by RJ Heaton
“Nikki, I’m fine. Don’t you think I know how to drive in the snow?”
“Well, yeah … but I think the speed limit is only thirty-five through here.”
“Would you like to drive?” He looks over at me. I can’t see his entire expression, because in a split second the car starts to turn sideways and we begin to spin out of control. My head twists and hits the side window. I clamp my eyes shut for a second and when I open them back up, I see two bright lights just before the wrenching sound of metal bending and crunching, reverberates through the air.
Three
Unfamiliar whirling, humming, and buzzing sounds fill my ears.
My eyelids feel weighted, as if they are glued together. It takes every ounce of strength to flutter one of them open. The brief bright light stings and instinctively, my lid clamps back shut.
Again, I hear the strange noises. I try again. This time, I can open both of them to small slits. My head pounds angrily, so I make my movements very small and slow.
It’s hard to peek through the small openings of my eyelids, but I am able to focus my eyes a bit, and now I can see a few things.
The walls are sparse white. A TV is on a built-in cabinet at the end of the bed. Where am I? Stubbornly, I try to move my head to get a better view of my surroundings. I can’t hold back the moan that escapes my lips from the pain.
“Aunt Nikki, you’re awake!” The voice is buzzing with excitement, but I don’t dare move my head again. I’m not in any particular hurry to feel that pain again.
“Rachel?” I try to ask, but my words sound more like a scratchy grunt than any actual words.
“Don’t try to talk. You have a tube down your throat.”
Panic. Why the hell do I have a tube down my throat? Flashes of snow and a spinning out of control car … oh and headlights ... Oh, my god, we were in an accident last night.
My niece must see the panic and shock on my face. “It’s okay Auntie, you’re ok. Let me call a nurse.” She lets go of my hand and pushes a call button on the back of the wall.
All of the whirling and buzzing makes sense now, but this thing down my throat is awful. Was it really that necessary for one night? I keep trying to swallow, but it’s beyond uncomfortable. Every time I try, it burns my throat like someone is sliding sandpaper over my esophagus.
“How can I be of … oh, look who’s awake.” A nurse wearing fluorescent pink scrubs walks in, her smile widening when she sees me. My eyes scan over my niece with a glowing bright smile, and then they flash back to the nurse, wearing a similar smile.
Why are they so happy? And where is everyone else? I have a million questions, but I know I won’t be asking any of them until someone … anyone pulls this damn tube out of my throat. The nurse is looking over the equipment, pushing buttons, but I wave my left hand around to get her attention. When I know I have her attention, I point at the tube.
“Oh, don’t you worry sweetie. We’ll be getting that thing out in a jiffy.” I nod in acknowledgment, but a jiffy doesn’t seem quite soon enough.
“Aunt Nikki, I’m so excited you’re finally awake. I need to let everyone know.” Rachel steps away, and then I watch as the nurse turns and walks out, feeling aggravated—she didn’t rip this damn thing out.
Rachel keeps babbling, but with my head having its own throbbing heartbeat it’s hard to follow her conversation. “They’re all at my Mom’s house celebrating Lexie’s birthday.”
Did I just hear her right? My Lexie’s birthday? My eyes follow my niece pacing back and forth around the room. Impossible. Lexie’s birthday isn’t until May 1st. I was just at that party last night, and it was being held on February … February, crap what date was that fundraiser on? Anyway, it was still impossible. Maybe she meant to say someone else.
Rachel’s phone rings, adding another sharp pain in my head. “Yes Mom, she’s awake. No, she can’t talk right now. She still has that tube thing down her throat. Yeah, hurry up.” She clicks off her phone. “She’s coming Aunt Nikki. Everyone’s so excited.” She says exuberantly, then bounces harder on the end of my bed than I would have liked. “I knew you would wake up on my shift.” Her statement is bizarre and leaves me more confused than I was before. How many shifts did they have to take in a twenty-four hour period?
“Well, Mrs. Cooper you finally decided to join us.” Another woman with a friendly face enters my room. “I bet you’re fixin’ to get that darn thing out.” I nod.
