by Torre Wilson
through my veins. The images in the room shake from the vibrations pushing through my head. As the voices and noises begin to fade away, the strength in my legs begin to return. I need to see a doctor, maybe even the lying doctor that released me yesterday. It’s possible I may have a concussion or something. I’ll have to deal with my wife and daughter once I can concentrate. But why would she just leave after what happened to me? The more I think about it the more my head and body aches. I’m not in the condition to focus on that at the moment.
I need my daughter and wife with me now more than ever. I begin walking back into my room and grab the closest clothes I can spot and head towards the front door. I leave my apartment and notice the sun is out but the light is soft, yet the faint light produced by the sun still pierce my eyes. The light burns and forces me to squint as I move down the stairwell. Surprisingly I notice my legs are numb. I can’t feel the impact of the steps on my body and I start to slow down as it becomes more and more apparent. But the more I begin to notice their absence, I suddenly notice them returning. Like a small glitch the world forgot to add but corrected once realized.
I get in my truck and head towards the base to see my primary military doctor; it feels as if the trip is shorter than I remember; like I moved right down the street from the hospital. I vaguely remember seeing anything besides my parking lot and the base entrance. My mind seems to be skipping around.
I walk into the office and tell the receptionist that my head is pounding and that my arm has been bleeding and I just want to see someone. She takes down my information and I move into the waiting room. I lean back in the chair and just look at the people that litter the room. I wonder why they are here today. What could be wrong with them? After some time passes my name is called and I’m directed to the back, where I’m placed in a stranger’s office surrounded by his achievements hanging on the wall staring back at me. The wall is covered with degrees and letters of thanks. I suppose this should lead me to believe that I’ll be in good hands. As I sit down, the door opens behind me, I stand up as the doctor enters.
“Hello, please sit down and make yourself comfortable.”
He tells me as he enters the room and makes his way around his desk while running his fingers across the top of his head. He tries to arrange the few strands of hair he has left to cover his forming bald spot. He looks across his desk at me with the excitement of a corpse as he extends his hand in the obligated manner we’ve all grown to accustom to. After a few shakes and nods he leans back in his huge leather chair. His uniform is old and disheveled but being a doctor in the military tends to make you look that way. I lean back and stare at him; we both sit awkwardly waiting for the other to start this uncomfortable conversation. It should be awkward for me but why is he so unreceptive?
5
Treatment
We stare at each other and then his eyes quickly widen as he finally breaks the silence with a deep breath.
“Well, Staff Sergeant Smith, umm…well I’m Dr. Masella, what seems to be the problem?”
“It’s kind of strange sir; I’m not sure where to begin. I think I may have a concussion from yesterday. See, I got hit by a car……”
“Wait, you were hit by a car?” He interrupts with actual enthusiasm.
“Yes, yesterday, and now I get headaches and I hear pounding noises almost like voices. I just can’t make them out.”
Dr. Masella pulls out a pen and notebook and starts taking notes.
“Okay, well let’s explore this. What happened exactly? How’d you get hit?” Dr. Masella asks as he crosses his legs and taps his pen to his glasses.
“I’m not really sure to tell you the truth. I mean I saw a girl walk in front of a speeding car outside of Wal-Mart and I pushed her out of the way. The car hit me and everything went black after that. I vaguely remember being in an ambulance then I woke up in a hospital room. But when I woke up I felt fine, just a little sore and tired. It felt fishy and I spoke with the doctor but he said I was fine. He informed me that the drugs the hospital gave me were making me feel better. I was pretty tired at the time so I really didn’t ask much about it. He told me if I felt off to come back but I’d rather come here because I know I’d be seen faster and I’m sure I’d be asked to come here eventually anyway.”
“Okay, so your head has been bothering you? Is that it?”
“Well it’s not quite that simple. If I only had headaches then I wouldn’t have come in today. First of all everything looks darker, like light is dull everywhere and this morning when I woke up my arm was bleeding for no reason. It was bleeding where an IV would go but there are no marks from yesterday or anything.”
