Lights of the Heart

by Nat Burns

  The door opened, and Dr McLean came in followed by Sandy. She stayed behind the door and beckoned me out

  “They think she’s waking up!” she crowed in a loud whisper.

  I blinked slowly. “For real?”

  She nodded. “That’s what Cassie said. I just got off the phone with her. Let’s go call Florida, and we’ll meet her there after work. This I gotta see for myself.” She hurried off. I followed in a daze. Could Maddie really be coming back to us after all these weeks?

  The hospital was winding down although the halls were still packed with visitors. Most of the nursing staff changed shifts at three, and by five thirty, the new night staff was in place and smoothly taking care of sorting the end-of-day medications and charting.

  The three of us met outside and progressed to Maddie’s room together. Now, outside her door, we paused and looked at one another. This would be a very great day if what Cassie had told us were true. We’d been depressed about Maddie’s condition for long enough. We needed some good news.

  She was sitting up when we entered the room. My heart thrilled upon seeing this. I rushed to her side. She raised her eyes and looked at me. Most of the bruises and cuts had healed, though there was still some discoloration around her right eye. She looked so beautiful, yet so frail. Her deep brown eyes seemed clouded, and I wondered if she saw me clearly.

  “Lord, girl, you are a sight for sore eyes,” Sandy said as she approached the opposite side of the bed. “You look really good considering what you’ve been through. Are you feeling okay?”

  Maddie nodded but looked away from us, out the window. She seemed disinterested.

  “Maddie?” I said. She turned back around. I saw no recognition in her eyes. “It’s Ella. And this is Sandy. We work for you. Do you remember us?”

  She looked from me to Sandy then back again. Nothing.

  “Corinthia?”

  Her head snapped around upon hearing this name, and she peered suspiciously at Florida. Maddie’s lips moved, but no sound came out.

  My heart began a frantic two-step in my chest. It was still early, I told myself. The brain is still healing. She will remember us when it does.

  Why wasn’t I convinced?

  Florida moved closer and laid her hand on Maddie’s cast. “It’s Tia Florida, honey. We’re going to get you home soon. It should only be a few more days and then you can come home to my house and we’ll have you right as rain in no time. How does that sound?”

  Maddie was listening intently, but she didn’t speak. After some time, she lifted her other hand and placed it atop her aunt’s. I desperately hoped that this was a good sign.

  Sandy pulled me aside and whispered in my ear. “I’m gonna go see if I can find that sawbones and find out what’s going on here.”

  “Sandy—” I wanted to reiterate to her what the doctor had explained to Florida and me a few weeks ago, but she was gone. I moved back to Maddie, determined to bring her out of this fugue state.

  “Maddie, I want to let you know that everything at the office is just fine. Sandy found a new young doctor named Randolph McLean to do your office hours. He seems nice enough. He’s not you, of course, but I don’t think anyone’s getting poor treatment.”

  Maddie nodded, so I knew she heard me, but she still seemed disinterested. She was studying Florida, head cocked to one side.

  I remembered suddenly how she had looked at me in a similar way, and my heart actually ached. I couldn’t catch my breath for a moment. I struggled to stifle the panic I felt.

  Sandy bustled back into the room, drawing Maddie’s attention.

  “Maddie, honey, we’ll be right back,” Sandy said, smiling at her as she motioned Florida and me from the room.

  “The doctor wants to see us at the nurse desk, just to talk about what’s going on with Maddie,” she told us once we were in the hallway.

  She led the way through the intricate labyrinth where the nurses for the neurology ward were stationed. Flat monitors were mounted on one central wall, visible from all angles, and I felt glad that Maddie was so well looked after. Dr Dorsey stood by an alcove, reading papers that were in a folder. He heard us, snapped the folder shut and welcomed us with a smile. He escorted us through the alcove and into a small conference room, closing the door behind us.

  “Ladies, if you all will have a seat, we can talk about Dr Salas’s course of treatment.” He took the remaining fourth chair and leaned back in it.

