by K. Leah
We follow Caroline down a long hallway until we reach a bank of elevators. While waiting for the elevator to arrive, I thank Caroline for her help, and she wishes me good luck before the doors close.
Stopping at floor seven, we step off and enter in through a restricted area. There is a series of waiting rooms along one side of the hall, and across from it looks like a nurse's desk. Mark directs us into one of the waiting rooms.
The room is nice. There is a TV in the corner, some magazines laying on end tables, a few chairs, and a couple of couches. The window looks out over the city, but I don’t care anything about it right now. All I want to do is talk to a doctor, a nurse, anyone who can give me information about Clara.
“Let’s have a seat until someone comes in,” Mark says and motions toward a chair.
I’m too anxious to sit and find myself pacing the room for the next 20 minutes. Mark sits quietly with his hands folded in his lap and asks me from time to time if he can get me anything. I tell him no, and he respects my privacy. Finally, after what seems like forever, a man in green scrubs walks into the room holding a folder.
“Is there a Mr. Reese in this room?”
I greet him quickly with a handshake. “Yes, I’m Brady Reese.”
“I’m Dr. Thackerson. Miss Willet is out of surgery, and she’s doing great. She’s headed to recovery right now, and you should be able to see her in a little while.”
A relieved breath escapes my lungs, and I can feel my heart beating again.
“How is she? I ask.
“Aside from the obvious scratches and bruises, she has a concussion. She also has two broken tibias in her lower legs. Fortunately, they were fairly clean breaks and only needed a cast for each. She had some internal bleeding which we discovered was a ruptured spleen, so we removed it in surgery. Surprisingly, everything was easy to fix, and she should recover nicely from her injuries. She was a very, very lucky lady.”
I allow the tension in my shoulders to recede slowly. Now that I know Clara is going to be okay, I can finally relax a bit. I can’t help but think that this was more than luck, though. I am convinced God’s hand reached down and protected her during this whole disaster.
“Thank you so much, Dr. Thackerson. You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that she’s going to be fine. I’ve never been more scared in my life.” I reach out to shake his hand, and he pats my shoulder with his other hand. Smiling as he grips my hand in his, he says, “She’s going to be okay. I’ll send the nurse to get you when you can see her.”
After he leaves the room, I fall into the chair and lean my head back against the wall, closing my eyes. All the emotion I’ve felt for the past few hours comes spilling out of me. No sound escapes me; I just let the tears stream down my cheeks.
Mark places his hand on my shoulder and gives a reassuring squeeze. “She’s okay. She’s going to be okay,” I say.
A half-hour later, a nurse comes into the waiting room. “Mr. Reese. I can take you to see Miss Willet now. Will you come with me?”
I stand and wipe my hands over my face. I look at Mark. Smiling, he says, “Go take care of her.” He reaches into his pocket and hands me a small card. “Here’s my contact info. If you need anything, just let me know,” I thank him and tuck the card into my pocket.
I follow the nurse out of the room and down a hallway, through several sets of doors until she motions me into a room. She pulls aside the curtain and Clara is there in the hospital bed, with all kinds of wires and monitors hooked to her. She’s sleeping, and even though she looks bruised and battered, she is absolutely beautiful… because she’s alive.
28
Waking Up is Hard to Do
Clara
My first thought is that I hear strange noises around me and I feel… heavy…weighted down. Opening my eyes, I see machines everywhere. I try to think of what is going on, but I can’t quite make sense of it. I’m still not fully awake. I feel so groggy, and it’s hard to focus on anything but the sounds. However, I am very aware that someone is holding my hand. I turn my head enough to see a tuft of familiar brown hair buried into the crook of his arm, on the side of my bed. I squeeze his hand enough to let him know I’m awake because I barely have the strength to speak or move. As soon as he feels my hand move, his head pops up.
“Clara…..”
He pulls my hand to his lips, gently kissing it, as his eyes glisten with unshed tears. I look into his tired eyes thinking there has never been a more welcome sight. I thought I might never see his face again.
