“I'm sorry-”
“STOP SAYING ‘I'M SORRY’!” Flinch. “Sorry. I’m sorry, it’s just you worked too hard to stop saying sorry to everyone all the time. You have changed, Suzanne. You're really different now. Do you remember? Do you remember changing? You aren't her anymore. You are Suzanne now.” Wow, as if I don't know my own name.
Staring at me, this woman seems to be waiting for something. What does she want from me? Actually, she seems kind of crazy and confused. I think she must be crazy. She doesn't know me, and she doesn't know what I say or do. She must be delusional, I think. I wonder what I can do to get her out of my room.
“Please, Suzanne… remember me. Just try to remember. I'm tied with the other Kayla as your second-place best friends. We’re tied in second- me and Kayla. We’re your two Kaylas. Please remember me if you can- just a little.”
When she bursts into tears, I think I feel bad for her. She looks so lovely, but kind of gross when she cries. I definitely feel bad for her because it's clear that she's TOTALLY insane. I’m pretty sure I don't feel scared of her though, just bad for her.
I wish I could help her. She obviously needs help, but I'm not sure what to do for her. Where is a doctor? Maybe a doctor can get her out of my room. Maybe a doctor can help her. Maybe I should page a doctor to my room for her.
“Um, excuse me, but do you have someone you can talk to? Do you have a doctor who can maybe help you a little? Maybe if you find your doctor he can help you find your friend,” I whisper, so she won't get mad at me again.
“A doctor? You’re trying to get me a doctor? You have no idea how fucking funny that is under the circumstances, I realize. But it IS quite funny. I don't need a doctor Suzanne, but you obviously do. You don't know anything, do you?”
“I'm sorry, but I have no idea what's wrong with you, or what I've done to upset you. I'm really trying to be nice here but you seem so sad and confused. I just thought you could use a friend, or maybe a doctor to talk to so that maybe you won't look this sad anymore.”
“I'm not sad, Suzanne. Well actually, I'm devastated, but you don't know why, do you? So really, my devastation is kind of a moot point. I don't need a doctor, but I do have one should the need arise. I do however need my friend back. I need you, but you're not here with me are you?” Holy shit! This woman is nuts.
“Okay miss, I'll get a doctor for myself, and maybe I can get a doctor for you too. Would you like that, um...?”
“I’m KAYLA! New. York. Fucking. KAYLA!! Fuck, Suzanne, THINK!! REMEMBER ME!!”
Shaking, I'm at a total loss. I don't know why this woman is here, and I don't know why she's so mad at me. I don't know what I did to upset her and I don't know why she's still here. What the hell do I do? Lie!
“Oh, I remember you now- of course. You're my friend from New York who I visited in Manhattan. I remember now. We had fun shopping and driving around. Thank you for coming to see me but would you mind if I had a little rest now? Would you mind if I was alone for a few minutes? I'd love for you to return another day, though. Thank you for your friendship, um...”
“Kayla…” she moans. “My name is Kayla, but you always called me New York Kayla, or 'this Kayla' when in New York or 'that Kayla' when in Chicago. I am your second best friend, tied with Chicago Kayla. I. Am. Kayla. I am your New. York. Kayla.” Oh my god. This Kayla is certifiable.
“I know that, I really do. You're my New York Kayla. I remember now. Thanks for visiting me New York Kayla, but can I please be alone for a few minutes? Would you mind, um, New York Kayla just giving me a minute or two alone?” There, I think that was convincing. Jesus, my heart is pounding again.
“Sure, Suzanne, I'll leave you alone. Have a little rest, and maybe when you wake up again you'll remember me. Maybe after another rest, you'll remember us. Go ahead and have a rest.”
“Thank you New York Kayla and I do apologize for upsetting you, but that was never my intention.”