  “Now, let me get this straight.” He pointed at Florida. “You are her only family?”

  “Yes.” Florida nodded. “I’m her aunt. Her mother is still living but suffers from severe Alzheimer’s.”

  “Ahh,” he said, nodding sagely. “And you two work with her, in her medical practice?”

  We nodded.

  “I’ve been with Doctor Maddie since she took over for our previous Maypearl physician, Richard Pembroke,” Sandy said.

  Dr Dorsey nodded again and passed the folder to Florida. “Before we go any further with our discussion, I need you to sign this release, saying it is okay for the staff here to talk with Dr Salas’s employees. I mean no disrespect, ladies,” he said to Sandy and me. “It’s all that legal mumbo jumbo that we have to take care of.”

  Florida signed the forms without hesitation, and Dr Dorsey began talking.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Maddie

  Some days I sat in my bedroom and stared out the window, it being all I could do. I didn’t much care for those days. I was sure at one point in my life, I’d been an energetic, even productive person. I was certainly well liked, as evidenced by the constant stream of visitors I had each week. Now, sitting on the side of my double bed in my tiny bedroom, I sighed. I turned and studied the board. It was Tuesday, November first, and the digital clock told me it was eight fifteen in the morning. I saw no appointments listed for today. I had nowhere to be. That was a huge relief. I could sit, by myself, and allow my mind to relax.

  I stood and reached for my cane. I had picked out plain black, of course, but Ella had decorated it with colorful cat-face stickers all the way down. They didn’t look like cats to me, but that was what she said they were. It was pretty.

  I made my way into my bathroom. Studying my bathroom list, I began to follow it religiously. Tia had made it on a magnetic board, and I was to move a circle over every time I completed a task. I moved it from toilet to shower. I loved the shower. I often ran all the hot water out of the hot water tank, but Tia said it was okay. I undressed and then checked the list taped to the curtain.

  In the beginning, right after I came home, I had washed my face and body so many times each morning, forgetting that I had already done it, that I made my skin raw and infected. Now, I could use the wax pencil and mark off everything that I washed, so I could remember and not do it again.

  Another coping mechanism that Wendy Wagner, my therapist, had taught me was making sure that everything had a home. After I washed and dried my hair and body, I went to the sink and moved the lotion out of its home. I left it out there after I used it, and I did the same all the way down the line until I reached my brush. I pulled it through my short curly hair, which was still damp. It went quickly as I’d given up trying to tame the curls long ago. I put everything back into its home and, wrapped in a soft towel, went into the bedroom to dress.

  Luckily, dressing went quickly as well. Tia had placed everything in its own home. I pulled on an undershirt, a pullover shirt and sweatpants. Fully dressed, I sat on the bed and breathed for a while. I was tired.

  “Corinthia? You up? Did I hear the shower?” Tia knocked briefly on the door.

  I knew she would come in, and she did. It was nice she always knocked, though. I grabbed my tablet and pressed a button. “Good morning,” it said in its tinny little voice.

  “Good morning, sweetheart. How did you sleep?” She opened the drapes a little more.

  I pressed the icon for ‘well’ and the machine replied for me.

 
“Good. Any headache?” She studied me. I shook my head. Migraines from the head injury had proven to be a real deal-breaker with God. Man, they hurt. I had several medications I could take, but they all made me feel like a…zombie, so I was usually in bed for two days, first from the migraine and then from the medicine. Ugh.

  She handed me my clogs. “Do you want socks?” She waited expectantly until I shook my head.

  “I’ve got breakfast started, so why don’t you head on in and check the toaster for me?”

  I nodded and made my way down the hall toward the kitchen. I really liked this little house. I couldn’t remember exactly where I’d lived before, but I knew it was Tia’s house farther out of town. Tia had found this one in the center of town and had paid for it with some of the money from the truck accident that had given me the TBI. Traumatic Brain Injury. She said it was more than two million dollars, and that was good because I would need it to take care of me, for food and clothes and electric.

