by JA Lafrance
As the heavy automatic doors slowly open, we’re greeted by several doctors waiting outside the operating room. They glance at each other when they see me, and although their faces are masked, I can see the concern in their eyes. What has happened to me? Everyone comes to an abrupt stop as I reach for the gown of one of the doctors and pull him forward with us.
He positions himself at my side and brushes the hair out of my eyes. “It’s okay, Rose. We’re going to get you fixed up, good as new.”
I can tell from the way he says my name, he knows me. He knows who I am. But why don’t I remember? I notice blood on his glove as he moves his hand away from my face and lift my hand to my head. Terror washes over me when I feel the dampness of my blood-soaked scalp. Adrenaline rushes through my body making me dizzy and my hand begins to tremble.
“Her blood pressure is dropping.” I hear someone say as I begin to fade from consciousness.
The doctor leans over me and pulls down his mask. “Rose, it’s me, Grant. You’re going to be okay. I promise. I’ll take care of you.”
“Doctor,” I hear the nurse scold as I fade to black. “Put your mask back on, we can’t take any risks.”
Three Days Later...
Why does it feel like someone split my head open with an axe? I open my eyes, looking for the soot-covered man, who was sitting at my bedside every time I gained consciousness. I sit up, flustered with the dangling obstacles attached to my arm. Beeping machines and flashing lights add to my frustration as I try to swing my legs over the edge of the bed. The door opens, and a nurse rushes in, alarmed at the change in vitals sent to the nursing station caused by my persistent effort to get up.
“Hey.” She grabs for my arm as I start to tip over. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“To the bathroom, and then to find the doctor with the dimples to find out what’s going on.”
She guides me to sit on the edge of the bed as the door swings open, and a concerned physician rushes into the room, stopping dead at the sight of me sitting there. “What are you doing?”
There is frustration in his tone, but I’d know those eyes anywhere. “I need to go to the bathroom.”
“Are you kidding me?” he stares at the nurse as he rounds the end of the bed. “Rose. You have serious head trauma.”
“Was I in an accident?”
They glance at each other. “You still don’t remember?” he asks sympathetically.
“No.”
“Do you remember your name?”
I do remember now. “Rose O’Brien.”
He nods his head. “That’s satisfactory progress. Do you remember me?”
He seems familiar, but I’m unsure. I shake my head.
“Well, that’s a shame,” he teases. “I’m a great guy.”
The nurse rolls her eyes, and I manage a small smile. I feel numb from the medications they’re giving me for the swelling and the pain.
“How long have I been out?”
“Three days.”
I look between the two frontline workers standing in front of me, wearing full personal protective gear. “Not long enough for them to find a cure for COVID, obviously.”
“Sadly, no,” the nurse adds as she tugs the wires out from underneath me.
“What happened to me?”
The doctor takes a small, somewhat laboured breath, and hesitates. “You’re a firefighter.”
I remember now. A small rush of anxiety washes over me. “I was hurt during a call.”
“There was a huge fire.”
I search every corner of my mind trying to recover the details. The nurse stares at the doctor, discreetly shaking her head in silent disapproval. He takes note of her gesture but ignores her. “You helped many people get out before the explosion.”
I lift my hands and look at my bandaged arms. I feel ill. “How bad are the burns?”
“Ah,” he says cheerfully. “That’s the good news. The burns are superficial. You were incredibly lucky the blast shot you a hundred feet away from the inferno. We’re just not taking any chances with infection. Unfortunately, you were hit hard with shrapnel, and we had to do surgery to release the pressure and swelling inside your skull. It took quite a bit of work to get you stable.”
“I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.”
He nods. “You have a severe concussion. So, we need you to stay calm and quiet to keep the swelling down and heal that brain of yours.”
I gently touch the top of my head and immediately feel a stabbing pain. “I’m not using a bedpan,” I inform him.
I can tell from the ghost of a smile on his lips that he knows me well enough not to argue with me. He scratches his head. “Well, nurse, if she insists on going, you had better get her a wheelchair.
She nods, but I can tell she’s not impressed. “Anything you say, Dr. Dimples,” she says stoically as she leaves the room.
He lowers his brow and looks down at me. “Dr. Dimples? What’s that all about?”
I shrug but I’m sure he notices me blush.
That one short trip to the bathroom was exhausting, and I hate that the IV medications rob me of my independence. I grumble as the nurse helps me back into bed. I drift off for what seems like a moment when a whisper awakens me. Several firefighters stand quietly around my bed, some holding flowers. My memory becomes less foggy as I look around the room at the familiar, mask-covered faces.
“Hey,” the chief says in an unusually gentle and quiet tone. “The nurse said we could come in as long as we kept quiet.”
I look around the room. “I didn’t think any of you knew how to be quiet.”
“We don’t,” someone adds. “We lied.”
I can see the chief, take inventory of my injuries, as he approaches the side of my hospital bed. He tries, unsuccessfully, to hide what looks like remorse. “There was no way they were keeping us out. We’ve all been worried.”