“Clara… I love you so much, and I’m so happy you are okay,” he says.
He sits on the edge of my bed, brushes my hair from my forehead, and trails his fingers down the side of my face. I welcome the familiar warmth of his touch.
I’m able to whisper a crackled, “You’re here,” but my eyelids are heavy, and it’s hard to keep them open.
“There is no other place I would be,” he tells me and leans in, gently kissing my forehead.
“I’m so tired,” I tell him. He smiles and shakes his head as if he expected me to say that, then responds. “Rest, baby. I’m here… close your eyes and rest.” The heaviness of my eyes takes over once again, and I fall back into a deep slumber.
♦♦♦
Later, I am woken by the pokes and prods of a sweet looking older lady in scrubs, standing by my bed. Pressing her fingers to the inside of my wrist, she smiles and says, “Well, hello there. I’m glad to see you’re finally awake.”
“Wha….. what happened?” I manage to ask.
“You’re in the hospital. You were in a plane crash, but you are going to be fine.” She makes a note in my chart, and then continues, “You have two casts on your legs, and you had surgery to repair a ruptured spleen, but we will keep the pain under control now that you are awake. For now, rest as much as you can. Your body needs it to heal.”
I look around her to find Brady at the foot of my bed, giving me a reassuring smile. The nurse follows my gaze. She smiles at Brady kindly, “This handsome man here told us you were getting a little restless in your sleep, so I need to check your bandages to make sure everything is alright.” She performs a quick check and then looks at the machine beeping beside my bed. Brady walks around to the other side of the bed. He sits and props his elbows on the edge of the bed, not taking his eyes off me.
“Everything looks good, Miss Willet. How’s your pain level right now? On a scale of 1 to 10?” she asks.
I have to stop and think about that a moment. “I don’t feel any pain at the moment. I just feel…. strange… and heavy,” I tell her.
“That’s good,” she responds. “You are on a high-power morphine IV drip right now, so you should be sitting pretty for the next few hours, but you let me know if anything changes.” I give her a nod, and she leaves the room.
Brady reaches for my free hand and kisses it. My mind is so full of questions, but I can’t seem to form a coherent thought right now. “I have so many questions…. but… I’m just so spacey right now,” I tell him. Looking around the room, the window is dark, so I’m guessing that it’s night time, or maybe it’s early in the morning. Who knows?
“Clara, there’s plenty of time to talk later. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right by your side, so don’t worry about any details right now.” I guess assurance is what I needed. Brady is here, and although I feel all kinds of strange, I mostly just want to sleep. His reassurance helps me fall back into slumber once again.
♦♦♦
When I wake up, the sun is shining through the window, and I’m more aware of my surroundings. My head is throbbing, and I feel every ache and pain ripple through my body. I try to swallow, but my mouth feels like it’s stuffed with cotton balls - I would fight someone for a drink of water right now. Turning my head, I immediately see Brady sleeping in the chair in the corner. He is reclining backward, fingers laced together across his stomach. He’s dressed in his suit pants and dress shirt unbuttoned at the neck, with h
is tie pulled loose; his hair is disheveled. His head tilted to one side, and I notice the stubble on his face. I briefly wonder how long I’ve been here for him to grow that much of a beard. Pushing that thought away, I turn my attention back to Brady. Stubble or not, he is still so handsome, and I want to watch him for a few moments.
“Brady.” I manage to speak his name loud enough that it wakes him.
He opens his eyes, and that gorgeous smile greets me.
Stretching his arms over his head, he says, “Hey, beautiful,” as he stands and walks the few steps over to my bed. He leans over, kisses me on the forehead, and sits by me on the bed.
“How are you feeling this morning?” he asks.
“My throat is so dry. Can you get me some water?”
He grabs the large cup sitting beside my bed and places the straw against my mouth. I take a long drink. And then I drink some more. I don’t think I’ve ever tasted water this good. Once I’ve had my fill, he sits the cup back on the table and grabs my hand in both of his.
