You Found Me

by Joel Cobbs

  “You okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” I said, my voice unsteady. “Yeah, I'm okay. Let's walk to the bathroom.” The nurse and Dad walked beside as I walked to the bathroom door. They weren't holding me, just there to catch me in case I fell, as well as moving the morphine pump along with me. I shuffled along, taking my time and deep breaths as I went. It was remarkable how something I did everyday took up so much of my energy. I'd been walking for longer than I can remember, and now, today, I feel as if my feet have never touched the ground before. I reached the door and decided to turn the handle. Without realizing it, I felt like I hadn't gone to the bathroom in weeks. I opened the door and went in.

  “Okay,” the nurse said, “let us know when you're done. If you have any kind of trouble there's a string right there you can pull.” She motioned to what looked like a three foot string that randomly came out of the wall. At one end was a small plastic cover, much like the ones on blinds in the windows. At the other end, against the wall, was a sign that said “PULL IF IN NEED OF ASSISTANCE” and “PARA QUE TIRE EN CASO DE NECESIDAD DEASISTENCIA.”

  I lifted the strange “robe” they'd given me and sat down. Never in my life did I expect using the bathroom would hurt so much. The catheter caused it to hurt. I decided to sit there and take my time. First off, I didn't wanna go back in there and lay in the bed where everything around me was a reminder of what happened.

  Sitting there, doing my best to actually use the toilet, I thought about what it was they'd told me. I couldn't see it, any of it. I really had no idea what had happened to me. I remember the drive down, the hotel, the Mexican restaurant next door, but all the details in the middle are fuzzy and kind of out of place. I'm not even sure that makes sense. I stood up. Nothing, not even gas. I opened the door to find Dad and the nurse talking. They stopped and looked at me.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I'm ready for bed.”

  “Okay, let's go.” The two of them helped me back to the bed and helped me get in. It was humiliating. Here I was, nineteen years old, and I was needing help getting to the toilet and to the bed and even eating. It was enough to drive someone mad.

  “Alright,” she said. “You can rest and get your energy up, eat, whatever you wanna do. I'll be back around six and we'll try to walk down the hall. Think you can do that?” I shrugged, then replied:

  “Probably.”

  “I'll see you then” and she left. I thought I was gonna die. This was taking so much energy out of me it was crazy. The nurse from this morning brought me some lunch and offered to help again, but I declined.

  “I'll page you if I decide I need help.”

  “Okay,” he said, and left.

  “I'm gonna run down to the cafeteria and get me something to eat. You gonna be okay while I do that?”

  “Yeah, I think so.” There was a moment of awkward silence.

  “Oh,” I said. “I'm sorry about yesterday.” He waved it off.

  “It's okay. You're under a lot of stress and I probably pushed a little hard. So I'm sorry too.” There was another moment of awkward silence. “We'll be okay, Rob. Don't worry.” I fake smiled.

  “Okay.” He left the room and I found myself alone once again. This time eating was a little easier. They’d brought me some chicken noodle soup, a bread roll, and some kernel corn. The nurse had already opened everything for me, so I had a few minutes of independence. I finished my food and pressed the page button.

  “I'm impressed,” he said when he came in. “You need anything else?”

  “Naw,” I said. “I think I'm good for now.” He took the tray and left the room. There was a TV, but I didn't wanna watch anything. There were some books, but I didn't wanna read anything. Honestly, I wanted to die. I'd never wanted that before, but now I wanted it. I couldn't bring myself to look around at where I'd ended up, all because she'd died on me. I closed my eyes and began to fall asleep.

  ------

  The physical therapist showed up at six, just like she said she would. I'd slept for about three hours, then woke up because I needed to go to the bathroom. Dad gave me the urinal, which I used. There was still a slight burning sensation when I tried to use the urinal, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been. Now, it was tolerable. Dinner had come and gone just like lunch and breakfast. I had soup and corn again, this time with orange juice instead of sweet tea as before. The doctor told me he wanted some fiber in me because the pain medicine would cause my muscles to relax and make it harder to have bowel movements.

