hello there. Do you know where you are?”
“In the hospital,” I answer. I’d like to say ‘duh’, but for now I need real answers and don’t feel like pissing anyone off.
“Good. Do you know how you got here?”
I shrug. “Accident on the beach?”
It’s too much of a big deal to admit what I was really doing in the water, and since I’m unsure if the guy survived, I know I could be in hot water until everything gets resolved. If he’s alive and conscious he’s probably already told them I was trying to end my life. I’m only assuming that because he knew I couldn’t swim.
“Are you experiencing any pain?”
“I’m okay. I’m achy. My throat feels dry.”
“A lot of folks experience accidents in the water. It’s rough.” She writes something down on a chart. “The paramedics found you close to a bag with your I.D., but I just need to verify. Are you Miley Rose?”
“Yes.”
“Okay. Good. Can you verify your address?”
I give her the address of the trailer park, even though it’s not really my residence. She tells me I’ll be discharged in several hours as long as everything checks out okay. They’re worried about me having hit my head when I was being tossed around. I have to admit, it does hurt, but it could just be from stress or trying to hold my breath.
Before she can leave I stop her. “Wait. There was a male brought in with me. Do you know anything about him?”
“Name?”
I know he said it, but for the life of me I can’t remember it. “I’m not sure.”
“I’ll check with the arrival list and see if I can hunt him down. I’d take it since you don’t know his name you’re not related?”
“No.” It’s useless to make up any other excuse. “He saved my life.”
“I’ll be back in a bit. Is there anything I can get for you? Do you need to call anyone?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Are you allergic to any medications or have any known medical conditions we need to know about?”
“No. I’m not allergic to anything that I know of.”
“And medical conditions?”
“I apologize for not being able to answer. I’m not very thorough with doctor visits. My momma was sick and spent so much time there I sort of neglected myself.”
“Cancer?”
“No. Huntington’s Disease.”
Her eyes widen. “Oh. I’m sorry. Is she…”
“She past away.”
“I’m sure you already know you could be a carrier?”
I nod. “Yeah, and I’ve decided I don’t want to know.” This is such a morbid conversation, but it’s something I’ve dealt with for years. It barely gets to me any more.
“I’m sorry for prying. It’s my job to take care of people.”
“Did something show up on my tests already?” I wonder.
“Not that I know of, but that wouldn’t show. Usually symptoms of Huntington’s come on later in life. Have you experienced symptoms? Is that why you found yourself in trouble?”
“No, that was just stupidity. I thought I knew what I was doing. Clearly I was mistaken. Thanks for asking though. You must think I’m crazy, but I’m just trying to get away from it all.”
“I’ll check on that other patient and let you know if I find out anything.”
When she leaves the room I run my hands over my face. It feels dry and there’s sand falling. I can
taste some grit on my teeth and peer down to see it’s all over the white sheets of the bed. I’m alive. I keep reminding myself because it’s unbelievable. When I sauntered out into that ocean I was ready to die. I wanted it. I needed to let go so I could stop suffering.
Now I’m here. It makes no sense. I didn’t ask to be saved, but for some reason I’m grateful, because I need to know if that guy survived, or if my bad luck took the life of someone else, only adding to the toll of people who’ve come near me. Whether I’m cursed, or doomed, I know this won’t be my last attempt. I have nothing to live for, and that’s never going to change.
Chapter 9
Miley
It’s not until I’m being discharged that I see the first nurse again. She brings in papers for me to sign, probably for them to bill me. It’s just another reason to hate life. The debt follows me, no matter how far I run.
While I’m reading through the medical terms for a concussion, she starts telling me what I’ve been waiting to hear. “That guy who came in with you, he really took a beating, didn’t he?”
“Yeah. What happened to him?”
“He’s what you would call a Hawaiian nightmare. He’ll live, but he’s got a hard road ahead of him.”
“Huh? What’s a Hawaiian nightmare?”
“Surfers. You wouldn’t believe how many of them come in here with injuries like his. The ocean might be beautiful, but it’s horrendous for us medical workers. We get cases like your friend Mr. Zakins on a daily basis. It’s ridiculous how many people go out into those waves and think they can handle them, especially at a private beach. Only a simple minded person would take those risks.”
I have to stop her. “I get how dangerous it is. Trust me, I know firsthand how strong that damn ocean is, but he wasn’t being reckless or stupid. If he hadn’t been in the water I would have died.”
She sits on the edge of the bed with a questionable stare. “Why would you say that?”
It’s not fair for this guy to go through what he did because of me. I wish he wouldn’t have saved me, but he did and now we’re here.
“That guy saved my life. I didn’t know how to swim. I never should have been in the water, but it was the only way I wanted the pain to end.”
She reaches over and takes my hand. “If you tell me you were trying to hurt yourself I will have to take action and notify the doctor. Were you trying to harm yourself? I hope you understand that we take an oath to provide care to those in need. We take suicide with the highest regard. Depression is a serious medical condition.”
“I understand.” It’s difficult trying to hold back tears I don’t want to come. I’m not a weak person. I’ve been fighting since the day I came out of the womb, but I’m tired of the battle. My life has been a constant struggle, and giving up is the only kind of peace I can find. “It’s true though.” I look her dead in the eye and say exactly how I feel, because I’m not ashamed. I’m intolerably humble about it. “I have nothing left to live for. You can sit here and say I’m sick in the head, but it’s the truth. I’ve lost my family, my job, my home. I don’t have friends, and even when I did they pitied me so much it was suffocating. To top it off, there’s a good chance I carry a gene that’s going to kill me anyway. Worst part of knowing that is the fact that I just watched the most important person in my life go through every single crippling symptom of that disease. I won’t do that to myself. She wouldn’t want me to. I went into that water to die in what my momma would consider her heaven. It’s the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen.”
