by C S Allen
“How would you feel to wake up after being in a coma only to find out that your parents are dead, and you can’t move because you’re strapped down? I am mad, I don’t know what is going on, and you say that we have talked about this before. Three years of my life are supposedly gone, my parents are dead, my friends are dead, and of all things . . . I was bitten by a damn spider that started all of this!” I stated.
“Will, you’ve been through a lot, and I’d like to give you a break now, okay? Let’s talk again tomorrow afternoon, and we’ll get some healing done,” Doctor Feinstein said, while writing some things down on a notepad.
“I was just talking with my parents at home, and now I’m here like in some damn bad dream. How do I get out of here or am I a prisoner now?” I asked.
“How about I call your aunt and uncle and let them know that you’re fully awake now, Will?” the doctor asked, looking up from writing.
“You mean they’re not dead? Someone wasn’t doing their job I guess, hunh?” I replied sarcastically.
“I’ll take that as a yes. Okay, I’ll check in on you tomorrow, Will. Be nice to your caretakers today,” Doctor Feinstein stated. She patted my shoulder and left the room.
Once she left, I looked around the room I was in, and it looked old. The paint was old with its light pea-green color. The ceiling was a dirty looking white like someone had been smoking in the room for years. The floor was concrete, which made me think I was in a basement someplace other than a hospital. There was no TV, nothing on the walls, and the room door was missing. As I was looking at the door frame, a woman came in the room and stood at the end of my bed.
“Good to see you awake again, Will. Are we going to do the therapy the hard way or the easy way today?” the woman asked me with a grin.
“What are you talking about, and who are you supposed to be?” I asked puzzled.
“Okay, I’m your physical therapist, and my name is Cindy. My job here is to get you mobile again so you can start walking on your own,” Cindy replied.
“So, what do I do when I have to use the bathroom? I can use the bathroom by myself, right?” I asked.
“I think you should be able to do that, and I will speak with your doctor about that, okay? Do you have to use the bathroom now?” Cindy asked.
“No, but I want to be able to have some freedom to do things by myself,” I stated.
“You have lost a lot of muscle tone since you’ve been in the coma so you may not be able to walk by yourself. I’ll talk with your doctor, Will, and see what they can do for you today,” Cindy stated.
“I need to see someone in my family. Who can call my aunt for me and let her know that I’m awake now?” I asked Cindy.
“I’ll tell you what, let’s just skip your therapy for today, and I’ll get your doctor to come by so you can ask him these questions directly, okay, Will?” Cindy stated with a smile and then left my room.
Too many things were going on in my head, and I was about to go insane because of my fear. How did I go from being at home with my family to being in bed at a hospital? Everything that I knew of was just a dream or I had imagined it all because I was in a coma. I needed to get out of that room and see outside. That was the other thing that was bothering me; there was no window to see the sunlight. As I lay there in the bed, I tried moving every part of my body from my legs on up to my head. I felt that everything was either heavy or sore on my body. I just needed a chance to get up and move around after all this time lying there.
A few moments went by when a male doctor came in my room with a white lab coat on that read Dr. Lamarre MD.
“How’s William doing today?” he asked, walking over to the side of my bed.
“He’s doing okay, I guess,” I replied.
“William, I am going to do a quick examination on you to see how everything is working today, if that’s all right with you,” Dr. Lamarre asked, taking a penlight out of his breast pocket.
“That’s fine,” I replied. As the doctor was checking my vitals and the flexibility of my limbs, I asked him a series of questions that concerned me. I found out that it was March 2001, and we had just had a blizzard in Maine. We had a new president by the name of George Bush Jr., and I couldn’t believe that my parents were dead. I had a catheter in me that I didn’t know I had until Dr. Lamarre stated that I could have it taken out. He checked a scar on my neck from where the breathing tube had been placed and asked me if my throat was still sore and if talking was still painful.
“I didn’t know that it was sore,” I replied.
“Will, I’m a bit concerned about your mental health. What is the very first thing that you can remember about being here in the hospital?” Dr. Lamarre asked, looking at me in a concerned way.
“I remember waking up an hour ago and Doctor Feinstein was sitting beside my bed, telling me that I have been in a coma for three years,” I replied.
“How about before today?” Dr. Lamarre asked.
“I went from talking to my mother, and now I’m here like a bad dream. I don’t remember anything else because I’m now just waking up after three years,” I replied, tearing up.
“Okay, William, no worries. How about I ask you a series of questions and see where we stand with them?” Dr. Lamarre asked.
“Sure, I guess,” I replied, wiping away a few tears.
“Just answer these questions quickly and try not to analyze them, okay?”
After about seven questions that pertained to what I could remember in my past up to that point, I was frustrated. I couldn’t answer three of those questions, and I wondered if they were trick questions. “Am I supposed to remember all of those questions, Dr. Lamarre?” I asked.
“Well, I was hoping you would remember all of the questions, but it seems like we have some work to do. I’d like to get a CT scan of your brain now that you’re functioning better. Tomorrow morning we’ll shoot to have that done and get you up and hopefully taking a step or two away from your bed. I’m also going to order that you move from this room to a better room with a view of outside and a TV. How does that sound?” Dr. Lamarre asked with a smile.
