by C. J. Lau
Chapter 12
“Alright there, Cat, I need you to walk in a straight line towards me. Don’t take it too fast.”
I take a confident step with my left leg, bending my bandaged knee as much as I can. The next step is the hard part.
I will my left foot up, off the ground. Nothing. It doesn’t move.
I’m scared.
“Come on Cat. You can do it. Try. Take a little step.”
My physiotherapist’s explained the importance of this. Today it’s just me, walking on my own. My last hurdle in order to be let out of hospital.
Come on Cat! One step. NOW! I shout to myself.
I prepare for a wave of pain, lift my left leg to rest body weight on my injured knee. But pain doesn’t come. Inspired, I decide I can’t turn back.
I take my first step forward.
“Brilliant!” my physio encourages. “Just a few more.”
The second step is easier, but my thigh starts to ache by the third.
“Great stuff. How are you feeling?” This woman, endless positivity since I woke up; I swear she doesn’t walk, she bounces in to see me. And when she smiles, like now, I see her blue eyes sparkle with pride.
I smile too, mine coming out more like a grimace. “It’s just starting to get sore.”
“Yeah, that sucks, but at least you’re able to bear weight. You can walk on it!” Her sudden exclamation not lost on me. I can walk three steps. Progress.
“Let’s get you back to the bed.” She bounces ahead of me. “We can do the other exercises.”
I walk the four steps to the bed. No prompting. Walking’s the first step back, and after three days of treatment I have the confidence. I’ll do it.
I feel her eyes evaluating. “Elite athletes are always the stubborn star pupils,” she jokes, but I hear the serious edge. “You need to take it easy when you get out of here.” I prop myself up on the bed. “Have you ever had a serious leg injury before?”
I shake my head, knowing I’ve been so lucky, no serious injury through my career.
A little bit too much sadness leaks through, “Not so lucky any more though, eh?”
Her wave of energy counters that, picks me up. “I believe in you, Cat. Your journey back will really start now.” She massages my thigh to relax it. “But you need to listen to me. If I say do ten reps, that doesn’t mean fifteen just because you think you can. Give your leg time to build back up again.”
“Understood. No heroics.”
She starts me on resistance exercises.
“Did you say I can leave today?” I ask.
The sparkle in her eyes gives me hope. “Well, you passed my tests. But I’m not the one to give the all clear.” Her strong, trained hand on my shoulder now. “You see, with coma patients, it’s more about whether they’re mentally ready.”
Twenty gruelling minutes later the session is over. I lay back in bed, wondering what’s next. The last thing she says making me want to jump in excitement, “Do take the walking stick with you, and consider getting a knee guard made. The bandages aren’t meant to be a permanent solution.”
I feel the need to express gratitude for everything she is. “It’s great to hear you believe in me. Thank you.”
Somehow, her smile gets wider. “Aww, you’re welcome, Cat. You sure are the nicest Olympian I’ve ever worked with. See you tomorrow.” And with that she bounces off.
Then Mum and the rest step in, beaming wide. I know more good news is next.
“Time to go darling,” Mum says. “We can finally get you out of here.”
Excitement steals my breath. “Does this mean I get to go home for good?”
“Not quite for good yet.” Dad, always the realistic one. “There’s a few more days of treatment, and they still need to give you clearance to fly. They don’t want to take any risks with blot clots.” A pat at my foot. “But you can come with us tonight, the rest will be out patient work.”
Maggie puts something down on the bed. Through it all, she’s still here. I love her so much for that. Will find a way to show her, once I get home. She still looks tired, stress lines taking shape behind her eyes, but the smile’s there. A smile holding keys to so many memories.
“I brought you something to change into.”
I look at the clothes she’s brought. New. Tags waiting to be removed.
“Thank you, Maggie.” I can’t wait to get out of here. “So can I go right this minute?”
“Pretty much,” Maggie smiles. “Get changed. We’ll be waiting.”
