by Roslyn Bane
“You do. Tell me the truth.”
Kris paced around the room. She shuddered as memories came back in bits and pieces. She recalled running to the wrecked helicopter and crawling inside. The smells of fuel and blood and dirt. She remembered seeing the copilot was dead. She recalled taking the scalpel and making the cut. Kris stopped pacing. She felt dizzy. She heard the major scream. Oh dear God. She felt everything. Kris shouted, “I cut off her leg,” and burst into tears. “I cut off her leg, and she screamed, and screamed, and screamed.” Kris collapsed into a chair and wept.
A few minutes later Kris became aware Renee was sitting next to her, her arm draped across her shoulders. A box of tissues had been moved closer. Kris slowly brought herself under control. Eventually, she reached for the tissues. She wiped at her eyes, and blew her nose. After amassing a large pile of tissues, she stood and deposited them in the trash can. “May I have some water?”
“Yes.” Renee retrieved a bottle of water from the small refrigerator and passed it to her. Kris was unable to hold the bottle and open it. She placed the bottle between her knees and tried to unscrew it to no avail. After several unsuccessful attempts, she put it back on the table and walked away.
“Would you like me to open that for you?”
“I would appreciate that.”
“Why didn’t you ask for help?”
“Because it’s ridiculous that I can’t even open a water bottle.”
“You have an injury. Why would you think needing help is ridiculous? Don’t you expect your patients to use their resources?” She handed the opened bottle to Kris “Sit down and let’s talk.”
Kris stared at her, nodded slowly, and walked to the window, staring out while she drank greedily. She returned to her seat, set the bottle on the table and rubbed at the back of her neck. “I’m ready.”
“Tell me more about what happened with Major Davies.”
“She was trapped in the wreckage. To get her out I had to cut the leg off.”
“The leg?”
“Major Davies’ leg. Her right one.” Kris took several large swallows of water. She related the story she’d tried so hard to forget.
“Why cut her leg off?”
“Her leg was pinned, badly mangled. I couldn’t see it, but I could reach my hand down into it. I could feel exposed bone, jagged edges, torn muscle. There were insurgents attacking again. There was no way to get her free. So I did what had to be done to get her free.”
“And you saved her life.”
Kris was silent. She picked up her water, drank, and studied the label.
“Don’t you think you helped her?”
“I got her free.”
“If you hadn’t gotten her free she would have been killed by the enemy or succumbed to her injuries, correct?”
“Yes.”
Dr. Abbott continued to press Kris, “Why the rush to get her out?”
“I had no choice. We started taking fire. The medevac chopper was waiting. And she was unstable. She was running out of time. So we gave her another shot of morphine and a dose of Versed.”
“Versed?” Renee challenged her, wanting Kris to remember the details.
“To make her forget. I couldn’t put her to sleep, we didn’t have the time or space. We gave her the medicine, and removed the leg.”
“And she did well with it?”
“I don’t know if she survived her other injuries. There was blood from under her helmet. I remember there were broken ribs, several of them probably. She may have had internal injuries. I didn’t have time to access that. I don’t know how she’s doing.”
“That’s not what I meant. During the procedure, did Major Davies do all right?”
Kris looked down, studied her hands, and sweat rose on her back. Her chest tightened, her breathing quickened and grew coarse. She gasped for air and tugged at her collar. She craned her neck around, throwing her head back trying to take a deep breath. Her heart raced, and pounded hard enough in her chest she thought it would explode.
“Doctor Matthews, how did the major respond?” Kris jumped up and was half way across the room before Renee added, “Commander, what happened? Tell me what happened.”
Kris shouted “She screamed! On and on and on.”
“How long did she scream?”
Kris shouted, “The whole time!”
“Are you sure? I would think that most people would have passed out.”
“No, she kept…” Kris bit down on her lip, stared off into the distance trying to remember. After several seconds she corrected herself, “No. She had passed out.”
“So, she didn’t scream the entire time?”