Rachel jumps off the end of my bed grinning from ear to ear. “Yay,” she claps. I guess I can’t complain about her excitement. I’m pretty excited to get this darn thing out too.
“I hate to say this, but this is no peaches n’ cream, darlin’. It’s an uncomfortable feel’n.” I breathe heavy. Anxious as to how this is going to feel. I knew in the back of my mind that this probably is going to—suck, bad.
“What I’m fixin’ to do is count to three and then I’ll begin to pull. While I’m pull’n, I’d like you to cough out. Okay?”
I’m sure she can see the worry in my eyes, “you’ll be okay. Are you ready?” one quick nod and she begins her count; One. Two. Three. The raw ripping sensation is ten times worse than I could have imagined … and it goes on forever. I cough and hack while it glides up, and when I can no longer feel a foreign object invading my throat, I cough hard and uncontrollably.
“Your throat is goi’n to be a little scratchy and raw, but it’ll feel a lot better now with that thing gone.”
“Thank you,” I rasp, as she hands me a cup of ice chips.
I go to lift my right hand to grab the cup, but nothing happens. I try again. Still nothing, my arm just hangs loosely by my side. “My arm,” I look down at it trying over and over to make it move. “It’s not working.”
The nurse bends over and grabs my hand. “Can you try to give me a squeeze?” I try with all my might to close my fingers to grab her—nothing. She moves down to the end of the bed and uncovers my legs. “Ok, can you wiggle your toes?” I wiggle my toes and to my astonishment, only the toes on the left are moving.
“I don’t want you to be scared, but we couldn’t be exactly sure how everything was goi’n to work. You sustained a lot of injury to your brain in the accident.”
“What?” This is too much. I had brain trauma? Full blown panic hits me—hard. I use my one good arm to leverage myself up a little. I need to assess myself. My arms look fine besides one of them not moving. My feet look okay as well, but I see a large cast covering the lower half of my right leg. “Is it broken?” I expected to see scratches and bruises covering my body, remembering the horrific sound of the metal crunching but seeing a broken leg shocks me. It doesn’t hurt. Wouldn’t a broken leg hurt?
The nurse nods her head at me, “Yes honey it was broken when a piece of metal embedded into your leg.” Whoa, now that’s some crazy news. They must have me on some serious drugs for it to not be throbbing. “I think the Doctor was talking about taking the cast off in the next couple of days?” That doesn’t make any sense. He must have to reset it or something—no one—can heal that fast. I shake my head in confusion.
The nurse must read my expression as frustration, “We’re very hopeful with physical therapy. You’ll be back to ship-shape in no time.” Her smile is sincere, but it doesn’t stop me from feeling like I’m in the depths of despair.
“Are you sure?” I rasp.
“Time will tell.”
I lay back down, feeling exhausted. I shouldn’t be this tired if I’ve been asleep since yesterday, but I’m wiped, and I find myself dozing off again.
Four
“Oh, honey.”
“Heather?” My sister’s green eyes are the first thing I see when I open my eyes.
“We’ve been so worried about you!” It would be just like my older sister to hover and worry. She’s only five years older than me, but she has always been the worry wart.
“I’m fine.” I rasp.
“Yes you are, thank heavens.” I see her ey
es dampen with tears, but before she lets them fall, she turns her head and wipes them away. Clearing her throat, “Well, yes … so … when you’re up to leaving this place, Mom and I had a discussion about my house probably being better equipped for you.
“… but why your house?” I begin to ask when memories of Sean in a dark room with Sarah resurfaces.
“I mean if that’s what you want to do.” She backpedals.
This is the first time I’ve thought about why I’m in the hospital. I look at my sister while she waits for a response. Moving in with a family member is not exactly my idea of a cheery cup of tea. I haven’t lived with anyone besides Sean and our kids since, well … our wedding day. How could he do this to us? I feel like the room is closing in on me sucking all of the oxygen from the room. I don’t want to make this decision right now.
