Brain damage, p.18
Brain Damage, page 18
part #2 of Prescription: Murder Series
Everyone in the room nods in agreement. My mother puts her hand on my right hand, and gives me a squeeze.
“I’d also like to say,” Dr. Greenberg continues, “that Charly has made huge progress since she’s been here. I think we all remember what she was like when she first was admitted to the hospital.”
Everyone remembers except me. And maybe Clark, since he wasn’t around.
“However,” Dr. Greenberg goes on, “at this point, we are beginning to feel that Charly’s progress is slowing down, and her insurance will not continue to cover her stay here.”
I look over at Amy, who is shaking her head. “It’s not right,” she says. “Charly is doing great with me. She’s getting better at reading, and her speech is so much better than it was before.”
“I agree,” Clark says eagerly. I guess he’s glad to have something to contribute. “She sounds light-years better than last time I saw her.” He looks at Amy and winks at her. “You’ve done a wonderful job.”
Amy gives Clark a look. “Thank you,” she says quietly.
“Charly is not making great progress on my end,” Valerie speaks up. “Her neglect of the left side is really a huge barrier and it hasn’t improved at all. She completely ignores her left side when she’s dressing and bathing herself. She fights me when I try to dress her. Basically, I have to do all the work and then some. And now her muscles are getting tighter on the left side, which makes it just that much harder.”
Dr. Greenberg nods, not looking surprised at all. I know Valerie thought that I wasn’t doing a good job, but to hear her say it in front of everything makes me feel terrible. It sounds like she’s talking about some sort of bratty child. It’s not like I can help what my stupid body can and can’t do.
“What do you think, Natalie?” Dr. Greenberg says to my physical therapist.
“I have to agree with Valerie,” Natalie says. She sounds sadder about it than Valerie did. “As she said, the left neglect really makes things hard. Walking is really difficult for her, because she doesn’t have any control over her left leg. She’s definitely going to be using her wheelchair when she leaves here as her primary mode of mobility. And even that she has trouble with. She isn’t able to use her left arm to wheel the chair at all.”
“What about a power wheelchair?” Dr. Greenberg suggests.
“Oh God,” Natalie says. “That would be a disaster. She’s already bumping into things in the manual wheelchair. She’d be dangerous in a power wheelchair. She’s better off in the manual wheelchair and letting somebody else push her.”
“And what about using the bathroom?” Dr. Greenberg asks Valerie.
Valerie shakes her head. “She can’t do it on her own. At all. Like, not any part of it. She needs somebody to help her move to the toilet. She doesn’t even wash her hands properly afterwards.”
Dr. Greenberg looks thoughtful. “And Amy,” he says. “Do you think that Charly can be left alone when she gets home?”
Amy doesn’t meet my eyes. “No. She can’t. Not for more than a few minutes.”
Despite the fact that Amy has been my biggest cheerleader, that comment hurts me most of all. I’ve tried so hard to prove to everyone that I could be alone safely. I can’t believe she would say that.
It’s not true. It’s not.
Dr. Greenberg turns to my mother. “I think you can see, Mrs. McKenna,” he says, “that Charlotte is going to need a great deal of help when she gets home. It’s my understanding that you don’t feel that you can provide that help.”
My mother shakes her head. “I wish I could,” she says, her voice trembling. “But I have arthritis and a bad back. I just… I can’t…”
Dr. Greenberg nods. “It’s all right, Mrs. McKenna. There are other options for Charly. We can use her disability insurance and savings to hire someone to help her, but my understanding is that it may be beyond your financial means. Alternately, we can look into a nursing home in the area.”
I’ve been feeling increasingly sick through this meeting, and now, when Dr. Greenberg mentions a nursing home, it’s like a hand tightening around my throat. “I don’t want to go to a nursing home,” I say. I’m scared that I’m about to cry. I don’t want to cry in front of everyone here.
Everyone in the room is really quiet. It occurs to me that everybody knew about this except for me. Everyone knew that this was eventually going to happen, that I was going to end up in a nursing home. They’ve just been waiting to tell me about it, shielding me from the horrible inevitable truth.
