by Roslyn Bane
Kris nodded, and whispered, “I’m scared.”
***
“Doctor Matthews?”
“Yes.”
“Hi. I’m Paul, one of the therapists that will be working with you. I’ve read through your records about your injuries. I understand your left arm is not moving. I’m going to start moving it for you. Our goal is to keep all those joints and muscles moving. We’ll be meeting twice a day. You’ll be here, in therapy, a few hours today. You’ll also get the brace doc told you about. The respiratory therapist will see you later this afternoon. You’ll keep using the cane until you build up enough stamina to walk for longer periods without assistance.”
“Okay. Let’s get started.”
For the next thirty minutes, the therapist moved Kris’ arm through a wide range of movements to keep the shoulder, elbow, wrist, and hand flexible. Each finger was moved through its range of motion. Kris willed her fingers to move to no avail. Unable to get lost in her thoughts due to his banter, she looked around. Wow, there are people around here that are much worse off than me. She took a few steps with the use of a cane. While the brace was being constructed, another therapist worked with Kris teaching her how to perform a one-handed shoe tie.
Two hours later the therapist helped Kris into a wheelchair. “I think we’ve worked you hard enough for now.” He pushed her back to her room and helped her transfer into the bed. She was asleep before he was out the door.
***
“Good morning, Major. How are you today?”
Sam eyed the psychologist, a Lieutenant Commander, before answering, “As well as can be expected.”
“That’s good to know. How is your chin?”
Sam covered it momentarily. “A little sore. I fell.” Sam sighed. “I haven’t been sleeping well. I keep dreaming of the crash, but it’s not always the same. The other night I was running to help someone and jumped over a wall. That’s how I fell and busted my chin.”
“Anything else you’re worried about?”
Sam clenched her fists and inhaled deeply through her nose. “How about if I will ever walk again? When will I get out of here? Will I be able to stay in the corps? What will I do if I’m not retained? Is this pain ever going to stop? Am I getting addicted to these pain meds?”
“Those are all important questions. Have you spoken to your care team about them? Let’s make a list, and you can discuss them with your docs later. You can talk to me about whatever you want, Sam. That’s what these sessions are for.”
Chapter Thirteen
SOMEONE IS SCREAMING. KRIS sat up abruptly, and her hair stood on end as she climbed out of bed. Kris moved toward the door. Whoever was screaming had stopped, but they needed to be checked. Ignoring the pain in her chest, she pulled the heavy door open and squeezed through the opening. With a hand on the hallway railing, she moved steadily to the nurse’s station. The nurses at the workstation looked up in surprise. One of them smiled and approached her.
“Hi Commander, what can I do for you at this time of the evening?”
“I…I heard a scream, I came out to see…”
“I didn’t hear anything. Perhaps you had a dream?”
“No. It wasn’t a dream. Someone screamed. Horribly.”
The nurse took her gently by the arm and led her back into her room. “I’ll tell you what, ma’am, I’ll go check on the patients if you get back in bed. I’ll be back shortly and let you know what we find.”
“Okay. Hurry, they sounded like they were in horrible pain.” She let the nurse assist her back into bed and watched nervously as her brace was checked.
“I am going to raise the rails so you can’t fall.”
“They were up. I lowered it earlier so I could use the restroom. I guess I didn’t put it back up. Sorry about that.”
“Now, Doctor, are you trying to get us nurses in trouble? You must let us do our jobs the way you would expect us to do them for one of your patients. “
“I’m worried about the screaming. Please go check on your other patients.” Kris sat back in the bed and waited. She listened for any disturbance but heard none. Ten minutes later the nurse returned and reassured Kris that all was fine. As Kris drifted back to sleep, her thoughts wandered. The woman today, by the window. Sam. Why did she make me uneasy? Looks like she’d fallen recently. Her chin was sutured and bruised. Her eyes were green, lots of red where it should be white. That’s it. It looks strange. Although I should be able to handle that.
