“It’s not unusual for the mind to block out a horrifying experience,” Dr. Hansen interjected helpfully. “Sometimes the brain does it to protect itself from the pain or grief the situation may cause.”
She opened her eyes, nodding her understanding, although, it didn’t alleviate her sense of inadequacy. It seemed strange; the last ten years of her life seemed real, but she couldn't remember her own car accident.
"I remember finishing my painting in the art room at school. My teacher and I talked about it before I left. She’d been complimentary, telling me I should consider pursuing Art as a major in college. I was excited about it, my painting, I mean; happy it’d turned out better than I expected. I remember being excited about graduating, and going to college." She stopped a moment, soaking in the last "real" memory she'd had in ten years, then shrugged and continued, “Beyond talking to my teacher in class, I guess everything else I remember is a dream."
Her mom lovingly reached over, taking Sophie's hand in hers. "I'm not surprised you don't remember the accident, honey."
"Nor am I," Dr. Hansen added. "When you were first brought to us, I read your charts. Honestly, all of us were amazed you lived through the crash.”
“Why? Was I really in such bad shape?” She questioned, surprised even Dr. Hansen seemed genuinely shocked.
Dr. Hansen cautiously looked from her mom to her dad, then back at her before continuing, “For starters, both of your knees were broken. One of your lungs was punctured, and four of your ribs were broken.” He stopped a moment, allowing what he'd said to sink in.
She was stunned. “A punctured lung does sound serious, as does broken knees.” She absently rubbed them, continuing, “But those injuries don’t sound like they would cause me to go into a coma.”
“True, although any kind of trauma can cause a coma.” He smiled lightly, running his fingers through his thick hair, as though trying to comprehend how she survived. “We think your coma was caused by serious head trauma. You see, your head hit the steering wheel during the crash. When they x-rayed you, they found almost every bone in your face had been fractured.”
She shook her head, trying to remember something about such a terrifying experience. Still, nothing came to her. As far as she remembered, it was the day her parents died. At the thought, she reached out and grabbed her mother’s hand, squeezing it tightly.
Lovingly, her mom and dad smiled at her.
How thankful I am they didn’t really die, she thought for the hundredth time. She also noticed all three of them seemed to be holding something back. She shrugged it off, knowing there was a lot of information they had for her, recognizing she needed to be patient. At least, for now, she thought. Her dad discreetly wiped his eyes.
“While you were in your coma, you had three facial reconstruction surgeries. We had to give the plastic surgeons some of the pictures we’d taken for your graduation. The surgeons did a great job. You look like you, even awake.”
“Thanks, dad.” She laughed. Then asked her next question. “What happened to the other driver? Is he all right?”
She watched Dr. Hansen look down nervously, watched as her mom and dad looked at each other, obviously having a conversation most couples can have after they’ve been together a long time, without saying a word. Her dad nodded while he and her mom traded places, allowing him to be next to her. He sat on her bed, picking up her hand, and putting it in his.
“No, Sophie, she wasn’t all right. The police say she . . .”
“She what dad?” Then a memory of something David said to her right before he started bricking her in prompted her to ask, “Was she trapped in the car somehow?”
Surprised, he answered gently, “Yes. She was trapped behind the steering wheel. While they were waiting for the Jaws of Life to be brought in, a fire started in the car.”
“A fire?” She interrupted, terrified by the thought.
“Yes, they smelled the spilt gasoline, but there wasn’t anything they could do about it. What they didn’t realize is the young woman behind the wheel had been smoking when the crash happened.
“No,” was all she could express.
Nodding, he continued, “Clearly, the butt of the cigarette was still burning, and it lit the gasoline.”
“What did they do? Please tell me they got her out in time?”
Shaking his head sadly, he answered, “No, I’m afraid they weren’t able to. The car exploded while she was still inside.”
“Oh no! It was my fault.” Sophie cried.