I barely hide my excitement. Stripping and sliding into my new outfit. The thick bandage around my knee limits bending, but Maggie’s bought me a skirt.
“She’s thought of everything,” I say to the empty room, standing and taking up my walking stick.
I give one last look at the room, my home for five months. The equipment all powered off and rolled into the corner. The bed unmade, discarded hospital gown crumpled near the pillow. No calendars, no clocks, nothing to tell the time. A small collection of get well balloons and bears still take up a shelf. I need to reply to all those friends soon. I’ve got a lot to catch up on.
A few minutes later I’m a free woman. I sign my discharge papers as the others go to collect my gifts. I walk slowly, but fast as I can towards the exit.
Fresh air! I’m alive!
“How does sunlight feel, eh Cat?” Maggie jokes, guiding me towards the car park. In the daylight I can see her more clearly. The stress on her face seeming deeper than sleepless nights could cause.
I open my mouth to ask how she is, but Kathy joins in the banter. “It’s English sunlight. Been through a few layers of cloud.”
“True that—” I start, but a sound from above sends fear rippling through me. Stops me dead, clutching at Mum. The noise louder and louder.
Maggie glances up, then at me. Concern creasing her stress lines deeper.
Mum reassures, “Don’t worry, darling, it’s just a rescue helicopter with another wounded soul who needs help.”
They help me into the car, still trembling. The helicopter landing in the distance. Its noise slowly disappearing.
“It’s okay, Cat. Everything’s going to be okay,” Maggie promises.
I nod the fear away. Turning my thoughts to the day.
“So where are we going Mum?”
“Show you soon.” With that, we take off for a short drive across town.
We pull up in front of a large house just outside the metro area of Southampton. I can’t see a hotel or lodging sign anywhere.
Kathy and Maggie, pulling up behind us, come to help me from the car. I hear birds singing the day away and the faint rustle of leaves. There’s a peace about this place. Reminding me of a Goulburn spring.
Mum gives me the tour.
“Wow, where did you find this place? It must have cost a fortune!” I ask, my eyes wandering out a sliding door to a patio and neat garden beyond.
“Carol made a few phone calls. She knows someone, who knows someone, who had this place. A summer house,” Kathy tells me. “All we did was pick up the keys and promise to return it the way we found it.”
“Yeah, so no wild parties please, Miss,” Ian jokes, tapping my stick.
We all laugh. One of those free and happy laughs families share. I’ve missed my family so much.
“This will be your room,” Mum says.
A familiar looking suitcase sends a cold ripple through me. “Where did you find it?” I move to it, slowly, like it will vanish if approached too fast. Studying every bump to confirm the history it’s shared.
“You left it at Trisha’s. Her mum’s been holding onto it since the accident,” Mum says.
Trisha.
No one speaks for a moment.
“I’m so sorry for her. Can we go see her?” I finally ask.
“There will be time for that before you go,” Mum says sadly. “Settle in while we get dinner on.”
I open my suitcase and stare, facing memorie
s.
Australian tracksuits, padding and protective gear, lots of socks, some casual clothes, and a few pairs of shoes. My hockey sticks are gone. Most likely the team has them, back in Perth. Not that my body is in any condition to use them right now.
Maggie sits on the bed. The others drifting away.
For no reason, I start rummaging. There’s nothing I need, but I can’t stop.
“Looking for something?”
“I don’t know. There are still so many gaps in my memory. I’m… I’m still so confused,” I reply. “Sometimes I feel completely lost. Like this is an awful dream.”
Don’t get upset. The psychologist said not to get upset, I repeat to myself.
“They’ll come, Cat.” Maggie’s promises are worth their weight in gold, because I know she’ll see them through. “I’ll help all I can. Not all of them are going to be pleasant, you’ve had some terrible things happen. Everyone will help. We all love you.”
“Thank you.”
There’s so much more I want to say. But the words aren’t coming. Nothing is coming as easily as it used to.