  The PT wanted a lot out of me now. I'd gotten some sleep, which hopefully would give me enough energy to do what it was she wanted.

  “Alright,” she said, “we're going to go into the hall and try to walk to the nurse's station. It's a little farther than the bathroom door, but we need to know you can walk a little ways before we let you go. It's gonna be hard the first few times, but it'll get easier as you do it more and more.”

  “Okay,” I said in a shaking voice. I knew I was gonna fall, I just knew it. Twisting my body around was easier than it had been earlier. I was able to get my feet on the ground without fainting, but I couldn't lift myself up. It seemed like every step I took forward, I ended up taking two backwards.

  Two other nurses came in. One was really short, almost midget-like, white and with the blondest hair I have ever seen. The other was taller than me with beautiful dark hair and skin. She was a little on the heavy side, but not in an unattractive way.

  Julie and the other two helped me stand up. It took a minute for the room to stop, then I began to walk. It was more of a shuffle than a walk, neither foot ever leaving the floor all the way. Julie guided me towards the door. The other two girls stayed next to me, making sure they were ready to catch me if I fell. I was a little wibbly-wobbly at first. I felt like I was drunk, like all I knew was I was moving. Nothing else came to mind or was even important. I had a goal, and I wanted to achieve it.

  We made it out of the room. The ICU seemed like a depressing place. People had dark circles under their eyes, tears and mascara flowing down their cheeks. Many had matted hair, oily skin and bloodshot eyes. And these were just the visitors. It felt so strange to see all these people here for their loved ones. Would Mom have done that for me? I thought. I really didn't know. I'm sure she would have just to be there for me. If anything she'd been there for me. As much as I wanted to tell myself “no, she was never there for you and now she never will be”, I knew it was a lie. There were times in my life where I wasn't sure what was going to happen, and she'd show up and help me.

  We passed two rooms, both of them dark with the only lights being the monitors keeping the people alive. I didn't know what was wrong with them, but it had me scared. I didn't wanna end up like that, my life depending on a machine. But even as that thought crossed my mind, I realized that didn't matter. My life had depended on a machine. I was out for a long time, eighteen hours if I remember the doctor correctly. I had to've had trouble breathing or needed some sort of machinery to keep me alive. The morphine pump was a machine, keeping the pain from driving me insane.

  I saw the nurse's station in front of me. It was about eight feet away, but felt like it was miles and miles, each step taking me farther and farther away.

  “I need to rest a minute,” I said.

  “Okay,” Julie said, “Let's just wait for a minute so you can get your energy back.” There was a wheelchair next to me. “Here, sit down.” When I sat in it, I felt like I'd been running a marathon for forever and finally had a chance to breathe. It felt so good to be sitting down. So good, I didn't wanna get up. But I knew I had to. I wasn't going to give up. I wanted to go home and I was gonna do whatever it took to get there.

  “Alright, let's keep going,” I said.

  “You sure?” Julie asked. “You don't need to push yourself too hard if you need to rest.”

  “Naw, I'm good. Let keep going.”

  “Okay, if you're sure.”

 
“I am.” The two nurses helped me get to my feet. We went up slowly, so the room didn't spin like it had before. I was still uneasy on my feet, but not nearly as bad as when I'd walked to the bathroom. This was just from standing up. Standing was gonna take me a while to get used to. I could probably sit on my own, but I knew I couldn't stand. That was gonna take time.

  I shuffled carefully, watching around me and concentrating on where I was going. I didn't want to get so close just to be denied by running into someone. That would be enough to push me over the edge and cause something I really didn't wanna happen.

  The nurses station had a small wall that ran around the desks, computers, and monitors. It couldn't have been over four feet tall, just enough to avoid any runaway wheelchairs or clumsy patients trying to walk. I laid my hands down on the wall and let out a sigh of relief. Halfway there, I told myself. You're doing good.

  “You ready to go back or do you wanna rest a little?”