“Momma!” Lexie’s bright blue eyes fill my heart with joy. My only daughter pulls at all of my heartstrings. She is a site for sore eyes, and when she walks in, she brings oxygen back into the room.
“Baby, you look so beautiful.”
“Oh Momma, you always think that.”
“True, but you are.” I smile as she hugs me tightly. Maybe I am biased being her mother and all, but Lexie is truly a beautiful woman; long, thick, blonde hair that reaches her waist, and those eyes … blue as a pool of glacial water. Someone could get lost in those eyes. “Why are you dressed up so nice?” I don’t know why out of all of my thoughts that’s what I ask her, but for just a second I don’t want to think about being in an accident.
Lexie makes herself comfortable on my bed—cozying in. “I had to look pretty for my eighteenth birthday, of course.”
It takes a second for me to process what she just said, “Honey don’t be silly. Your birthday isn’t until May. Lexie’s beautiful smile melts away, and I see the quick exchange of glances between my sister and daughter. Her warm hand wraps around my right hand. I want to take hold of her so badly, but my body won’t respond. I try to hide my frustration while holding on to the fact that I’m grateful that I can feel the warmth of her hand and the light squeeze she gives me.
Her hand tightens, “Momma, it’s May 1st today.
“Impossible. I was just at that party … last night.” Lexie slowly shakes her head indicating no. “No Momma. The accident was a couple of months ago.”
It’s me shaking my head no now. No. No. No. Impossible. “I remember. It was yesterday. It was snowing, and then … the lights.” Everyone in the room is silent as I search their faces for an explanation.
“Momma,” Lexie’s voice is a soft whisper. “You were hurt pretty bad. You’ve been in a coma.” Her light whisper sounds more like she’s screaming at me through a megaphone. Everything is amplified by this shocking news.
“But why don’t I remember?”
“You probably really didn’t want to be awake while you’re body was healing, Mom.”
“Two months?” She nods yes. Something clicks in my brain, “Wait, how’s Lance?”
Heather steps closer and Lexie’s whole face falls. This can’t be good.
“Nikki,” it’s my sister’s turn to speak up. “When the car started spinning out of control, it drifted into another lane and a semi-truck struck you guys.” I remember seeing lights and the sound of metal crunching and bending loudly, but I hadn’t known where we had been struck. Lance’s side must’ve been the side that was impacted. What seems like for the second time in two days—in my mind—bile rises to the back of my throat. I don’t know if I can hear anymore.
“Honey, he was killed instantly.”
“I thought Lexie was shaking the bed, but I realize it’s me trembling uncontrollably in hysterics. Not Lance! Why him? Why not me? This isn’t his fault he shouldn’t be the one gone. “It’s my fault, all my fault.” My life has taken a pivotal turn. I can’t take any more news. Sean, accident, coma, and now finding out Lance is dead. I shiver even though my gown is sticking to my skin from sweat.
“Momma, it’s not your fault. It was an accident.” I know she’s trying to comfort me, but no amount of comforting words soften the two-sided dagger ripping in to my heart. Nothing will make this pain stop.
The nurse with the southern drawl walks in. “How bout’ we have a little somethin’ to rest up for a bit?” I can’t be sure if she had been eavesdropping in on our conversation, or that she had perfect timing. Either way, I know that she is trying to help relieve my pain, but I’m afraid no drug will be able to erase this kind of pain.
Five
The sun shining in my room, announcing the new day, would be welcoming to wake up to—if I felt like welcoming a new day. The humming and buzzing are no surprise, and I’m used to my bare surroundings now. No voices or smiling faces are present. Just me and the dark cloud of dread floating heavy above my bed.
Poor Lance. He would have never left that party if I hadn’t been the one who had panicked and needed to flee. He’d still be here. What have I done? How is it even possible to feel’ grief, remorse, anger and unbearably lost all at the same time? I’m not sure, but that’s exactly how I feel. How do I pick up from here? And truthfully … do I want to? My days are dark, do I want tomorrow to really come? Is it hope that brings tomorrow?