“It won’t be as bad as you think, Charly,” Amy says. “You’re still going to get physical therapy there. It would just be an hour or two instead of three hours a day. It really won’t be that much different.”
How could she say that? I’m going to be in a nursing home. And I’ll probably be there for the rest of my life, because what exactly is going to change in the near future? I’ve been doing my best, and I’m just not getting better. Valerie said it all.
“Oh, Charly,” my mother says, grabbing my hand in hers. “Please don’t cry. I swear, I’ll come visit you every day.”
Dr. Greenberg magically produces a tissue from inside his pocket. He hands it to me and I wipe my eyes. Or at least, I wipe my right eye. I think maybe I get at my left eye too. Who knows? “It really is for the best,” he says.
And then, when it seems like I couldn’t feel any worse, Clark speaks up, “I’ll take her home with me.”
The room goes completely silent. Everybody is staring at Clark. I stop wiping my right eye so I can stare at him too.
Dr. Greenberg is the first to break the silence. “Excuse me?”
“I said I’ll take her home,” Clark says. He smiles crookedly. “She is my wife, after all. I don’t know why you’re all acting so surprised.”
Amy glares at him. “You’ve never seen her in therapy. You have no idea what you’re offering.”
“She’s my wife,” Clark says again. “And I intend to take care of her while she’s sick.” He cocks his head to the side. “I think it was in our marriage vows or something.”
Everyone in the room keeps staring at Clark. I can’t believe this. Clark is going to take care of me. He’s going to save me.
Chapter 42
Five Months After
There’s a porch attached to the hospital where patients sometimes sit with their families. I haven’t been there in a while, because it’s been winter and it’s just too cold. But today is the first really nice day of spring, and after Clark leaves, my mother suggests taking me there.
At first I’m not sure. I’m so comfortable in my own unit, around the people I know. I get scared at the thought of people passing by on the street, and maybe seeing me. But then my mother reassures me that the porch is invisible to passersby on the street. And it really is a beautiful day.
My mother wheels me to the porch, because I still haven’t gotten the hang of wheeling my chair without bumping into the wall on the left side. I’m definitely better at it. But I’m still terrible. It’s so frustrating when I think that I’m just heading straight, and then all of a sudden I slam into a wall.
When we get to the porch, I’m surprised to see that Jamie is already out there. His father is with him, and so is his son, Sam. I guess Jamie got over his embarrassment at the idea of Sam seeing him in the hospital. Sam seems so hyper, running back and forth across the porch, and then jumping back and forth across the porch on one foot. It makes me feel a little bit sad watching him somehow. I wish I could jump on one foot. I wonder if that’s something I’ll be able to do again. Probably not.
Jamie’s face lights up when he sees me. “Hey, Charly,” he says. “You remember my son, right?”
“Of course I do,” I say. Although with my memory the way it is, it’s entirely possible that I might not have remembered him. But I do.
“Daddy,” Sam says, hopping between his feet. “Can we play catch?”
Jamie hesitates only a moment before he says, “You got a ball?”
Sam nods eagerly. “Yeah. Mommy bought me one this morning.”
I expect that Jamie will fly into a rage at the mention of Karen like he did before. But he doesn’t. He seems to completely take it in stride that Sam was visiting with his mother this morning.
“Okay,” he says. “Let’s play.”
While Sam runs off to locate the ball in Mr. Knox’s bag, Jamie leans in to talk to me quietly. “I’m letting Karen have a trial of visitation,” he explains. “She’s agreed to submit to random drug testing. If it goes okay, we can split custody.”
“Wow,” I say. “You seemed really angry at her. I didn’t think you’d agree.”
“Yeah…” He heaves a sigh. “I’m not thrilled about it. But… she is his mom, and… well, I think we can all agree that I could use some help right now.”