“She couldn’t have.”
“The scream you hear at night, does it sound like her?”
Kris looked at the psychologist and with tears in her eyes, whispered “Yes.” She sat down, bowed her head and shook.
“I know this is difficult for you. You’ve done well. I have one more question for you before we’re done. If you can’t answer it now, I want you to think about it until we meet in two days.”
Kris sighed. “Okay.”
“What hand did you hold the saw in?”
Kris looked down at her lifeless left hand, saw it holding the saw, the smear of blood across her fingers, the spray of marrow and bone chips coating the glove. She heard the major scream. She stuttered “M…my left.”
***
Kris slung her bag over her shoulder, placed the key in the lock, jiggled it until the lock sprung and pushed the front door open. Sighing, she swung it closed, leaned against it momentarily before turning the deadbolt. She shuffled the few steps to the closet placing her bag inside and hung up her hat. Glancing around the kitchen, she saw several dishes on the counter and tabletop, a pot on the stove. Damn you. “Thanks for leaving me a mess, Shelly.” She filled a glass with water, sipping from it as she walked to the bedroom, and saw that the bed was unmade, sheets rumpled.
She shook her head in disgust and walked to the bathroom. She turned on the shower, and undressed while the water warmed. She checked it before stepping in. The water felt great coursing over her body, and the muscle tightness she had throughout the afternoon slowly faded.
It was the major screaming. It haunts me. She couldn’t have stayed conscious. She shouldn’t remember, thank God. Now that I have that answered maybe I’ll sleep tonight. But what about Shelly? Was that really an assault? I mean she’s been rough before, but this was different. Like she was angry. Like she wanted to hurt me. But was it an assault? I came. I need to think about this. Maybe counseling. I need to end this. How the hell will she react to that? Why is she like this now? She lathered slowly, and shampooed and conditioned her hair. It took a while one-handed, but the warm water made it more enjoyable. When the water started to chill, she turned it off, toweled off and slipped into a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top.
Crossing into the kitchen, she looked at the mess. “Damn it, Shelly. Why did you leave this mess for me? Can you not do anything to help out? I’m not your maid.” She opened the fridge, pulled out a salad, and ate it quickly while standing at the counter. She placed a lime slice in a glass of water and sipped. Scowling she cleaned up the plates and glasses from the table and counter, loading them into the dishwasher.
Something else was wrong, she just didn’t know what. She topped off her water glass, before crossing to the bedroom. Disgusted, she went to the guest room, locked the door and collapsed onto the bed. Within seconds she was sound asleep. She awoke in the morning, she was still alone. Where had Shelly been all night? And do I even really care?
Chapter Twenty-five
KRIS LEFT THE PHYSICAL therapy clinic, her arm trembling with fatigue. She was glad to be free of the brace and sling. She felt an ache all the way up to her shoulder. She hurried down the hall to the group therapy session, pausing for a moment to collect her thoughts before she entered the room.
She glanced around the room recognizing everyone, and
was pleased to see Sam but stopped short when she noticed the hard look on the major’s face. Kris bypassed the seat next to her and took a seat directly opposite instead.
A young lieutenant walked to the front of the room, “I’m Lieutenant Jennifer Brown, a clinical psychologist. Commander Abbott couldn’t be here this afternoon, so I’ll be filling in.” As the session started, Sam remained unusually stiff in her seat. Kris watched as the major stole repeated surreptitious glances at the clock. Her leg would occasionally start to bounce and she would grab it with her hand and squeeze until the bouncing stopped. Over and over the cycle repeated. Kris and Sam startled and looked up when the counselor called Sam.
“Major, you’ve been quiet this afternoon. Is there anything you would like to talk about?”
“No. It’s been a rough week. I have a lot on my mind.”
“That’s what we’re here for. If you want to talk about it.”
Kris looked around the room, her eyes drawn again to Sam sitting across from her. She had a sense of déjà vu but couldn’t quite grasp the thought before it floated away. Sam was staring at her, and that caused a strange, unfamiliar feeling in her gut. She had to consciously avoid rubbing the ache in her stomach.