***
Kris lay in bed listening to the surgeon as the dressing from her chest was removed. “As you know, it is essential for the graft to get a good blood supply. I’m going to take the bandages off now. Lay still until they’re off and then you can look, if you want to. Sooner or later you have to see it.”
“All right.” Kris lay still and stared at the wall while the doctor worked the bandage loose. She caressed her ear to dull the deafening throb of her pulse. The surgeon removed the bandage and lifted it to block Kris’ view. “This is healing well. There is no sign of infection. The graft looks good, healthy pink skin. Good temperature. Are you ready to look?”
Kris nodded her head and took a deep breath prior to looking down at her chest. “Ah, ha, whh…oh, oh shit.”
“Kris, give it time. It’s early.”
“I…I, need a moment.” She looked away, avoiding eye contact with the surgeon and the nurse. She took several breaths through pursed lips. She closed her eyes for several seconds, “Okay.” She looked down again. “You’re right, the graft looks okay. It looks like the blood supply is good. I lost what fifty percent?”
“Roughly. You still have some of the tail left, and a portion near the sternum. The muscle flap is from along your side. The reconstruction can be done in phases. You’re looking at about eight to twelve months until that can get underway. We’ll talk more about that later. In the meantime, we’ll continue you in respiratory and physical therapy. With a little luck, you’ll be heading home in a few more days.”
“Okay.” She cleared her throat, “Is there a mirror?”
“In the bathroom,” the nurse said.
“I’d like to look.”
“Okay. I’ll check back in later today.” He pulled the gown closed and fastened the shoulder snaps.
“Thank you.” As the doctor left, her parents walked in.
Irene hugged Kris. “Good morning, sweetheart. How are you doing?”
“I’m going to need a few minutes. I was going to get dressed.”
William turned toward the door. “I’ll go get us some coffee. Be back soon.”
Kris told the nurse she could go and started to get out of bed. Irene came around to help her. “I’ll be your walking chaperone.”
“I think I can do it myself.” Kris huffed as she shuffled into the bathroom.
Irene pulled the door shut. “I’ll be out here. Let me know if you need anything.”
Kris stood at the sink staring at herself in the mirror. She had dark circles under eyes, her cheeks were drawn, and her hair was a jumble of tangles and clumps. She bent over to wash her face and gasped with the intensity of the pain. Quickly grabbing onto the sink with one hand she steadied herself until her vision cleared. With a trembling hand, she cleaned up as best she could. Finally, she looked in the mirror again. It was time to look closely. She fumbled with the snaps and ties on the gown until it fell open. She took a deep breath and focused her attention on her wound.
Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at her chest and arm. Oh dear God. There’s practically nothing left. A trapezoidal area of skin, swollen and soft pink served as a large patch over the area where her left breast should be. All that remained of her left breast was a gentle swell near her sternum. There was no nipple. Kris traced her finger gently over the grafts. No sensation. Dragging her finger down her lifeless arm her breath hitched. Nothing. Her hand was swollen and still slightly yellow from bruising. A fine line of sutures ran along the edges of the graft. Across h
er shoulder the skin was puckered and discolored, a mass of scars crisscrossed her upper arm until they reached a smaller skin flap. It was also swollen and softly pink. She tried in vain to clench her fist and bend her elbow. Lifeless. How did this happen? Tears ran down her face.
A soft knock on the door startled her. “Kris, are you okay?”
Kris pulled the gown up. “Yes. No. Mom, oh God, oh God.”
Irene pushed against the door, took a step into the room and wrapped her daughter in her arms. “Shh, let it out, sweetheart, let it out.”
Kris leaned against her mother weeping and trembling. After several minutes she calmed, and whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Irene grabbed tissues and wiped Kris’ face dry. “Why are you apologizing? Because you cried? Because you finally let go? Because you let yourself be a patient and not a doctor?” Gentle hands cupped her cheeks. “Listen to me. It’s okay to be scared. It’s normal. Let’s get you dressed and go talk. Would you like another gown or some of the pajamas or clothes Shelly brought you?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Kris stared at the floor when her mother returned, and stood silent while she wiped Kris’ face and neck with a warm washcloth. “Honey, if you want you can dress yourself, but I’d like to see if you don’t mind. Let me tell you how it really looks.”