His hands are so warm and familiar. I love his hands; how big they seem when holding my smaller ones. I have so many questions about my predicament, but I want to know about him first.
“Brady, you look so tired. Were you able to sleep at all? I know those chairs are horribly uncomfortable.”
“Clara, you are the one in a hospital bed, and you are asking about me?” he chuckles. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine. I want to know about you. How are you feeling?”
I take a moment to assess the aches in my legs and the stinging pain in my abdomen.
“I’m so sore. It hurts all over.”
He reaches over to press a button on my bed. He sees me watching, and says, “The nurse told me to call her when you woke up. She said you would probably need some more pain meds. She’ll be in here soon.”
I wish I could sit up and give him a big hug right now, but this body is not moving at all until something numbs the pain. The touch of his hand will have to be good enough for now. A few minutes later, the nurse comes into the room.
“Good morning, Miss Willet. I’m so glad to see you are awake and alert this morning. You ready for some pain medicine?” she asks me.
“Yes… pleeeeease,” I drag out.
The nurse walks over to the IV hookup beside my bed and pushes a needle into a port. Within minutes, I feel warmth wash through my body. This must be good stuff to take effect that quick.
“This is probably going to make you sleepy again, but that’s not a bad thing. We will keep the IV meds going this morning and wean you to some oral meds this afternoon. Okay, honey?” she says and pats my arm.
Closing my eyes, I feel Brady’s hand brush over my face again, and he kisses my cheek.
“Sleep, baby. Get your rest.”
I try to stay awake to talk to Brady, but it’s too hard to keep my eyes open. I want to be with him, and I have a million questions. But, Mr. Sandman is calling my name, and I finally relinquish the fight and give in to sleep once again.
♦♦♦
After what feels like round six of this crazy sleeping-waking pattern, I want to stay awake, so I will myself to deal with the pain rather than take another round of IV medication. It’s not quite as bad now - more of a dull ache now – and I think I can manage with some high-power ibuprofen. Looking around the room, I don’t see Brady, and I panic briefly, wondering where he is. I let a few minutes pass thinking maybe he just went down the hall, or to the cafeteria to grab something to eat. After 10 minutes, I can’t take it anymore, so I push the nurse call button, and her voice comes in over the speaker in my room.
“Miss Willet, do you need something?” she asks.
“Ummm, yes, do you know where the gentleman normally in my room is?”
“Yes, dear. He’s in the waiting room, talking with your parents. I’ll let him know that you’re awake.”
As I wait for Brady and my parents, I try to process what has happened to me. Who could have imagined everything that took place in the last…what, 24 hours? … I’m not even sure of what day it is. I try to recall the chain of events that landed me in this hospital bed. I remember sitting in first class, just a few rows back from the front of the plane. One of the luxuries I have of flying so much is that I build up frequent flyer miles like nobody’s business. A flight attendant had just served me a glass of water.
The next thing I remember is the pilot’s voice coming over the intercom, telling us to buckle our seatbelts and remain seated. He was so calm I didn’t think it was anything other than a case of turbulence. A short time passed, and he came back over the intercom to inform passengers of possible engine failure and warning they may have to make an emergency landing soon. That’s when the fear started creeping into my veins. I didn’t know what the pilot meant by “emergency landing.” Is this bad? I wondered to myself.
The plane started bouncing a little more, and a few seconds later the emergency air masks dropped from of the ceiling. That’s when I knew this was not a good situation. I started praying and asking God to keep us safe. The cabin shook, and I felt my hands gripping the armrests. It was eerily quiet on the plane, despite our dire circumstances. I think everyone was afraid to speak, in fear of what might come out of our mouths. Everything seemed so surreal. Could this be happening? However, as the bouncing grew worse, the louder everyone became. People started crying as the pilot told us to prepare for an emergency landing and it might get very bumpy. There was no one in the seat next to me, but I could hear the whimpers of a lady in the row behind me.