“I know it wasn't your intention, Suzanne. It's never your intention to upset anyone, but you always do anyway.” What? “It seems like every single minute with you is upsetting to those of us who love you, for those of us who care about you. All you do, though NOT your intention, is upset us. But please, don't apologize- please don't say ‘you're sorry’. I hate it, and so does everyone else who loves you. All of us who you can't remember hate it when you say you're sorry to us.”
“Um, okay, I won't apologize anymore. Thank you New York Kayla. I'll try to be better next time we see each other so I won't upset you anymore. Thank you, and I promise I remember you now.”
“Sure you do.”
“I do, New York Kayla. I promise.”
“Well, Suzanne…” she practically snarls at me. “If you honestly remembered me you wouldn't call me ‘New York’ Kayla to my face.” What?! I swear to god, I don't get this woman. At all. “If you really remembered, you would know I am just Kayla when we're talking, unless I'm with the other Kayla, or when you're talking about us to someone else. When talking to me I'm just Kayla- your friend Kayla. To my face you just call me Kayla because it doesn’t make sense to call me New York Kayla to my face.”
Shaking her head, and wiping her eyes JUST Kayla rises from the chair without looking at me. Turning from me completely, she seems awful walking toward the door. God, this woman is just so sad suddenly. It's almost heartbreaking. I really hope she gets the help she needs and I really hope she finds her real friend soon. I hate seeing her leave looking so broken.
“Bye, Suzanne. I'll see you later. Um, I still love you...” she whispers from the doorway.
Wow, what a sad thing to hear. I don't know who she loves, but I hope she finds them soon. I hope her real friend can be found.
Maybe when a doctor comes in, I'll tell them about her so they can help her. Maybe she’s just lost or can't find her room. Oh! Maybe her friend died and I look like her or something so she's crazy with grief. Maybe she's just lonely and needs a friend. God, I hope she finds a real friend soon so she's not so lonely anymore.
Ugh, I don't want to think about her sadness anymore because now I'm kind of sad myself. I feel lonely and just weird. I hate all this quiet, but I hate all the noise too.
I wish Marcus would come to take me home. I want my own house, with my own sunroom. I want to go home and be safe and NOT sad in my own home. I just want to go home so I'm not sad anymore.
Closing my eyes, I try to exhale all that Kayla stuff. I feel terrible for her, but she makes me feel terrible, which really isn't fair. I'm stuck in this hospital bed with tubes and IV's and stuff all over me so I can't move or get away. I'm trapped here, but I'm trapped awake this time.
Maybe if I fall asleep, I'll fall back into that long dream I had. Maybe I'll float away and dream about Marcus and my parents again. Maybe I'll float away and dream about things I actually understand.
Maybe I'll just float away, completely.
CHAPTER 11
MAY 13
Waking, I feel like I'm not alone. I'm never alone, but feeling not alone is way creepier than knowing you're not alone.
Shifting slightly on my bed, I can't believe how stiff my body feels. It's like every muscle I have is all tight and like scrunched up, or something. Ugh.
“Here, let me help you sit up a little.”
Opening my eyes, I see Dr. MacDonald again. Huh. I wonder if this guy sleeps.
“How are you feeling, Suzanne?”
“Fine. Stiff, actually. My whole body is tight and kind of warm.”
“Well, you've been asleep for a while, so your body needs to adjust to movement again, but it'll come. You have to start Physio-Therapy as soon as you can to stop any further muscle atrophy, but otherwise, it'll just take a little time and all the muscle tightness should start to fade. Generally speaking, muscle atrophy begins within weeks of immobility, but you shouldn't have any long-term issues with muscle degeneration or muscle weakness.”
“Oh, good. Um, how long was I asleep? No one has act
ually told me what happened to me.”
“A little over 12 weeks.”
“Oh. Wow, that’s so long. Am I okay? I mean, am I okay?” Duh. I sound so stupid.
“Yes, you're okay, and you're going to be better now. You were in another coma for these last 12 weeks but you seem to be relatively well now.” A coma? Another coma? What the hell does that mean?
“I don't remember another coma Dr. MacDonald. Was I little or something before?”