“I’m doing okay,” I assure him. He helps me sit up, and I close my eyes tightly until the sharp jabbing pain in my brain subsides.
“What the?” I hear the nurse say as she enters the room. “I said a few, not the whole squad,” she scolds the chief as she collects the bouquets and gifts and places them by the window ledge.
The chief ignores her. “Grant says you’re having trouble remembering things.”
“I’m having trouble recalling the event itself. Names and people are starting to come back to me. He says it’s only temporary due to the concussion and swelling.” There’s a sudden change in the energy in the room that makes me feel anxious. “Was anybody else hurt?”
Most of the squad avoids eye contact with me. Those who don’t, look at me with tear-filled eyes. The chief places his hand on mine in a comforting gesture. “All the residents made it out safely.”
I experience a moment of clarity. “Including the three kids trapped on the sixth floor?”
He nods. “Yes, they all got out safe. You’re a hero.”
His statement aggravates me. I don’t know why. My heart begins to pound in my chest, and the gauze around my head feels like it’s tightening, causing painful pressure. “I’m not,” I insist. “I’m not a hero.”
The nurse returns and injects something into my IV to help steady my rising blood pressure. “You all need to leave now.”
Grant is sitting on the side of my bed when I open my eyes later that day. “How are you feeling?”
“Like I was hit in the head by a rock from an exploding volcano.”
He grins. “Good analogy.”
I acknowledge the transparent plastic face shield he’s wearing today. “New headgear.”
“Yeah. I have to check in on some of my elderly patients, and I feel like they’re getting a little more human interaction if they can see my face.”
“It makes a difference.”
He smiles, and I feel a warm attraction to him.
“I have a surprise for you,” he says, looking excited.
“You do?”
/>
“Mmhmm,” he hands me a tablet covered in plastic. “It’s been wiped clean,” he assures me.
I reach out and take it from him and wait for an explanation.
“Honey? Is that you, Rose? I can’t see you.”
I tip the tablet upwards. “Mom?” I look up at Grant with childlike excitement.
“Dr. Fulton stopped by with one of these tablet thingies and showed your father and me how to video-call you. We’ve been so worried about you.”
I raise my brows and glance at him over the top of it. “I’m okay, Mom.”
“We tried to visit you, but they wouldn’t let us in because of the COVID.”
“I told them we’re just entering into the second phase of get back to normal life, and they should still stay home until we’re certain that the number of cases continues to decline as the world starts to reopen,” Grant explains.
I nod my agreement. “Don’t go out, Mom. Not even to come here. We don’t need you or Dad getting sick.”
“You’re my daughter,” she argues. “COVID or not, we want to be by your side.”
“I appreciate that, but I’m doing better every day. I’ll be home soon.” I ignore the surprised look on Grant’s face.
“Well, I’m going to video call you every day so we can talk, and I can see for myself. I have to go now. Your father has to eat his supper at exactly 5 o’clock. You know... because of his diabetes.”
“Yes, Mom, I know. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
She chokes back her tears. “We love you, Rosie.”
“I love you too, Mom.”
She places the tablet down and walks away. I can hear her in the background nagging at my father to take his insulin. “Mom! You have to end the call and turn the tablet off. Mom? Oh, boy.” I shake my head as I end the call.
Grant chuckles and the sparkle in his eyes is uplifting.
“Thank you for that. You risked going over there so they could talk to me?”
He shrugs. “They showed up here, frantic. Security wouldn’t let them in. It’s the least I could do. I figured if they could see you’re doing okay, it would ease their anxiety. Besides, I wore gloves and a face mask. She opened the door to get the tablet, but I didn’t go into the house. We stood on either side of the storm door while I showed her how to connect it to the internet and set up an account.”
Knowing my parents’ technological limitations, I feel my chin drop. “I can’t even imagine how badly that went. How long were you there?”
He scratches his head. “Err... about three hours.”
I put my hand over my mouth, feeling both awkward and amused. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t even mention it. I’d do anything for you.” As soon as he speaks them, he glances at me, looking like he wishes he could retract his words.
My heart skips a beat, and I wonder for a moment if there’s something about our relationship that I should remember, but don’t. “That’s nice to hear.”
He tries to deflect. “Well, of course. You’d do the same for me.”
I nod. “Yeah, I probably would.” I take advantage of this moment to draw out some information that is missing from my memory. “I’ve been wondering how we know each other. Did we meet at the hospital?”
He scratches his forehead, looking uncomfortable. “Oh, boy. Yes, it was my first night working in the ER and you came in with the EMTs to help with patients involved in a multiple car accident. Many people lost their lives.”
“And that’s when we became friends. Working together to help the survivors.”
He purses his lips. “No, not that night. It wasn’t like that at all. In fact, you hated me for quite some time.”
“I did?” Now I feel embarrassed.