  The toast popped up as I approached it, so I put it on a plate and put in the two pieces of bread that were waiting. Two covered dishes were on the table, and I lifted the lids. One was bacon and scrambled eggs, the other a pile of butter-dripping home fries. My mouth watered.

  “Sit down, honey, eat while it’s hot. I’ll butter those,” Tia said as she came into the kitchen.

  I obeyed her and pressed icons on my tablet. “Thank you…cooking…this,” it said.

  “You’re very welcome, Corinthia. Dig in. But take your pills first.”

  The food was delicious, and I ate until I was stuffed. Tia watched me indulgently as she chewed her own food. “You’re gonna have to walk a little extra today if you keep that up,” she told me, laughing.

  I punched my tablet. “Your fault,” I replied.

  “So, no therapy today, no visitors. What are you gonna do with yourself all day?”

  “Puzzles,” I told her.

  She nodded. “That’s right. You’ve got three to finish before tomorrow.”

  I rose and started loading the dishwasher. It was only silverware and the frying pan. Since the injury, Tia and I used paper cups, plates and bowls. I was like a bull in a china shop and often broke things with my erratic movements.

  After breakfast was cleared, I went to the desktop computer set up on a desk in an anteroom just off the living room. I laid my cane on the floor and switched the machine on. Using the mouse with my stronger right hand, I clicked on the icon and opened the portal my therapist had set up for me. Each week she gave me five strategy puzzles to help me build my cognitive skills. She also encouraged me to play solitaire and other card games whenever I felt like it. Today the puzzle was all about finding hidden items. I did well, quickly locating a key, an apple, three bottles and a pen in the dark, brooding scene these items were hidden in. The second task was a lot harder and it took me the better part of an hour for me to come close to finishing it. I had to put a list of tasks in the order they were typically accomplished. That was on the left-hand side. On the right was a list of items used in these tasks, and they had to be matched and listed in order. Putting things in order was always so hard for me.

  I could hear Tia in the other room talking on the phone, and I felt unreasonable anger well up in me. I pushed it down but knew I needed medication. Emotions still often went over the top and took me with them.

  I slammed my palms on the desktop and lifted myself to my feet. The puzzle was too much. I would go back to it later. I retrieved my cane and went into the kitchen to the cabinet that held my medicines. I opened the cabinet and looked at them. How I hated them. I hated them because they changed my brain chemistry and, when I used them a lot, I didn’t even know who I was anymore.

  “What do you need, honey?” Tia asked as she came into the kitchen. She had her cell phone in one hand. I glanced at it, then at her. I realized my tablet was still on the desk, so I fetched my own cell from my pocket. I awakened it and pressed an icon. “Angry,” it said.

  “Okay, hon, okay. Here you go.” She stepped in front of me and fetched the bottle of Prozac. She opened the bottle and broke a tablet in half. “Here, Corinthia, five milligrams. Are you gonna walk it off too?”

  I nodded and took the pill with a juice glass of water. I punched my phone. “Coffee?”

  “No, sweetie. You go ahead. Be careful, though. And you need socks and a jacket. It hasn’t warmed up yet.”

  I nodded and went down the hall to fetch these items. Pulling the socks on proved difficult, and I felt anger swell in me again. I persisted and finally, with much huffing and puffing, managed to get them on straight. I slid into my clogs and stood, balancing by holding the back of the chair. I looked up and found Tia standing in the doorway watching.

  “That’s my girl,” she said. She came in and kissed my forehead. “Enjoy your coffee, my dear, sweet niece.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Ella

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come alone?” Jessica asked. I heard the worried note in her voice and felt unreasonably guilty. I hated when she worried about me.

  “I just don’t feel right leaving her that long,” I explained.

  “It’s because you’re afraid she will forget about you, if you’re gone too long, aren’t you?”