“No. You were in a medically-induced coma last year for a few weeks after you had a brain aneurism rupture. Do you remember anything about that time?”
“No, I'm sorry.” Holy shit! 2 comas? What the hell is wrong with me?
“It's alright. No need to be sorry. You were quite sick last year, but you made a remarkable recovery. Do you remember anything about being sick last year?”
“No. I'm... I don't remember being sick at all. Where's Marcus?”
I'm starting to feel a little uncomfortable with this doctor. He keeps looking at me so intensely, but he's also so calm and relaxed that I'm feeling like I'm doing something wrong but he doesn't want to tell me what it is. Why doesn't he just tell me what he wants?
“Marcus had to go away for a few days. He's very sorry to not be here with you, but he couldn't put off the trip, so he sends his regards. I'm sure he'll be here as soon as he can though.”
Why doesn't that surprise me? I can't help but giggle a little. I mean, come on! Your wife wakes up after 12 weeks in a friggin’ coma and you can't get out of a business trip? Who does that? Speaking of colossal disappointments, where the hell are my parents anyway?
“Are you okay, Suzanne? You seem a little nervous or something. Marcus really does wish he could be here, but he had to straighten a few things out first.”
“I'm sure he did. Where are my parents? Have they been here?”
“Do you want them here?” What? What a strange question. Of course I ... DON’T! Ha! Oops. Giggle.
“Suzanne, would you like your parents here? It’s okay to answer truthfully. You can be honest with me. I promise you can confide in me and I won't tell anyone anything you tell me.”
“Of course I do. They're my parents, Dr. MacDonald.”
“Suzanne, do you really want your parents here?”
“Yes. I miss my mother.” Giggle again. Shit. As if I miss her. “I'm sorry. I'm not sure why I'm laughing.”
“Suzanne, do you really want your mother here?” He asks again very seriously.
“Um, no. Not really,” I whisper. Shit.
“It's okay; I promise you I won't repeat anything you say to me. Do you know why you don't want your mother here?”
“No, not really. My mother is very intense and uptight sometimes, and I think she'll be mad at me for being in a coma, which sounds weird I know, but she's like that. I think she'll be disappointed in me for being in the hospital because I was in a coma, so she won't be very nice to me.” Exhale.
“I understand, though being in a coma is a fairly good reason for being in the hospital, wouldn't you agree?” He asks while smirking at me. This guy is kind of funny.
“Yes, a coma sounds like a perfectly reasonable reason for being in the hospital but my mother isn't always so perfectly reasonable. So I try to never do anything wrong. And I think being in the hospital is wrong somehow, or at least she'll think it is. So I'm a little nervous about seeing her. Do you know when she should arrive?”
God, I’m going to have to prepare myself for her arrival so I'm not so scared when she gets here.
“Suzanne, your parents won't be visiting you anytime soon. They're unavailable at the moment so they can't be here with you. That may be disappointing, but-”
“Oh, it’s not! That's awesome. I really don't want to see her, so this worked out perfectly.”
Yes! My mother won't be here, so I'm okay for now. I wonder what they're doing, but then again, maybe if I know what they’re doing the doctor will find them and tell them I'm awake and then she'll come here. It’s probably best to not ask.
“Would you tell me when she's coming for me though? Would you please give me some notice so I can prepare myself for her? Is that okay, Dr. MacDonald?”
“Absolutely. I promise to let you know.”
Staring at the doctor he smiles at me and I feel like maybe I can trust him. He seems like he'll tell me when she's coming for me, so until then I'll try to relax a little.
“What are you thinking about, Suzanne?”
“Nothing. I'm... nothing. I'm good. How did I get here? What happened?”
“You had a car accident. Do you remember that?”
“No… I don't think so.”
An accident? Shit, I hope I was driving my car and not Marcus’. He'll kill me if I damaged his car.
“Was I driving Marcus car in the accident?”
“No, why?”
“I was just wondering.”
“Why were you wondering?”
“It's nothing. I was just curious.”