“No, I don’t,” Sam replied firmly.
“Fair enough,” the counselor said.
“Is your leg hurting?” Kris asked. “You’re bouncing it a lot. Are you uncomfortable?”
“No. I’m ready to go. I am tired of being in this place. I want to get out on my own again. But the docs don’t think I’m ready yet. My strength and balance aren’t good enough. I need to get better and find a place to live. I want to have something lined up so I can be ready to move in as soon as possible.”
Lieutenant Brown asked, “And that’s important to you? To get back on your own?’”
Kris almost chuckled at the look of incredulity that crossed Sam’s face as she stared at the young woman.
“Of course, it’s important. It would make me feel nor—” Sam bit down on her lip and grimaced.
“Finish your thought, Sam. Were you going to say normal?”
Sam was quiet before barely nodding her head. “Yes. It would help me to feel normal.”
“You are normal. Everyone in this room is normal.”
Kris watched as Sam glanced around the room and looked at everyone’s faces. “I’m sorry. I don’t feel that way inside. Not to myself.” She tapped herself on the chest. “I left part of myself over there. I don’t mean just my leg. But something inside is…gone. And I don’t know what it is.”
“It’s hope.” A young woman, perhaps in her early twenties, her face heavily scarred and stubby hair emerging from the wounded side of her head, spoke. “Your hope for a future is gone. A future where you were in control. Or at least you thought you were. You knew what you were going to do each day. You had a plan for what your future would hold not only in a year but probably in ten years, twenty. And now that’s gone. Right now, you can’t even walk out of this building without checking in with someone. And you have to get a ride instead of taking your own car. What do you drive, Major?” The woman grinned a lopsided smile that almost looked maniacal, but her eyes sparkled. “I bet it’s a Mustang. All speed and muscle.”
Sam looked surprised. “It is. But how?”
“How did I know? It was a guess. But if you have a ‘stang it’s black. You don’t need flashy red or look-at-me yellow. You are in charge. The world was at your fingertips. Now you wonder if you’ll drive it again.”
“That’s enough,” the counselor interrupted.
“No. I want to answer that.” Sam looked at the counselor before she looked back at the young woman. “You’re right. That car is my freedom. I can go where I want to. My chopper made it all possible. But the odds are against me getting in the air again. Oh, I’ll try. I am trying. I’m doing everything in my power to get up there again. But the car is me. Just me.”
Kris interjected, “Because you’re strong in it. Powerful.” Sam nodded. “You still are strong. We all are. We’re finding a new strength. A new courage. We need more time to discover this new part of ourselves and see how strong we can be.”
Their eyes locked across the room. Kris stared into the deep green eyes and felt her heart start to race. Sweat formed on the back of her neck as a feeling of dread overcame her. She broke eye contact and looked down at her feet, and repeatedly clenched her fists. She sat quietly trying to fight back what felt like a panic attack as the voices of the others carried on around her.
When the session was over Kris hurried from the room. Her one thought was to get home quickly and shake this feeling off. She was nearly outside when she heard her name called. She stopped and turned, watching as the major limped toward her. “Are you okay? You looked like…well, it looked like you were going to get sick. Are you okay to drive?”
“I’m fine. I needed to get outside. Like you said.”
“Let’s go outside. What made you sick?” Sam opened the door for her and followed her outside. Sam placed her hand on Kris’ back and guided her over to a shaded bench. They sat, and Sam reached out and took Kris’ left hand. “Your hand is shaking. When did you get the brace off?”
“A few days ago. It’s weak.” She poked at the muscles which had gone soft and shrunk. “I have a long way to go.”
“But you’re getting there. That’s was a big step…getting out of the brace.”
“Yes. In a lot of ways. Why were you nervous today?”
“I have a lot of stuff bottled up. I think if I let it out in there…well, they probably would lock me up in the psych unit.” Sam stared at her. “You’re a doc. I probably shouldn’t have told you that.”