“Cat! Come outside we have a surprise for you!” Ian calls out.
Maggie follows me into the living room, the others sitting around a phone. A crackling voice blares out.
“Is she there yet?”
“Carol!” I scream, move as quickly as I can.
“Cat! Oh my gosh Cat! I thought I would never hear your voice again!” Carol screams back. It sounds like she’s been crying.
“How are you?” I take a seat. Maggie beside me.
“I’m great. Kathy woke me up. But it’s so worth it,” Carol shouts. “I should keep my voice down or I’ll wake Sam. Do you know when you’re coming home yet?”
“Not yet. There is more physio and a test to prove I can fly.”
“Okay.” My oldest friend settles down a little. “We’re going to have a party when you get back. By the way, is Maggie there?”
“Yes, I’m here.”
Carol’s voice goes serious for a moment. “The girls travel to Wagga on Thursday. They play at 3pm. Sam won’t be there as you know, but she gave the team a real rev up yesterday. Anna and Nancy will Captain.”
I listen in confusion. Maggie has something to do with the Goulburn team now?
“Thanks, Carol,” Maggie says, “Francis promised to fax me a report as soon as he got back to the school. Are you or any of the parents going?”
Yes, yes she has. Maggie must be working at Goulburn now. Doing Kathy’s old job.
“I have something else on, but Janet’s dad said he would go, and a few others will try to be there.” Carol asks, “You still there, Cat?”
“Still here.” I jump back into the conversation.
“It was great to hear your voice. Can’t wait to see you. I best get back to bed.”
“Night, Carol.”
“Bye, Cat. Bye everyone!” Then she hangs up.
I look across at Maggie. “So, Goulburn High girls now?”
“Yes. It’s a big challenge. Kathy’s helping me a lot.”
I’m about to remark about how I see it in her face, but without warning, my brain empties out like a basin with the plug pulled. There’s so much more I want to ask, but no words form. It’s worrying. Happened in hospital a few times, and it’s happening again.
I wait for a coherent thought. Everyone looking at me, waiting for more. When it doesn’t come I try pushing it.
“Err. That’s great. How… How… Dammit! Dammit!” I look away from everyone. Words failing.
Fear grips tightly at my chest. My mind’s not working. No crisp, decisive thoughts, like I’m used to. It’s all filled with fog.
“Sorry,” I say to Maggie. “Sorry.”
I feel her arm around me.
“It’s okay, Cat,” Maggie says in the gentlest voice I’ve ever heard. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’ve had a big day. ”
I hug her, wishing she’d take away the fear. Words coming back just as quickly as they disappeared.
“What if I’m brain damaged?” I ask.
No one answers me.
“Darling? Wake up.” Mum’s voice startles, and I open my eyes to find I’ve dozed off at the table.
“Sorry.” I look around the room, empty but for her and Maggie.
“Don’t apologise, sweetie. Let me take you to bed.”
They lead me back to my temporary room inside my temporary home. The house quiet, everyone else gone out or asleep. I want to ask mum where they are, but fatigue steals my words and that fog rolls in again.
Mum helps me get changed for bed. Taking the bandages off my leg and rubbing the scar with kindness and love. She kisses the scar on my cheek, and then the top of my head. I love her with all of my heart and soul.
I ask again, not wanting to, but I must, “What if I am brain damaged?”
“Don’t think that,” Maggie’s response is instant. “It’s head injuries from the—since then your brain’s been in survival mode. Since the coma. It’ll come back, like all the rest of your muscles will. Just take it easy.”
Take it easy. The other piece of advice my psychologist gave me. Take it easy, and don’t get upset.
“I believe you, Maggie. I need to.”
Mum runs her fingers down my cheeks. Her soft hands relax everything. Always have.
“Goodnight, darling. I promise you’ll wake in the morning.”
I close my eyes. “I love you, mum.”
These the last words I say before I fall asleep. I don’t even hear them shut the door.