“Heck yeah, I’d love to get out of this room. What time is it?” I asked, feeling a bit happier.
“Well, it’s almost five in the afternoon, so you should be getting your supper pretty soon. I have some paperwork to catch up on, so I’ll see you tomorrow, Will, for that CT scan,” Dr. Lamarre stated. He gave me a thumbs up and then walked out of my room.
I felt a little bit better after Dr. Lamarre told me that I was about to change rooms. As I waited for my supper to come, my mind drifted off to more questions about my jail time once I got out of the hospital and the trial. Who is going to be my attorney and how will I be able to afford one? Am I going to have a phone to use in my new room? What about my parent’s house? I need to talk with Mr. Morin soon. A man rolled what looked like a service food cart from a hotel into my room. The food was covered with a metal cover with a handle attached. I didn’t say anything to the man wheeling it in; I just watched him. “Hello, Will, I have your dinner here for you. It looks like you may be able to feed yourself tonight,” the man stated.
“How do you know my name?” I asked.
“Your name is on the wall just outside your room,” the man replied. The man then took the metal cover off the top so I could see what food was under it. The food smelled so delicious to my nose that my mouth began to water.
“God, that smells so good, what is it?” I asked the man.
“Looks like we have turkey, mashed potatoes with gravy, green beans, and a slice of bread,” the man replied and then walked out.
I was about to ask him to get someone to let me loose to eat, but he was obviously in a hurry. I waited for someone to come in my room next to either feed me or let me do it myself, but no one came after ten or so minutes. “Hello? Is there anyone out there to help me?” I yelled, but no one answered. I felt stupid yelling, but my food was sitting there getting cold. I yelle
d the same thing again, and still no one answered. I was getting a bit aggravated and felt I was being purposely ignored by the staff at that hospital. Then a woman in blue scrubs walked by my room, and I yelled, “Hey! Can I get some help in here?”
The woman walked in and put her hands on her hips like I was bothering her. “Will, why are you yelling at me?” the woman asked loudly.
“Hey, I don’t know who you are, but I have been yelling for help for the past ten minutes. I would like to have help with eating my dinner, but I’m strapped down.”
“Oh, so now you don’t know me all of a sudden, after all of this time, William?” the woman asked. She was mad.
“According to everyone around here, I’ve been in a coma for three years, so no, I don’t know you. This is the first time I have ever seen you or spoken to you,” I replied.
The woman just stared at me for a moment like she wasn’t sure what to say next. “Will, if you’re messing with me, I’ll leave you alone all night, and you’ll have no one to feed you,” the woman said.
“I’m not messing with you. I have never seen you before in my life. I was just talking with my mother a few hours ago, and then I blacked out and woke up here. It was just 1997 a moment ago, and now I’m meeting new people today. I don’t know anyone in this place,” I replied, trying to convince this woman.
“Will, my name is Debbie and I’m your night nurse. I haven’t got caught up on today’s events about you, so I’ll get one of our assistants to help you. I’ll be right back,” Debbie stated and then walked out of the room.
Another ten or so minutes went by, and finally a girl about my age walked in and said, “Hi, Will, my name is Maria, and I’m here to help you with your dinner tonight. I’ve been told that I can unstrap you from your restraints, and you can feed yourself. I’ll be keeping you company to make sure everything goes down all right,” Maria stated, as she came to my bedside to help with releasing me.
When Maria released my arms from the restraints, my arms felt heavy. “My God, my arms are heavy, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to finish eating without help,” I said, struggling with my arms.
“Let me get you a fork, and let’s practice eating,” Maria stated, while getting a fork off the table.
After reaching for my food twice and then putting it in my mouth, I was fatigued. My right shoulder and jaw felt like they had been worked out in a gym for a while. And the muscles in my throat were sore when I swallowed. Maria suggested that I take a break and then take smaller bites once I felt rested. We talked about me and how long I had been in a coma.
Maria said she was the one who most of the time had changed my hospital gown and helped with keeping me clean and shaven. She never thought I would pull through with all of the things she had heard from the doctors. I was a bit embarrassed when Maria stated she had kept me clean, which meant she had given me baths. Eating took a good forty-five minutes to get half of the food down. My tongue even felt sore after I was finished eating, and that was a strange feeling. I felt super tired so I told Maria that I was about to fall asleep and thanked her for her help. The next thing I knew I fell asleep, and I woke up the next morning.
The doctor made good on his promise by moving me to another room with a TV and a window. I was actually able to feel the sun shining through on my bed, and the catheter and the IV that had been in my arm were removed. I was helped again by another aide with eating breakfast, and then physical therapy started. I couldn’t do much of anything to help myself get up or even stand for ten seconds without help. My therapy sessions were going to be twice a day from what I was told. Supposedly, it was to make my muscles get used to functioning.
Close to lunch time, when I was taking a break, I had to use the bathroom, and I called a nurse using a remote control. When the nurse came into my room, I told her that I needed help with using the bathroom. She said for me to hold on so that she could get help from another nurse. By the time another nurse came to the room, I had peed all over myself. I was so angry with myself and blamed it on the other nurse for being so slow in responding. I was so disgusted and embarrassed that I had to wipe away tears from my face. I think most of it was stress and heartache over the loss of my parents. I hadn’t grieved yet, and everything was coming to a head all at once.