Sam comes up with a white wiffle ball. I’m not particularly surprised that Jamie has a lot of trouble aiming the ball. His throws all seem to miss Sam by about two feet. Luckily, Sam doesn’t seem to have too much of a problem with chasing down the ball. The kid has endless energy. It makes me worry that Jamie isn’t going to be able to keep up with him after he gets out of here.
“You have the worst aim I’ve ever seen,” I say to Jamie.
Jamie looks in my direction. He smiles. “Oh really? Well, I’d like to see you do better, Dr. McKenna.”
I hold out my right hand, and Jamie places the ball inside. As he hands over the ball, his thumb rubs briefly against the side of my palm. At first I think it’s probably an accident, but then he winks at me and I wonder.
“All right,” Jamie says to Sam. “Charly is going to throw you the ball, and attempt to completely humiliate me by being awesome at it. Maybe you should back up.”
He’s teasing me. I can tell he doesn’t think I’m going to be able to throw the ball very well. I draw back my arm, cock my wrist, and hurl the ball at Sam. Even though Sam isn’t much better at catching the ball than his dad is at throwing it, the ball lands squarely in his hands.
Jamie raises his eyebrows at me. “Holy shit,” he says. Then he glances at his son, and quickly says, “I mean, great throw.”
“Charly played softball in high school and college,” my mother speaks up. “She’s always been a really great athlete.” Although I can tell she seems a little surprised as well.
“Is that so?” Jamie asks. He actually looks pretty impressed.
“Apparently,” I say with a modest shrug.
“Again!” Sam orders. He tosses the ball at me, but he’s off by about a foot, and I’m terrible at catching things anyway. My depth perception is completely off.
We spend the better part of the next hour on the porch playing catch. It’s the most fun I’ve had in a long time. Maybe years.
Chapter 43
Five Months After
“How did the meeting go yesterday?” Angela asks me during our Walking Group.
Jamie is taking his turn walking right now. He’s doing way better now than he was before, when we both started in this group together. He can walk pretty well with the cane right now. He has to lean heavily on it, and sometimes he loses his balance so that Natalie has to catch him, but right now, he manages to make it all the way across the gym without a problem.
I’m jealous.
“It went well,” I say. “Actually, my husband was there. I’m going to go home with him when I leave here.”
Angela raises her eyebrows. “Your husband? Are you still with him?”
“Of course I’m still with him,” I say.
Angela gives me a pointed look. “He hasn’t been by here once the whole time I’ve known you.”
I clear my throat. “We’ve had some problems. But I think we fixed them. Anyway, I want to go home with him.”
Jamie falls back into his wheelchair just in time to hear the end of our conversation. I see a couple of beads of sweat on his forehead because it’s still an effort for him to walk across the gym and back. He frowns at me. “Home with who?”
“My husband,” I say when Angela is silent.
Jamie’s eyes widen. “Your husband? But I thought that you and I…” His voice trails off. “I mean, I didn’t even think you were with him anymore.”
Humph.
“I don’t know why everyone keeps saying that,” I say. “I never said I wasn’t with him.”
“Then why doesn’t he visit you?” Jamie asks, the volume of his voice now several notches higher. “He hasn’t been here once, has he?”
“He does visit me,” I say, even though it’s not really true. “You just haven’t seen him.”
Jamie frowns, but he doesn’t say anything else. I don’t know why he cares anyway. Jamie and Angela are both going to walk out of here. I won’t. They really shouldn’t be judging me.
“Is this Walking Group?” a voice from behind me asks. “I’m looking for Charlotte.”
I recognize Clark’s voice before I even turn my head. He’s dressed casually, in jeans and a T-shirt, and he looks so healthy compared with the rest of us. Angela turns to look at him, and her eyes start bugging out.
“Is that your husband?” she hisses at me, grabbing my arm. She shakes her head. “Charly, you never told me how hot he was!”
I shrug, but secretly I feel sort of pleased. I raise my right hand to wave at Clark. “I’m here,” I say.
Clark glances awkwardly around the room then walks over to where I’m sitting. “Valerie told me to come fetch you,” he explains.