“Why were you curious?” God, this guy is so pushy, but he does it all calm-like, so it’s kind of hard to ignore his questions when he sits so calmly waiting for my response.
“Marcus loves his car. I just wanted to make sure I didn't damage it so he wouldn't be mad at me. That's all.”
“I wonder if he would still be angry at you if you did crash his car, even though you were seriously injured, AND you've just woken from a coma. Don't you think he would care more about your safety and health than for his car?”
“No, not really.” Ooops. “Oh, of course he would, but he would still be disappointed if I crashed his car.” Ugh. This still sounds bad. “No, I'm sure he wouldn't be disappointed. Marcus will be thrilled that I'm better now, I know he will be.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. Marcus loves me, and he would choose me over his car. I'm sure of it.” Am I?
“Well, that's good. And you can relax because you didn't crash his car, though even if you had you're certainly worth much more than a car.”
Looking at the doctor, I'm suddenly overcome with emotion. Why the hell am I crying? He was just being nice, and I'm crying over his niceness? I'm crying?
“Are you okay? Why are you so sad suddenly?”
“I’m not sure. You just said something nice and it made me cry, I think. It's pathetic really, but hearing Marcus would pick me over his car feels good. I know it's probably stupid to you but it means something to me, I think.”
“That’s not stupid. Everyone wants to know that they're valuable to someone else. Everyone wants to feel important to someone else. And everyone, myself included, wants to know they're more important than, say, a car.” Smirk again.
Giggling, I whisper a thanks to him for being nice to me, and just stay quiet for a minute. It's like I'm basking in his simple little nicety. Why does his nice seem so important to me?
“Why are you still here?”
“I'm your doctor, Suzanne. Your private physician, actually. It’s my job to be here with you, but even if it wasn't my job I would be here regardless. Do you remember anything about me, Suzanne? Do you remember that I'm your doctor?”
“Yes, you told me that. But I don’t understand why I have a personal physician.” Who does that?
“Last year when you were very sick I became your doctor, and I'm still on retainer as such.” Wow, really? “You needed me then, so I've been your doctor and your very close friend ever since. I've been waiting for you to wake up so I could help you get better again. And I'm thrilled that you're finally recovering. Is there anything else you want to know? Is there anything else you want to ask me?” Huh. Only like a million questions.
“Why don't I remember you from before?” I whisper.
“Suzanne, you are suffering from a form of presumably temporary memory-loss. Many, if not most patients who find themselves awake after a coma have a mild to moderate form of amnesia, and it's quite normal. In theory, comas lasting even
weeks can result in post-traumatic amnesia, or PTA, that lasts months; with a recovery rate occurring over weeks and months, or more severely over the course of years. It’s almost as if, for every week in a coma, patients need approximately that many months to retain all their previous memories...
“But it’s very rare for patients to have long term memory loss, especially after such a short time span as you were in the coma. Again, PTA is very standard and your memory loss is almost certainly short term. Some patients literally wake up a few days later with all their memories, or again, some need a little more time for the memories to eventually return.”
“Okay... So maybe soon I'll remember you?”
“I trust that you will. We were very, very close, therefore I'm confident you'll remember me sooner rather than later. And I promise, once you remember your past you'll see that I can be trusted, and you'll probably relax a little while you recover fully. Do you have any more questions for me? Feel free to ask me anything, as I said earlier.”
“No, I'm good, but I'm kind of tired now. Do you mind if I sleep for a little bit?”
“Not at all. Suzanne, you're going to sleep frequently in the next few weeks, which is also standard for post-coma patients as well. You may also feel confused or depressed from time to time, which is also quite typical, and something we’ll monitor closely in the coming weeks. But if you should feel overwhelmed or depressed, please let me know immediately so I can help you at the onset.”
“Okay. Thanks for telling me. I didn't want to seem all dramatic for feeling kind of tired and sad.”
“You're not dramatic. You're just dealing with a new challenge, and you'll need my help along the way, which I'm here for.”