  I nodded at Julio. “Yeah, I guess so. Now, tell me all about the anniversary party. Did Brian burn mystery meat on the grill? Did you guys dance?”

  She laughed and began telling me about the surprising amount of bourbon that could be consumed in just a few short hours. I listened, making all the right noises, but I was in a bottomless depression that I wasn’t sure I could ever climb out of.

  After learning from Dr Dorsey that Maddie’s speech had been impaired, I felt like my earth was crumbling beneath my feet. How could this vivacious, intelligent woman that I loved be silenced? She had so very much to offer the world, and now she would have no way to express it.

  These days, I vacillated between self-pity because I would never hear her speak again and remembering the remarkable ways challenged people like Stephen Hawking had enabled their voices to be heard. The emotional bouncing back and forth was making me feel erratic and out of control most of the time.

  Maddie had made great strides since that day she’d awakened, but she still struggled with everyday tasks. I visited her often, but it was absolutely clear that she had forgotten our idyllic stolen days—and nights—in Dothan. I saw no love in her eyes when she looked at me, and each time she did look at me, as just her friend and one-time co-worker, I felt grief well up and burden my heart.

  “Are you sure you won’t come for Thanksgiving? I promise Mom and Dad are not going to be here, in case you were worried about that.”

  How could I tell my sister that I would be horrible company? That there was no thanksgiving in me anywhere because of the brutal way God had treated Maddie and me? No, I would not be visiting her for Thanksgiving.

  “The office is just so shorthanded too. I don’t think there’s any way I could get away for that long. I also promised Florida that I would stay with Maddie while she heads over into Mississippi to visit her kids before Thanksgiving. She hasn’t been for a while, so—”

  “Can’t Maddie go with her?”

  “I don’t think she’s up for that much traveling just yet. She still goes to therapy two days a week, and she doesn’t want to miss that.”

  Jess sighed. “Okay, sis, but I want it on the record that I am seriously worried about you. You sound really down. Granted, it’s justified, but I want to hold your hand and tell you that everything’s going to be all right.”

  “But it’s not,” I whispered.

  “What?”

  “It’s not going to be all right. I’ve lost her, and I don’t know how to get her back. And I want her back,” I replied.

  “Ella—”

  “They tell you that a head injury often creates a whole new person. They say she might be able to do what she did before, be who she was before, but ther
e will be differences because her brain has to create all new pathways to do what it did before. That’s all well and good, and I could deal with that. What I can’t deal with is how she has forgotten who I was to her. What she was to me. There’s no spark of love, no recognition even when she looks at me, and every time she does look at me…I just die a little.”

  “Ella, honey, this too shall pass. She has to get better, and when she does, she will remember you and will remember what you two are to one another. I mean, think about what her poor little brain has been through, bounced around like that. It takes time to get healed from that.”

  I scratched Julio under the chin. “If she is healed. Her mind might never recover. Then what? No medical practice, no life for her…or for me! She and I are linked in so many ways. I can’t even imagine life without her. Even now.”

  “I do understand, hon, you’ve loved her a long time now. Just give it time, a little longer. Be there for her and try not to get too down about it. Okay?”

  I nodded and pressed my face against Julio’s soft ears. “Okay.”

  “What did you say?” She sounded puzzled.

  I sat up straight. “I said okay. It’s not like I have anything else to do. I just work and visit Maddie and come home. It’s not exactly what I had planned for my life, even just a few short months ago.”

  “Ella, please don’t become bitter about this. Maybe you should find a church, talk with a priest.”

  Anger filled me. “Like that’s going to change anything, Jess. I gave up on that a long time ago. Plus, I’m pretty mad at God right now. I’m not so sure He’d want to hear from me.”

  I heard her gasp. “Ella! You know, maybe He’s the one you should be talking to right now. Talk about how angry you are. It might help.”

  I let silence reign as I pondered her words. There was a Catholic church just down the street from me. “Maybe I will,” I whispered finally.

  “I’m sorry, little sis. I just hate this and feel so helpless.”