“Okay,” Kris whispered.
Irene smiled at Kris before she looked at her daughters’ chest. “Both the grafts look good. They have a soft pink color to them.” She pressed the back of her hand to the grafts “And they’re warm, so it’s getting blood. They have you on anticoagulants, so that will help the blood get through. There’s still some breast tissue left, here by your sternum and the tail, near your arm. Your shoulder and arm look pretty good, Kris. The scars will fade. Give it time. Give yourself time. How does your arm feel?”
“It doesn’t.”
“They’ll do a few more tests on your arm. Think about it, honey. What else could be causing this? Where would you look if this happened to one of your patients?”
Kris stood silently for several seconds. “At the neck. Even if there wasn’t an injury, I’d look there.”
“Exactly. Now let’s get you into this pajama top. Your father will be back with coffee any minute. And probably with Danish for the staff.”
While her mother buttoned the shirt, Kris stood biting her lip. What am I going to do?
Chapter Fourteen
SAM TUGGED ON HER shorts. Using the support rails, she pulled herself up, hopped several steps, before she reached for her crutches. Looking in the mirror, she ran her fingers through her thick, black hair pulling it into tufts. She studied her face. I look like a raccoon. A coon with a yellow chin. Add a little foam and I’d be rabid. She jutted out her chin and ran a finger over the stiff stitches that protruded. “Looks like a teenager’s whiskers.” After brushing her teeth, she leaned against the counter, lifting her arms overhead and turning slightly to look at her ribs. The bruises had yellowed at the edges and were no longer as deeply purple. She could move well without hurting, although a sneeze or a cough would take her breath away. She yanked on a red marine corps t-shirt, and then crutched her way out of the bathroom. She nudged a chair over to the window so she could look outside and was pulling on a stump shrinker when there was a knock on the door.
“Major Davies?”
“Yes?”
The door opened slightly, “You have visitors. Would you like to see them here or down in the lounge?”
“Visitors?”
“Jim and Nancy Kline.”
“Here, in here is good.” They came?
“I’ll bring them down.”
Sam took a long drink of water to wet her suddenly dry mouth. She recognized their hushed voices as they came down the hall, and her heart pounded in her chest. What if they’re grossed out? She rubbed her hands across her shorts, drying the dampness. Using her crutches, Sam stood as the door opened slightly.
“Samantha?”
“Come on in.” Sam smiled as her foster parents walked in. “Hi, it’s good to see you.” She started to come toward them but stopped when Nancy hurried over to her and wrapped her arms around her. She gave her a one-armed hug back and watched as Jim set a box and suitcase on the floor.
“Oh, Sam, I’m so sorry you were hurt. Thank God you’re back here safe.” Jim reached out a hand to her, stopped short, and hugged her.
“Nancy, why don’t you let Sam sit down?”
“I think I better.” Sam sat in the chair and leaned her crutches against the wall. She forced herself to stick to small talk, anything to avoid the elephant in the room.
Jim cleared his throat, “Lauren wanted to come but was working this weekend. She sent her greetings and was hoping you would call her. She said something about you losing a bet and going out to karaoke with her. I have her new phone number and email addresses for you.” Jim pulled a piece of paper out of his wallet and handed it to her.
“I will. She’s living closer now?”
“About a half hour away, over on the West side of Chattanooga.” He looked at her closely. “How are you doing, Sam?”
“I’m doing okay. Go ahead and look. I still find myself staring at it in disbelief, especially when my toes start itching.”
“It itches?” Nancy’s hand trembled slightly as she brushed back a lock of her light brown hair behind her ear.
Sam smiled. “The part that’s not there does.”
“The phantom sensations?” Nancy asked.