  “No,” I told her. “No, I'm ready. Let's go back.”

  “Okay then,” Julie said. We all turned around and made our way back to my room.

  Going back turned out to be easier than leaving. There was that sense of accomplishment that I'd done something no one else thought I could do. I was determined to leave. I didn't wanna stay here for weeks and weeks. Days and days was pushing it for me. I just wanted to go home and feel my pillow against my face. I can remember how it felt, so cool and refreshing and giving me the comforting, sweet feeling of safety. We made it back into the room.

  “How'd it go?” Dad asked.

  “Very well,” Julie said. “I'm very impressed. We had to stop and take a breather, but I expected that. You're pretty tough.”

  “Yeah,” Dad said. “It's inherited.” I smiled. Mom had always been that way. She would do things that most people wouldn't do if they were stone drunk, and she would come out fine.

  “I think he's earned some rest.”

  The nurses helped me into the bed. The morphine pump had followed me all over the place and was happy to return to where it'd started. I felt the same way. I was happy to be back in the bed, even if it wasn't mine. I closed my eyes.

  “You gonna be okay, sugar?” one of the nurses asked. I smiled.

  “Yes. I’m fine, thank you.”

  “Okay, hun. If you need anything let us know.”

  “I will.” The nurses all left and it was and Dad once again.

  “There’s some vending machines down the hall. I’m gonna get me something to drink. You want anything?”

  “Naw, I think I’m okay.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah, I'll be good.”

  “Okay.” I began to drift. I know he said something else, but it was too late. I was so tired, so exhausted, I had no idea what it was he said. It might've been important, might've not. I didn't care. I just sighed and fell asleep, the only place I realized I was really comfortable. Away from everything that was bothering me and driving me nuts. A dreamless void.

  Chapter Three

  I slept hard that night. It had been an exhausting day, one that took almost all of my energy even though all I'd done was walk around. I had no energy, was constantly tired, and felt like I would be sick every other moment. When I fell asleep, the worst of the worst happened.

  I started falling. I didn't know where I was. Everything was dark. There was no one there, no one to catch me. There was nothing. I felt helpless. I screamed. No one heard me. It was as if I meant nothing to the world and was now part of the void.

  I don't know if I ever landed. I've always been told, though never believed, that when you dream you're falling, if you hit the bottom you die. I don't know if I hit the bottom or not, but I figured if I was still alive then I didn't. Once again, a myth remains a myth.

  When I woke up, I realized I was still in the ICU, still very much alive, and still on the pain medicines. I loved the pain medicines. It gave me that numb sensation, made everything fuzzy. I loved the feeling. I didn't want it to go away. I loved feeling as if there were no feelings. No reasons, sorrows, pain, suffering. Nothing.

  It was still early, the sun barely shining through the window. It burned my eyes when I first saw it. I didn't wanna be up at this time, but also knew there was a possibility I could go home today. It would be a long drive, probably longer than it had been on the way down.

  The nurse came in with my food. It was the same as yesterday, only this time an extra sausage patty. I strained to feed myself again, but he helped me when I asked. The routine was the same as yesterday's. Dad woke up and went down to the cafeteria. I finished my food and thanked the nurse.

  I wanted to go home today. I couldn't handle the thoughts of being here any longer. Every minute of every hour made it harder and harder to be here. When Dad returned, the doctor came in with him.

  “Good morning, Robert,” Dr. Lowery said.

  “Good morning.”

  “How're you feeling today?”

  “Well, I ain't dead.” He smiled

  “That's fortunate. I spoke with Julie, your PT, and she gave me an update on how you're doing. I must say I'm rather impressed. She said you pushed yourself pretty hard, but you did okay. Think you're up to getting out of here today?”

  “I hope so. I'm kinda sick of being stuck in bed.” He laughed.

  “I'm sure. You should be able to leave in a few hours if you'd like.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Dad said. I think he was as homesick as I was. This had been rough on both of us, but I think it was just as rough on him. While I had a comfy bed and morphine, he slept in one of the chairs in the room. I knew it couldn't have been easy for him.