“Sophie, it wasn’t anyone’s fault,” her dad growled defensively, obviously trying to protect her. “It’d been raining, and the two cars collided head on. The officer who spoke to us said it looked like you tried to brake, but your car hydroplaned into the other car. There was nothing to be done.”
Sophie started to cry. The thought of the young woman dying was almost more than she could bear. She felt her mother stroking her hair, her dad saying consoling words, but she couldn’t brake free of the pain.
“Okay. Enough for today. I'm going to give her some morphine, and keep a close eye on her,” Dr. Hansen broke in, concerned.
“I don’t mean to interrupt,” Hope called from the doorway. "It’s time for Sophie’s physical therapy.”
“Oh,” Dr. Hansen started, a little embarrassed. “I hadn’t even mentioned she would be starting today.”
Hope walked in and parked the wheelchair, turning to Sophie’s mom and dad.
“I know it’s still relatively early, but her physical therapy should last two hours. Afterward, we’re going to try getting some real sustenance into her body. I’ve no doubt by then she’ll be exhausted, and will need rest.”
Dr. Hansen concurred. “The first day of this type of rigorous physical therapy is tough for anybody, but will most likely be even more intense for you. You will be very fatigued by the time you’re done with the therapy.”
“We understand,” her mom said. “We’ll be back tomorrow.” She kissed her quickly on the cheek followed by a kiss on the forehead from her dad. Then they were gone.
Sophie suffered through her tears. She was miserable.
Hope patted her on the leg.
“It’ll be all right. You want to get your body completely working again, right, dear?”
She nodded, wiping tears from her eyes.
“I do. I've just found them again, and I’m sad to see them go.”
“I understand.”
Sophie heard her take a deep breath before she gently changed the subject.
“I’ve been here since the day your parents checked you in. We’ve had a lot of one-sided conversations, you and I. You’re a good listener.”
“Oh, really?” Sophie laughed, her body tingle with the knowledge she somehow already knew this.
“Yes, really. Now let me help you into the wheelchair.”
Sophie gingerly tried to sit up. Although she recognized her body, it was stiff, awkward.
“Sweetie, I still can’t believe how well you can move.” She helped her get situated in the chair, putting the feet of the wheelchair in position to rest hers on. “You know, I’ve never seen such resolve in two people.”
“What do you mean,” Sophie asked, hoping she meant her parents.
“Your mom and dad knew without a doubt you’d wake up. At times, I was so overwhelmed for them, wondering if they’d made the right choice, keeping you alive such a long time.”
“Ten years is a long time to wait. I’m glad they did.”
“I am, too.” She smiled, pushing Sophie's wheelchair out of the room.
Sophie rode in silence, realizing there was still a lot more she wanted to know. As she tried to decide which of her questions to ask first, Hope said, “The doctor thinks it would be all right for you to eat something after your physical therapy.”
“Some toast sounds great.”
"Well, more specifically, he thinks you can try some bouillon. Then in a few hours, if everything goes well, maybe s
ome Jello.” Hope laughed.
“Oh.” She laughed back, enjoying the feel of it, “I guess bouillon would be great, too.”
Hope took her into the physical therapy room, situating her next to her first station. She locked the wheelchair in place. “They should be here in a minute.” She turned to leave, but swung back around. “You know dear, if you need anything, someone to talk to, or a shoulder to cry on, I’m here for you.”
A little surprised by her familiar mannerisms, she nodded, “Thank you Hope.” Their eyes locked a moment. Sophie asked, “Do you know someone by the name of Rina? You remind me a lot of her.”
Now it was Hope’s turn to be surprised, “I do. My daughter’s name is Rina.”
Her mind began swirling with a myriad of questions, none of which she was able to contemplate because the Physical Therapist walked in.
“Hello, I’m Bob. Are you ready to begin?”
Taking her eyes from Hope’s, she looked over at Bob. “Sure, ready as I’ll ever be.” She watched Hope leave the room, recognizing the tingle within her again. She definitely wanted to talk to Hope again soon.