“She’s been reading everything she can get her hands on about injuries like yours since we found out,” Jim explained.
“I wanted to be able to help you…In case you needed or wanted our help.”
Sam felt her eyes fill. You’re always there for me. Every time something goes wrong. Why? Everyone else left. She inhaled tightly and turned her head toward the window as she fought to control the tears that threatened to spill over. You’re a Marine for God sake. Don’t cry. After several seconds, she looked back. “Thank you.”
Nancy came over, stooped down in front of Sam and placed her hands on Sam’s shoulders, “Oh honey, we love you. We wouldn’t let you go through this alone. We’ve known you since you were four and you’ve been part of our family since you were eight. What we feel for you didn’t end because you moved out. I wish you would have let us come sooner.”
Sam muttered, “I didn’t want anyone to see me like this.”
Jim stared at her. “Like what?”
“Weak—”
“Weak? Why do you think you’re weak? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard come out of your mouth.”
Sam’s eyes opened wide, her mouth opening and closing several times. She looked at Nancy and back to Jim. “I.…”
“That’s bullshit.” Jim stood abruptly, his six-foot frame blocking Sam’s view as he approached. His face was flushed right up to the edge of his graying hairline. “Let me tell you something, Samantha. If you honestly think you’re weak, you’re going to need to talk to a shrink while you’re in here—”
“Jim!” Nancy scolded.
“No, let me finish.” He turned to Sam “I get that you’re scared and that you have pain.”
Sam jolted at his unusually harsh words. Her cheeks burned. “You have no idea.”
“That doesn’t make you weak.” He dropped to one knee in front of her and took her hands. His voice softened. “You always were one to confuse not being able to do something physically as a sign of weakness. You would push yourself so hard. But that’s not because you were weak. It’s because you were so strong.”
“I’m not strong now,” she murmured.
“Why do you say that?”
“How can I be strong? Look at me. I get tired moving from the bed to the bathroom. Physical therapy is down at the end of the hall. It takes me ten minutes to get there. Last week I couldn’t wash my own hair without hurting. Without getting out of breath.”
“A few we
eks ago you almost died. So what, you need some help. What’s wrong with that?”
Sam punched down on her thighs, “I don’t like it! I want to do things for myself. I don’t want to be dependent on anyone—” Like when I was a kid.
“And now you are. So, you see that as weakness. Sam, you’re learning how to do things differently. It’s not dependency.”
“What if I can’t do this? What if I can’t learn to use a prosthesis? Do you really want to have to take care of me again?”
Nancy interrupted, “Is that what has you worried?”
Jim pulled his chair in front of Sam. “Sam, you can be so damn hardheaded, exactly like Lauren and Justin. Although you’re in an unusual situation, that doesn’t make you weak. Right now you’re beginning to heal, and probably still in shock that this happened. Somewhere inside you is your warrior. All you have to do is rediscover her. These folks here will help you unlock it again. But it doesn’t make you weak. Only you can do that to yourself.”
Sam looked at him and saw the love in his eyes. A sense of calm she hadn’t felt in months came over her. She released a long breath. “I’m sorry I told you all not to come by. I didn’t want you to see me this way, broken, and bruised.”
Nancy rested her hand on Sam’s shoulder. “We understand. You need to understand that we needed to see you. To be with you. Haven’t you learned by now, you are one of our kids, Sam? We’re not going to leave you.”
Sam remembered climbing out of the car with her siblings in front of the church. Her older brother opened the door, while she took the twins’ hands and led them up to the heavy doors. She looked back once as her father drove away to park the car. She recalled waiting on the steps outside during the next service for him to return. And the next. She remembered the Klines and another family taking them home, feeding them, and the hushed conversations. The hugs and the tears through the first few weeks. Every time she’d needed them they’d been there for her. “This doesn’t repulse you?”
“No.” They answered simultaneously.
“You’ve done so much,” Sam spoke barely above a once as her father drove away whisper.