“I beg to differ. Sure, the island is magnificent, but ending your life anywhere isn’t the answer to your problems. There’s always something to live for, even if it’s too hard to see it right now. You’ve lost your mother. That takes a toll on anyone.”
At this point I don’t have other options. I can either get discharged and walk around a city with no means to carry on, or I can spend a few nights talking to people with a roof over my head and three meals. It’s a no-brainer. If these people want to try to convince me to change my mind, I’m willing to show them they’re wrong. “I came here to commit suicide, and there’s a good chance if I leave this hospital today I’m going to make sure it actually happens again, even if I have to walk in front of a semi-truck. I’m cursed. Anyone who comes remotely close to me suffers. Just look at the guy from today. Who knows if he’ll even make it.”
Her flabbergasted face says it all. Without another word she takes the papers away from me and tosses them in the biohazard trash can. I situate myself back on the bed and cross my arms. “Guess I’m not getting out here anytime soon.”
“I’m sorry. I could lose my job over something so serious. I’ve been depressed before. I can’t begin to imagine what your life has been like, but there’s never a reason to give up, not when you don’t have to.” She pats me on the shoulder. “I hope you can understand where I’m coming from. I’d hate to see you come back here in a body bag, darlin’.”
“I understand. This isn’t my first rodeo. I watched my momma go through this and in the end she had to die a painful death. I’m just trying to avoid that.”
“I’ll get you sent upstairs in a bit. Do me a favor and don’t leave. You may not think so, but there’s a lot of life left in you. God doesn’t put us on this earth to fail. He only gives us what we can handle.”
I raise my brows and then let them fall with a heavy sigh. Just like the ones before her, she’ll never understand, and although I trust God does have a plan for most people, I’m not sure I like where I’m heading. “Wait. Before you go, would it be okay if I checked in on the guy who saved me?”
“I can’t let your leave your room. Besides, he’s in intensive care.” I can tell she’s thinking about bending the rules for me, but decides it’s not a good idea. “I’m sorry. He’s not allowed visitors, just family. I know he’s stable. He’s looking at a long recovery. He’s injured parts of his back and severed vertebrae in his neck. They’re about to do surgery on him. He won’t be out there surfing those waves anymore, that’s for sure.”
As soon as she says it I feel like the worst person in the world. I never asked for him to save me, and now because of what he did his entire life is going to change. It’s just another reason I don’t belong in this world anymore. Everything I touch turns to shit.
Chapter 10
Baz
People are talking to me. I can hear them, but I can’t turn to see who it is or respond. Something is keeping my head stationary. My arms won’t move and I’m unable to sit up or speak. My eyes are glossed over, and after several attempts at blinking I can see a bright overhead light and something hanging above my head. Once again I make an attempt to look around with no success. Then it hits me. I’m in traction.
The voices are becoming more clear now.
“Can you hear me? Hello? Do you know your name?”
I try to speak, but what I’m saying in my head isn’t coming out the same way. It’s garbled. Giving it another go, I manage Baa before becoming exhausted.
Suddenly I’m stricken with fear. What happened? How did I get here? How long have I been here. With no regard for what’s holding me down I try to move my body around and fail. Worry seeps through my stare and an older female suddenly comes into focus. “Try to remain calm. I know it’s a bit frightening, but you’re in a safe place.”
A bit frightening doesn’t describe how this feels. Something is extremely wrong with my body, and I have no idea how I got this way. I give moving another go and feel sickened when nothing happens.
A man comes into view. He’s bald on the top of his head and it reflects off the light. His glasses are low on the bridge of his nose and he scoots them higher as he addresses me. “Now, son, you’ve been injured and we’re going to need you to remain as calm as possible. I’m going to have the nurse give you something to relax you, but first I need you to tell me if you understand what I’m saying. Blink twice in a row for yes.”
I do it.
“Good. Now, tell me if you can feel this.”
Nothing happens. I can tell he’s walked away, but he’s yet to touch me.
“How about this?”
What is with this guy? He’s not touching me at all.
“Okay, nurse let’s add some clonazepam to his drip. Let me know when the tech comes down to take him for that second MRI.” He gives his attention back to me. “You just got back from surgery. How is your pain? Blink once if it’s manageable, or twice if you’re uncomfortable.”
I blink twice. Right now I don’t hurt, but knowing I’m in this position tells me something is wrong with me. I’d rather be numb than endure what’s to come.
It’s not until I see something out of the corner of my eye that tells me how severe my injuries are. There’s a round mirror cocked for surgical procedures. At the angle it sits I’m able to see that the doctor is clearly patting me on the leg, though I feel nothing. As the medication seeps into my veins everything in the room begins to fade.
The next time I open my eyes the room is different. I’m unsure how long I’ve been out, or what has happened since then, but I’m still unable to move. Using all of my strength I move my eyes from side to side and notice some kind of contraption is keeping me in place. A warm tear falls from one of my eyes when I come to realize what it is. I know from reading that I’m in something they call a halo, which can only mean I’ve severely injured my neck, which also tells me why I can’t feel anything when the doctor touches me. It takes a few seconds to really sink in before the fear and anguish overwhelms me. Unable to move my body, I’m frozen in place while all of my emotions come into play. When I can’t take it anymore I focus on speaking and conjure up my best wail, hoping someone hears it.
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