After the nurses cleaned me up and the bed was remade after being soaked, I had to call Mr. Morin to see if he was still around. I looked beside my bed and saw a lamp with a phone underneath it. I tried to remember his phone number, but it was impossible to remember. I looked to see if there was a drawer in front of the table, and there was one, so I pulled on the drawer handle and found a phone book. I looked in the book under Attorneys and found Mr. Morin’s number. I then picked up the phone’s receiver and dialed his office number. His secretary said that Mr. Morin was out to lunch, so I left a message and my room number for him to call back. Next, I called my aunt’s number, and she was also out, so I left a message on her machine.
Doctor Feinstein came in the room, and she startled me by accident. I was looking toward the window at the sky, and when I turned back to look at the TV, she was beside the bed. “Whoa! You scared the hell out of me!” I yelled.
“Sorry, Will, I was observing you looking out the window and talking to yourself,” Doctor Feinstein replied.
“I wasn’t talking to myself; I was enjoying the sun and hoping to get out of bed soon to look outside,” I relied.
“Okay, well good mid-afternoon, Will. How are you feeling today?” Doctor Feinstein asked me.
“I have a positive outlook today because I called my aunt and my former attorney’s numbers and left a message at both places,” I replied with a smile.
“Good, is there anything that is upsetting you or bothering you in some way?” Doctor Feinstein asked.
“Well, I peed on myself this morning because a nurse took her sweet ass time to get in here, so that’s bugging me. I can’t do things for myself like get out of bed or feed myself. And I was told that my parents died in a car accident, but I can’t believe it or refuse to believe it,” I said frustrated.
Doctor Feinstein went into the famous psychiatrist crap of asking me a bunch of feeling questions: How did that make you feel? Why do you think it made you feel that way? Why don’t you believe that your parents died? She was very dull and boring with no sense of humor at all. “Will, before I end our session, have you had any thoughts of harming yourself?” Doctor Feinstein asked.
“No, not yet anyway,” I replied honestly. I shouldn’t have said that because it made my session longer.
Dr. Lamarre came in just as I was done listening to Dr. Feinstein go on about suicide. They exchanged pleasantries, and then she left the room.
“Will, we’re all set for your CT scan of your brain. What do you say we get you out of your bed and into a wheelchair?” Dr. Lamarre asked.
I didn’t have to answer because a male and a female nurse came in the room to take me away anyway. As we left the room, the same old questions were asked, and I responded the same. “I don’t remember anything except yesterday, and before that it was 1997 and my mother was talking to me,” I replied.
It wasn’t fun trying to get out of my wheelchair because I was embarrassed that I might fall back into the wheelchair. When I was helped onto the bed-like platform, I couldn’t do much except fall back into the nurse’s arms. I tried to do some joking about being paralyzed from the neck down, but no one would have that kind of talk. I was told not to say anything negative about myself and that I was going to be walking within two weeks. I didn’t see that happening, but I didn’t say anything about that.
After lying in a small tube. listening to the strange thumping sound for about two minutes, I was glad to get out of the machine. The nurses helped me back into my chair and then brought me back to my room. I asked if everything went well, but one of the nurses said that Dr. Lamarre would come in after he had reviewed the results. I figured that my CT scan wouldn’t show anything abnormal because I d
idn’t bang my head on anything. My memory was messed up because of being in a coma for three years and from being bitten by a spider.
When I got close to my room, Cindy was there, waiting outside the door to start some more physical therapy. She was smiling like she had just won the lottery or she was just naturally happy to see me.
“What are you smiling about? Did you just win the lottery or something?” I said, as I passed her and went into my room.
“I did, Will, I won the lottery,” Cindy replied.
“Mandy, you and Jeff can leave Will in the chair; he’s going to be doing therapy out of it today,” Cindy stated.
“Okay, Cindy,” Mandy replied and left me facing the bed.
Cindy had me do all kinds of exercises from the chair, and it was tiring. She had me lift myself up out of the chair, then I did g leg lifts and calf extensions and then to wall push offs from the chair. When I was near the end of therapy, I had to use the bathroom, and I felt nervous because I needed help again. I told Cindy that I was close to needing to go, so she called the nurse’s station for someone to help me. I requested the male nurse named Jeff who had helped me get back to my room rather than a female nurse. Thankfully, Jeff was available during his shift, or I would have been gun-shy. Cindy told me that she could have helped me, but I had refused, citing that I was gay and wanted Jeff to handle me because he was cute. I watched her expression on her face, and she didn’t know how to respond, so I let her off easy by laughing and slapping my knee.
“I’m just kidding! You should have seen your face, Cindy!” I stated, while shaking my head.
“Oh, you got me, Will, that’s a good one. I didn’t know what to say. I understand that you may be embarrassed, and that’s okay, but it’s not like I haven’t seen you without clothes on before. I helped bathe you a few times and did your therapy while you were in a coma,” Cindy stated with all seriousness.