“That night, you stayed with a young boy whose parents were killed. He had suffered a lot of trauma, but there were so many people coming through the door who needed my attention all at once. I was feeling overwhelmed, and I hesitated a moment before deciding on his treatment. You told me to get my shit together because you didn’t rescue him from the wreck so I could kill him in the emergency room.”
That moment comes back to me, and I lower my eyes, feeling ashamed. “I remember.”
“But... you eventually fell victim to my charm.” He flashes me that boyish grin and his eyes project a brilliant blue. It’s hard to feel down when he smiles like that.
“We eventually became friends?” I ask, setting him up with the opportunity to come clean with anything I should know.
“Yes, friends.” His phone rings, and he takes it out of his pocket to look at the display. “I have to go. Duty calls.”
I smile, though I feel disappointed.
“Are you okay?” the nurse asks, noticing my melancholy when she enters the room. “Do you need something for pain?”
“No. I’m not in pain.”
“What’s going on then?”
“This memory loss thing is driving me crazy. Some things I remember and others I don’t.”
“I can see that would be frustrating.”
“Can I ask you a few questions?”
She shrugs as she tends to new dressings on my arms. “Sure.”
“Is Grant married? Or in a relationship?”
She gives me an amused smile. “No. And before you ask, he’s not gay either.”
“Am I?” I wonder out loud.
She laughs. “I don’t think so. Everyone here wonders why you two never got together.”
“Really? What are some of the theories?”
“It’s odd. We used to make fun of you guys because you were always showing up at the same events, supporting the same charities, and going to the same parties. You seemed to have a fun time together and enjoyed each other’s company, but then you both went home alone. There is always this sexual tension between the two of you. None of us can figure out how Grant ended up in the friend zone.”
“Oh.”
She fastens the dressings and slides her scissors back in her pocket. “I wonder if it was because of all the other men in your life.”
I open my eyes wide. “I’m a player?”
“Heavens, no. I didn’t mean partners. I meant firefighters. Your squad. They can be like overprotective older brothers sometimes. Especially Ryan. Maybe Grant just never acted on his feelings for you out of respect for your career and your lifestyle. I mean, let's face it, you’re both married to your work.”
I search the corners of my mind. “Who’s Ryan?”
She places her hand on mine sympathetically, and I’m confused by her gesture. “He was your partner. A member of your squad. I have to do bedpan duty. Ring the buzzer if you need anything.”
“What do you mean...WAS?” I ask as she leaves the room. “Wait... what feelings does Grant have for me?”
Last night I refused the evening pain meds and drugs to help me sleep. I’m tired of feeling like a zombie during the day. I regret that decision this morning. I open my eyes to an unfamiliar face standing at my bedside, reading my chart. “Who are you?”
“I’m the attending surgeon. It's been almost five days. It’s time for you to get up and start walking around so we can send you home.”
“What?”
He pulls back the blankets and waits. “You need to get out of bed and walk around.”
I want to tell him no, I’ve had a long, restless night, but he doesn’t look like the kind of guy who is going to take no for an answer. I swing my legs over the bed and adjust my position. Slowly, I lower my feet to the floor, get my balance, and take several steps.
“Good, I’m signing you out. You should wait a few weeks before you drive. Have someone here to pick you up by noon.”
The room starts swaying like I'm on a boat. I reach out to steady myself and feel a wave of nausea.
“What are you doing?” Grant’s voice says angrily as he enters the room.
The surgeon looks up from his chart and glares at him from over the top of his glasses. “Getting her ready
to go home.”
Grant pushes past him to get to me. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I assure him. “Just a little weak and I feel nauseous.”
“Here,” he says, guiding me to the side of the bed. “Sit down.”
I exhale, trying to ward off the imminent vomiting I feel bearing down on me. “I don’t think I feel ready to go home.”
“Nobody is sending you home yet,” he assures me as he sits beside me.
The impatient doctor, with no bedside manner, interrupts. “She needs to get up and get moving. She’ll heal faster.”
“She doesn’t have to, if she doesn’t feel well enough,” Grant argues.
“We need beds.”
Grant gets to his feet and takes a dominant stance. I find it quite attractive.
“New cases are on the decline. We don’t need to be throwing patients out of their rooms before they’re well enough.”
“We need to prepare for the second wave.”
Even beneath the mask, I can see Grant’s jaw stiffen, and I start to feel anxious as the tension grows between them. “We can discuss this patient discharge out at the nurses' station tomorrow.”
“Dr. Fulton...”
“She’s not going anywhere today,” Grant declares with authority.
After watching the surgeon storm out of the room, he returns to my side and takes inventory of my health. “How are you feeling now?” he asks in a nurturing tone. “You look a little pale.”
“I’m fine.”
“How’s the memory? Anything coming back?”
“Bits and Pieces.”
He holds up a finger, and I instinctively follow it with my eyes as he moves it from side to side, up and down. “No headaches...double vision...blackouts?”