#
Physical therapy was difficult, seeming to last forever. Finally, though, she’d finished and Bob wheeled her back to her room. After he helped her back into bed, and covered her, he left, saying he’d be back again tomorrow. Sophie sighed wearily, closing her eyes, ready for a nap, when she heard a knock on her door.
“Do you mind if I come in for a minute?” Dr. Hansen asked.
She shook her head no.
“Great.” He pulled up a chair next to her bed. “How was Physical Therapy?”
“Good,” she answered sleepily.
“I can tell Bob gave you a tough workout. I won’t keep you long.”
“Thanks, Dr. Hansen.”
He went on, “I talked to Nurse Hope right before I came in. She said she was bringing in your bouillon.”
Sophie nodded, trying to be more alert, as obviously he had something to discuss with her.
“Fine. Now there is something I need to talk to you about.”
She kept her eyes closed but smiled. “Okay, but you told my parents I needed to rest.”
Dr. Hansen chuckled as well. “You’re right, we can talk tomorrow.” He stood to leave.
She opened her eyes, making her face serious again. “It’s fine Dr. Hansen. What did you need to talk to me about?”
Sitting back down, he questioned, “Are you sure?”
The crease in his brow told her he had something important to talk to her about. Nodding once again, she answered, “I’m sure.”
“Good, I’ll get right to it, then. As I’ve said before, you’re a miracle. There aren’t many patients in the world who have been in a coma for ten years, and come out of it. Much less, come out of it able to walk and talk.”
She moved up a little, wondering where this was heading. She knew she didn’t want to be a trophy is his case to show off to the world. She wouldn’t have it.
“What’s even more incredible, though,” he said, absently tucking a pillow firmly behind her back, "is, while in your coma, you were dreaming as if your life continued to go on.”
“Yes. Right. I’m still having a hard time believing this is what’s real.” Sophie offered.
“Exactly,” he replied, slapping a hand on his knee excitedly. “I’ve often wondered if dreaming occurs in coma patients, but have had little opportunity to see if I was right.
Most of the time, the patient dies of a complication or is let go by their loved ones. When a rare case does wake up, they’ve had such serious brain damage; there's been little or no way to communicate.” He paused, looking intently at her, “You’re rare, Sophie. Very special. Do you understand?”
“I’m beginning to,” she returned. “To me, I don’t seem any different than I did a week ago, or even a few days ago, except I’m alive.”
Dr. Hansen eagerly scooted closer to her. “What do you mean?”
In response, she pushed herself farther into the pillows, uncomfortable by the force of his question.
He must’ve noticed because he sat back a little. “I don’t mean to frighten you. It’s only right before you woke up, you almost died. Your heart stopped beating. For nine years your body didn’t do anything strange, then we almost lost you twice in the last eleven months.”
“Twice?” She questioned.
“Yes. One minute your body functions were normal, the next we were trying to make sure you didn’t die.”
“Wow. That explains a lot though. I noticed everyone seemed weird. I guess I would’ve been, too.” She remembered the night the man in the mask had tried to take her. She remembered hearing people talking, mentioning her parents. She wondered if that was the first time.
Interrupting her thoughts, Dr. Hansen asked, “Are you all right? Did you think of something?”
“Perhaps,” she responded lightly. She wasn’t ready to go into too many details with him right now.
“Look. I understand I’m probably being overbearing and I apologize. When most patients’ bodies react the way yours did before you almost died, they actually do. Die.”
Bewildered, she said, “I didn’t know.”
“It’s true. I’ve always wondered why, and now you might have some of the answers. Now you can tell us what you remember right before you came out of your coma.”
She stared at him, guessing why he would be interested, but embarrassed he thought she had the answers. “Look, Dr. Hansen, I think I understand why you would be interested . . .” she broke off, laughing nervously before she continued, “But right before I woke up I had a nightmare. A nightmare I thought was as real as you and I are talking right now.”