“Good morning Mrs. Cooper.” A nice looking gentleman, I’d have to guess in his mid-forties, greets me. I wipe away the stray tears and give him my attention. “You probably don’t remember me, but I’m Dr. Mitchell.”
“Nice to meet you officially, I guess then.” He’s right. I have no clue who he is, nor any recollection of ever meeting him before.
“I probably shouldn’t confuse you any more than you already are, but I am just one of the many that helped … put you together again, after your accident. I’m sure you will be seeing quite a few new faces in the next couple of days.” I nod in understanding. “You gave a lot of people a good scare.” Again I nod, still in shock from this situation. “I’m a neurosurgeon. I was the guy messing with your brain.”
His sense of humor makes my lips curl up into a small smile. “She does smile.” He jokes. “Listen, I know all of this has got to be more like something from a bad movie than real life, but in reality—it did happen. Now we need to get you fixed back up. You took a pretty good beating and some of these things are going to take some time to heal.”
“So, my arm and leg?”
He puts his tablet down to assess my situation better, “Let’s take a look, okay?” Taking my right arm in his hand, he gently squeezes, “are you able to feel this?”
“Yes, it seems like I can feel mostly everything,” I tell him.
“That’s a very good sign, how about this?” He takes his stylus pen and runs it down the length of my arm. I excitedly say yes. “Perfect, now I want you to squeeze my fingers.” I try to the point of my head bulging, but nothing—they won’t budge. He must see the frustration on my face. “Don’t worry just yet, okay? He lays my arm back down gently and moves to the foot of my bed. His confidence in my recovery is reassuring, but there is still doubt lurking in the back of my mind. What if I will never walk again? How would I be able to continue to be a chef? He runs his pen over the top of my foot and I’m able to feel the motion. “Can you try to press against my hand?” I can feel the light pressure at the bottom of my foot and I try to push my foot into him. Not even a twitch of movement.
Ugh …
“The brain is an amazing thing,” he starts, as he walks to the head of the bed. “It’s like a giant roadway with Interstates and Highways streaming with information. Let’s say a piece of information is a bright shiny BMW, and you need your car to get to point B to make your arm reach for a glass of water. Well, if the road you usually travel is damaged and getting worked on, detour signs direct you in another direction. Now you have to drive all around to get to the point you were headed for.
“So I’m brain damaged?”
“I wouldn’t phrase it like that, but your brain did sustain a significant amount of inj
ury. There was some damage to the area near your occipital lobe that controls your ability for motor skills. Now your brain needs to create more pathways for communication.”
“Will it heal itself?”
“We are extremely hopeful that with some time—yes. Nikki, you had a lot of brain swelling, and that can take some time to completely go down. Once, all the inflammation is gone we will be able to get a better assessment. In the meantime, we will be doing some vigorous training to kick start those communications. You are a great candidate for physical therapy, and once we’re done with you, you’ll be up and running marathons and playing tennis in no time. I smile weakly at his hopefulness. I wish I could feel his optimism.
“How long do you think I will be in here?”
“Depending on how well your progression comes along, but I would think maybe a week. It seems to me that you’ll have a pretty good support team to help—your kids were here every day.”
“Yes we were.” The doctor and I both look up to see my oldest son—his arms overflowing with flowers. “We rather enjoyed it too … you weren’t able to bicker at us for a couple of months.”
“I guess I will have to do some double time then.” My son always was the class clown, but his light comic relief is just what I needed to calm my nerves. “Hi Ben.”
“Hi, Mom. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up. I was in Texas checking out a graduate school. The second I found out, I was on the next plane out of there.”
“Oh honey, don’t worry about it. Besides, you didn’t miss out on much, tears—a little panic.”
“I still wish I could have been here. I got in about two this morning and I didn’t think I should disturb you at that time.”
“Baby you can disturb me anytime — night or day.”
The doctor clears his throat, “I’ll let you visit with your family, but I wanted to let you know I will be getting you started on exercises, soon. It’s going to be a very long uphill battle for a while, but we will get you through this, okay?”