  “Yeah, sounds good to me too.”

  “Alright. We're gonna help you bathe, remove the morphine drip, and try to get you ready to go. You should be able to leave just after lunch.” I was drowsy, and had trouble keeping up with what he said, but I wasn't letting that get in my way. I wanted to go home and that was that. “Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Good. The nurses will be around to help you. Wish you the best of luck.”

  “Thank you, sir.” He smiled and left the room. “Well,” Dad said, “that's some good news.” “Yeah, I suppose so.”

  “Lunch'll be around eleven or so, so we may make it home before dark.”

  “That'll be good. I'm kinda sick of it here.” Dad gave a nervous laugh.

  “Yeah, I understand completely.”

  ------

  The nurses came in two waves. The first came to help me get undressed and bathe me.

  The morphine was removed first. I watched as they pulled the needle out and wrap it around the machine. The IV came next. I wanted to watch, but I couldn't. I couldn't look. When I watched them remove the morphine drip, it took a lot for me to avoid the horrible sight of my right wrist.

  I still couldn't remember what it was I did. I'd spent a lot of time trying to figure that out. I wondered if maybe the dream of me falling had something to do with it. Maybe there was something I was missing; maybe I do remember it, I was just having trouble finding it inside me, as if it's being blocked from me for some reason.

  When the morphine was removed, the next thing was bathing. Honestly, that didn't make me feel comfortable at all. I was so used to doing it myself. Now, I had two nurses there. One removed the garments they'd given me, the other took them and placed them in a bag. There I was, before God and everyone, nude.

  I looked terrible. I looked sickly, pale from the blood loss and skinny from the hospital food or lack of appetite. I felt like I was gonna cry just from what I was seeing. They informed me they would have to remove the bandages to make sure I was cleaned enough. That bothered me, in more ways than one.

  First, the bandages would be coming off of whatever it was I'd done to myself. Second, whatever was under them would be visible to everyone. Third, I would have to look at myself, see what it was I couldn't remember doing; what it was that had landed me in the place I now was. I swal
lowed passed the lump that had formed in my throat. I knew I was gonna cry. There was no doubt about it. The thoughts of how I looked, what I was gonna see, would send me over the edge.

  The bandages came off slowly, carefully, and painfully. I have a lot of arm hair, more than most people, and that's what it was that hurt. The pain of the bandages taking away not only my hair, but my dignity as well. I grunted and moaned. I tried to keep myself from yelling from the pain, but it wasn't working. The morphine had already started wearing off. They didn't give me any before they removed it, leaving me in touch with reality. I didn't wanna be in reality, I wanted to be elsewhere, somewhere far away from here.

  I started crying. My wrist felt like it was gonna explode, like I had just been stabbed hard, reopening old wounds to make room for new ones. I didn't want any of that. I just wanted the pain to go away. I was doing fine before this, before all this started consuming me and driving me farther and farther away.

  As they pulled it off, I screamed. The pain was intense. It didn't subside either. It stayed with me, burning me with a passion so strong I knew there was nothing I could do. The tears were pouring down my face.

  “Make it stop!” I screamed. “Just make it stop!”

  “You're doing just fine, Rob,” someone said. “You can do this.”

  “No. No I can’t. Make it all go away. It hurts so much.”

  “I know it does,” another said. “But you can do it. Just hang on.” I was so blinded by the pain I couldn't tell who was talking to me and who wasn't. It was as if everyone had meshed into one voice, forming a melting pot of sounds. “I can't do it! Don't make me do it!”

  “We have to, Rob. Take a deep breath.” I struggled to. I was grinding my teeth from the pain. “In your nose and out your mouth. In your nose and out your mouth.” I did as was told and could feel myself begin to relax a little. The pain seemed tolerable now. It wasn't nearly as bad as it'd been just seconds ago. Seconds ago, I just knew I was dying, my life being taken away from me much sooner than I wanted. I looked down. I began to cry harder.