“Interesting, let me see your arm.”
He walks around the table and takes my arm.
“There are no holes or cuts. How did you see blood?”
He asks as he examines my arm turning it every way possible.
“I’m not sure, but there was blood and sharp little pains. It was rolling out from here.”
“Was the blood new or did it seem old?”
I give him a bewildered look, “It was fresh, I saw it roll down my forearm and I touched it.”
“Hmm, is there anything else going on in your life besides this?” He lets my arm go and moves back to his chair.
“Well I’m having some personal issues but that has nothing to do with this.”
“Maybe it does. Maybe they’re connected. What kind of issues are they?”
“I seriously doubt that my wife and I having minor issues would cause my arm to just bleed out of nowhere and the issues are not incredibly serious. She just kind of left out of nowhere to go on leave but I don’t want to make it bigger than it may be. She may have told me but I just don’t remember”. I reply firmly.
“You know Cory I think you suffered what sounded like a traumatic experience and you seem a little stressed. My recommendation would be for you to go up stairs and talk to Capt. Daniels.” He replies as he starts writing on his clip board.
“Capt. Daniels? Isn’t he the mental health doctor?”
“Yes he is, is that a problem for you?” He answers as he stops writing and peels his eyes up towards me.
“You think this is all in my head?” I aggressively answer.
“Look Cory, I didn’t say that. But I think we should look at all possible scenarios. I’ll give you a referral slip and you can go see him, okay? Because I don’t see anything wrong with you besides stress and before I prescribe you anything I want all the facts. It may be a slight concussion or more but you should speak with him before we go down that road.”
I put my head down and start shaking it.
“Well let’s wait a day or so just in case I start feeling better, would that be ok? I’d really prefer not going up stairs and speaking to him today. I’m just tired and want to rest.”
“If you believe that would help I’ll allow that.” He nods his head in agreement.
“Well is there anything I can have for my headaches; is there something you recommend?”
“Just Excedrin or Advil will be fine for now.”
I leave the doctor’s office irritated. Here are the guys that are supposed to help you when you feel bad. Not refer you to someone else. As I enter my truck, the pain in my arm starts coming back. Wonderful, perfect timing, right after I leave the doctor’s office.
I get in my truck and just sit there and wait for the pain to subside. A flaming sensation enters my lower back. My whole body starts to tingle and my legs go numb. I sit back in my car and try to work through the pain, my eyes tighten. I try to look around and notice the world seems to have changed. Everything seems old, yet new, like I’ve seen it all before but now in a new way. There is a new idea behind every old static item that fights its way into my view. I look at some of the buildings on base and the colors seem altered or not as detailed as they once were. Almost like looking at everything in a picture rather than actually being in its presence. Is this all really in my head or is ther
e more to this puzzle than what my eyes are allowing me to see.
On my drive home I try calling Marie’s cell phone but there is no answer. I leave her a message asking when she decided she was going on leave and why she didn’t tell me. I told her I missed her and wanted her and Katie back so I didn’t feel so alone and confused.
I hang up the phone and see a video rental store and decide to pull in and pick up a movie; it might calm me down so I can try to sort things out. I walk in and it’s like being in a store filled with customers by myself. Almost as if I’m not even a part of their world or they are not a part of mine, they see me and we connect eyes but that’s it. It’s as if there is a secret everyone knows but me. I try to nod and smile at people as they pass by but no emotion is shown, no reactions. What’s stranger than this is that they treat each other in the same manner, like their sole purpose is to walk around and look busy. I feel like I’m Jim Carrey in “The Truman Show”. It’s almost irritating; unless I’m beginning to over analyze my environment. I just shake my head and dismiss everyone and start walking down the aisles but nothing catches my eye. All the movies scream the same things, either plot less action flicks, drama movies with no depth, or the same seen it a thousand times college based spin off comedies. I decide to just leave and go home; I just want to go to bed. I pass a few fast food joints on the way home but I have no