“For what?”
“She wants to start teaching me how to take care of you,” he says. He shrugs. “I guess they feel you need to leave here sooner rather than later.”
“Okay,” I say. A week ago, that would’ve really scared me. But now that I know I’m going home with my husband, it doesn’t bother me nearly as much.
Clark seizes the handle of my chair and pushes me out of the gym, and down the hallway to my room. I am getting slightly better at pushing the chair myself, but it’s a slow process, and half the time I bump into a wall. I don’t want Clark to see me hitting the wall. So I just let him push me.
Valerie is waiting in my room. When I come in, the first thing she does is look down at her watch and roll her eyes. “Well,” she says, “the only thing we have time for is to do a transfer, considering you’re forty-five minutes late to our session.”
I feel my cheeks get hot. “I am?”
“Not you,” Valerie says. She’s looking at Clark.
“I’m really sorry about that,” he says. “Something really important came up.”
Valerie just shakes her head.
The first thing Valerie demonstrates is how to transfer me out of the wheelchair into my bed. I can’t really help with that, so it’s lucky she’s very strong. The first thing she does is remove the right armrest of my chair and both leg rests. Then she stands in front of me, with my knees between her knees, bracing me. She bends forward, and I grab onto her shoulder with my right hand, and she puts my left hand on her shoulder. She grabs onto my pants then basically lifts me out of the chair and onto the bed. I can’t really help at all, aside from hanging onto her with my right hand.
Once I’m sitting on the bed, I feel like I’m upright, but I suspect that I might be leaning to the left by the way Valerie keeps holding on to me. She helps me get back into a lying down position. And then we’re done.
“Easy as pie,” Valerie says. Except I think she might be being sarcastic, because there’s a line of sweat at the top of her forehead. Plus Valerie is sarcastic a lot. I can only tell sometimes.
Valerie gets me back into the wheelchair, then she steps aside to let Clark have a turn doing the transfer. He looks really nervous, but like he always does when he’s nervous, he acts extremely confident, like he’s done this a million times before.
Clark braces my knees with his like Valerie did, then I put my right hand on his shoulder. His shoulder feels so broad and strong compared with Valerie’s. It makes something stir inside me, something long forgotten. I check Clark’s face, to see if maybe he’s feeling the same way, but he’s just looking down at my lap.
I feel Clark’s fingers lace into the waistband of my sweatpants. “Okay, now lift,” Valerie instructs him.
I feel myself rising into the air, but I don’t feel secure like the way I did when Valerie was lifting me. I feel anxious, like he might drop me. I tighten my grip on his shoulder, but at the same time, I feel my left arm slide off him.
“You have to brace her,” Valerie says.
“I’m doing it,” Clark insists.
I feel myself falling to the left side, and my heart starts to pound as I realize there’s nothing I can do to prevent this from happening. But fortunately, Valerie is there to support me, and I make it to the bed without incident.
“If you don’t brace her,” Valerie says, “you’re going to drop her.”
“I was bracing her,” Clark says.
Valerie squints at him. “Are you seriously not aware that you almost dropped her?”
“We would’ve been fine.”
Valerie sighs and shakes her head. They practice the transfer back to my chair, and then back to the bed again. The second time, Clark does much better. Or at least, he doesn’t almost drop me.
“That’s all we have time for today,” Valerie says. She looks at him pointedly. “Next time, hopefully you can come on time.”
Clark nods. “For sure.”
Valerie nods back at him. She looks down at me, lying in bed. “Charly, you have another hour until your next therapy. Do you want to stay in bed?”
Despite the fact that Valerie and Clark did all the work, I feel exhausted. “Yes,” I say.
“Okay,” Valerie says. “Let me take your helmet off for you.”
Valerie reaches down and undoes the strap under my chin. I feel a rush of relief as that heavy helmet lifts from my skull. I immediately reach up to scratch my head, but then remember I’m not supposed to and lower my hand again. If they see me scratching, Valerie will put the helmet back on.