Despite the fact that passengers are not supposed to have cell phones turned on while in the air, I dug my phone out of my purse and dialed Brady’s number. I didn’t care. I needed to talk to him. It rang and rang, then went to voicemail. I immediately dialed again. Again, voicemail. I began to panic; if the plane was indeed crashing, I wanted to talk to him one last time. I held the phone in my hand like it was the last lifeline I had.
I remember hearing a loud pop and the plane took a diving plunge. Ohmygosh!!!!! I thought, We’re going to crash!!!
I hit redial one last time. Brady finally picked up, but I could barely hear him. The line was full of static and…….
I must have passed out before impact.
When I woke up, I smelled smoke and heard screams and cries. I felt something heavy in my lap, and when I fully opened my eyes, I was practically holding a row of seats. I don’t remember feeling a lot of pain. I guess my body was in so much shock that it never registered. I tried pushing it off, but it was too heavy to move or lift. There was a man sitting in one of the seats. I cried out, “Sir! Sir! Are you okay sir?” When I reached my hand around to touch him, he didn’t move as I pushed and poked him. “Sir… can you hear me!” but still no response from him.
I kept trying to push and shove the seat, but it was not budging. I heard voices all around me. It seemed like an eternity to sit there, wondering my fate…wondering about all the people around me. Was someone coming to help us? Smelling the smoke, I feared the plane would explode any moment. Then I heard the sirens. At first, they were just a faint sound but progressively got louder. I knew someone was coming to help us.
When three people appear at my door, it pulls me from my memories. Brady stands in the doorway while my parents rush to my side. He hasn’t met my parents yet, but I guess that is taken care of now.
“Oh, Clara… I’m so thankful you are okay.” Mom pulls back with tears in her eyes, “I am so sorry this happened, dear.”
Dad steps up behind her, and she moves to the side, so he can kiss the top of my head. “How are you feeling, dear?” he asks.
“I’m pretty sore, but everyone says I’m going to be fine.” Mom is covering her mouth, trying to hide her horror at the situation. I smile at her from the bed, “So, I see you’ve met Brady,” I say, trying to lighten the mood. My parents turn to look at Brady standing in the doorway.
“Yes, we have. He has been so helpful getting us down here t
o see you,” Dad says. “I think you have a fine man, here.” Brady smiles and nods his head in thanks.
Everyone takes a seat and listens as I recount my experience to them. The entire time, Mom clutches my hand tightly in hers, while Dad sits on the edge of my bed, and Brady at the foot. Hearing myself talk about the crash seems surreal. I still don’t feel like it happened, except for the fact that I have two large boulders on my legs, a big bandage on my stomach, and a raging headache. Speaking of, as I try to sit up in bed, I’m reminded of the incision as an “ow” escapes my lips.
While we are talking, there is a knock at the door, and then a big bouquet of flowers appears. Angie peeks out from behind the arrangement and gives a sheepish smile. “Can I come in?” she asks.
Brady smiles and motions her into the room, taking the flowers as she enters the room. Charles follows close behind. Angie walks to the bed and tentatively grabs my hand.
“Hey, Clara… how are you?” she asks.
“I’ll be okay. Come… sit.” I tell her as I pat the bed. “I can’t believe you are here!” All the men gather in the corner of the room while Angie and Mom sit on each side of me.
“When the lady from the airline called me… I just… I about lost it. Clara, I was so scared,” Angie says, and I can see her eyes glisten with unshed tears.
I tell Angie and Charles my version of the whole ordeal - although a little briefer this go around. Afterward, we visit and chat for a while until a nurse brings me dinner. I pick at my plate; this is my first real meal in a while, but I’m not much for eating right now, so we carry on our conversation. When the sky starts to darken, Angie and Charles say their goodbyes. They have a long drive back to Charlotte. I start to tell her I still can’t believe she drove down here to see me, but then realize I would do the same for her, so I say, “Thank you for coming to see me. It means a lot.”