“You have to talk to someone, Sam.”
“I know. But there are some kids in there. They can’t see their leaders falling apart.”
“You are not falling apart. And we’re all in this together. Did you ever think by not showing any weakness, some of those young women will compare themselves to you and feel even weaker? They might think that they don’t have the necessary strength and courage?”
Sam looked at her. “No. I didn’t. I’m not sure I agree with that either. It’s not in my nature to admit fear…or weakness.”
“School of hard knocks?”
Sam clenched her jaw. “Yeah. You could say that.” She took a deep breath. “Does it look like you’ll get back to being a doctor soon? I mean, I know you’re a doc. I meant operating. Do they think you’ll make a full recovery?”
“I know I will.”
“You sound confident. Good. That’s half the battle.”
“Are you winning that battle, Sam?”
“Touché. Apparently not as well as I should.” Sam grew quiet for several seconds. “When you were hurt, did anyone else get hurt?”
Kris hesitated, “I don’t recall all the details. I don’t believe so. From what was explained to me it doesn’t sound like it.”
“I lost some of my crew.” Sam stared off into the distance. “They were good men. I wonder why they were killed and I was allowed to survive.”
“That’s survivor’s guilt. We’ve talked about it in the group sessions.”
“I know. Although, sometimes, at night they haunt me. And I wonder why did I get a second chance? Will I be able to make anything out my life now that I’m not whole? I’ve talked about it with Renee, but there it is. I feel guilty they’re gone. I can’t quit, but sometimes I want to. I wish…”
“You wish what?”
“Sometimes I wish I was gone.” Kris jerked, and Sam held out her hands, “Don’t get alarmed. That’s happening less and less. At night, sometimes I am afraid, that I’ll not be able to get through this. I wonder if you docs realize how scary that is?”
“I think I have a good idea.”
Sam looked at Kris’ arm, her gaze drifting up to meet Kris’ eyes. “I guess you do. Although you have a good idea what your future holds. Most of us in that room don’t know that.
”
“You’ll get a better idea as time moves along. Trust me on this. Give yourself more time. Losing your leg is life changing. Right now you see what you’ve lost. Not what you’ve gained.”
“What I’ve gained? You’re right. I don’t see where I’ve gained anything.”
“It will come. Trust me.”
“What have you gained?”
“It’s hard to describe. I feel it though. And our injuries have given us the chance to meet. I wouldn’t have met you otherwise. I‘ll take all the good I can gather to help get me through the bad days.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Tell me something. One of the first things I want to do when I get out of here is to go see my crew members’ families. Do you think that’s okay? I don’t want to stir up any pain. Still, I need to know that they’re doing okay.”
“I understand, and that’s noble of you.”
“It’s not noble. I need to know their families are okay.”
“And if they’re not?”
“I’ll do what I can to make it better.”
“Like I said, that’s noble.”
Sam’s phone buzzed, and she removed it from her pocket. “Sorry. I have a meeting with my career liaison. I have to go.”
“Sure thing.” As Sam stood up to leave, Kris reached out and took her hand. “It’ll get better. It might be awhile before it gets easier, but it will get better.”
“Thanks. See you around.”
Kris watched as Sam walked away. The woman was holding something inside. A deep anger perhaps? Sitting quietly she reviewed their conversation. Sam was stable. She didn’t fear that she would hurt herself intentionally. There was rage there, barely under the surface. She hoped Sam found a way to let it out. Her own phone buzzed. With a smile on her face she answered the phone, “Hi, Mom. Yes, I’m doing well. You heard right. My arm is moving. It’s weak, but it’s moving. It’s a long story.” She stood and walked to her car.
***
Kris and Shelly sat at the dinner table, “The therapy on my arm is helping. It’s weak, but it is moving again. I’m getting more shoulder motion back. The hand strength is coming along. I have a tremor in it, fortunately, it’s lessening. So I feel good.”