“A nightmare.” Dr. Hansen started inquisitively, pulling a pad of paper from his jacket pocket and a pen from the pocket on his breast. “Sophie, this may be important. Would you be willing to tell me what it was about?” He questioned, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh, I don’t think you want to know. It’s silly.” She stopped, unable to continue, the thought of her unborn child causing such agonizing pain, tears welled up in her eyes.
“It wasn’t silly, actually,” she started again in a whisper. “I don’t see how what I dreamt would be important. I think somehow my dreams are unimportant, knowing I killed another person.”
Dr. Hansen tenderly touched her arm. “I understand, Sophie. It's a difficult situation. Remember, though, it wasn't your fault alone. Sometimes things happen, usually for a reason."
She nodded, closing her eyes. She didn't want him to see her crying.
"Realize it's normal to be sad. The best thing a person can do, I believe, in traumatic situations, is try to make something good come from it. From my point of view, what you were dreaming may be the key to why you woke up. This is exactly what I wanted to talk to you about. I hoped you’d be willing to tell me the whole story. From what you thought happened to your parents up until two days ago when you woke up.”
“But why?” She wondered aloud, unsure she wanted to share her dreams with other people.
“You see, I’d like to write a book about you. More a manual, I guess, to let other doctors and other people with a loved one in a coma know there’s hope . . .” He stopped because Sophie shook her head. He leaned forward again, going on, “It would include my theories, and beliefs about coma patients. The therapy I used on you, my notes and such.”
She watched him run a hand through his thick, dark hair and thought for a moment he reminded her of someone. “Is your first name, by chance, Phillip?”
He stood up, a look of shocked amazement on his face. “How would you know my name?”
Blushing, she answered, “You don’t look exactly like him, but you remind me a lot of my, this man from my dreams.”
“You’re kidding?” He sat back down, writing something on his notepad. “Who was I to you? Was I your doctor?”
Her face turning even more crimson, she answered, “Well yo
u were a doctor.”
“I was. What kind?” he asked curiously, his notepad forgotten.
“You had a doctorate in Theater. You were the Theater Director in a private school.”
“Fascinating. While you were in a coma, I did tell you my name, but you remembering it and incorporating me into your dreams. Well, as I said before, fascinating. Did you and I . . .” He didn't finish because Hope walked in, setting a tray on a table next to her bed.
Her blush deepened even further, wondering how much Hope had heard.
“Oh, nurse Hope. I didn’t hear you come in,” Dr. Hansen quipped uneasily. He was obviously unfamiliar with being caught off-guard.
She noticed Hope smile slightly. “Would you like to take a break, and have some bouillon?”
“Yes.” She sighed in relief.
“Um, yes, we can finish this later. Would it be all right if we do this, the book, uh, manual, I mean? Your information could be the key to helping other coma patients have a full recovery.”
“I’d like to think about it.”
“Sure. We’ll discuss it again tomorrow,” he said, waving awkwardly before walking out.
“From the blush on your face, I’m guessing he was a special someone in your dreams,” Hope said with a straight face, although she thought she heard the shaking of laughter in her voice.
“Maybe, but I’m not telling.” Sophie crossed her arms trying not to laugh as well.
“Uh-huh, well I’d love to help with the book. Record you and such, if you decide to do it. In fact, maybe Dr. Hansen wouldn’t mind if your mom and dad helped out as well. Then, if there were parts you’d rather not reveal directly to Dr. Hansen, you could tell your parents or me.”
“I’ll think about it,” she said again, taking a sip of her bullion.
“Sounds good. I’ve got to go but I’ll be back later. Enjoy your bouillon.”
Chapter 24
“This manual would help others,” Sophie questioned, already knowing she would do it, but wanting to hear it once again from Dr. Hansen.
“Absolutely. I’ve already had several hospitals call me asking if I would come out and give a lecture. I’ve put them off, reassuring them I’d have them something as soon as possible. I’m hoping it’ll be your dreams, as well as my notes and theories. We should be able to provide these doctors with a lot of helpful information.”
Sleeping Roses Page 21
