Updated! Terminal Velocity

Originally posted by Aunt Becky at Mommy Wants Vodka.

She comes into full view from my spot on the gurney and I only know that my parents are going to be so pissed at me.

Rebecca, keep your eyes OPEN. Now, open them. No, don’t cry – everything will be okay.

I try to tell her that I’m sleepy, that I should go to sleep, but what comes out is my address:

734 Bluff Street apartment 101. 734 Bluff Street apartment 101. 734 Bluff Street apartment 101.

Rebecca, do you know what year it is? Do you know what happened? Who’s the current president?

I try to remember the answers that should be staring me in the face. The words are elusive. What comes out is:

734 Bluff Street apartment 101. 734 Bluff Street apartment 101. 734 Bluff Street apartment 101.

She motions to someone out of view – another parametric? The driver? I can’t be certain if we are, indeed, moving.

Suddenly another face appears in my line of site. This one looks extremely concerned.

734 Bluff Street apartment 101. 734 Bluff Street apartment 101. 734 Bluff Street apartment 101.

I can hear myself speak, my voice is wobbly and nearly impossible to understand.

The new person produces a pair of scissors and begins to cut off my pants while the first parametric continues with the questions and begins palpating my leg. I scream. Fuck, I realize, I broke my hip and femur again.

Rebecca, who is the current president? Do you know what happened to you?

Trying to shake my head no, I realize they have stabilized my neck. Frighteningly, I have absolutely zero memory of the incident leading up to this ambulance – I only know that my femur and hip are broken. For the second time in two months.

Once again, the correct answers get hung up somewhere between my gallbladder and my pancreas and can’t make it to my mouth:

734 Bluff Street apartment 101. 734 Bluff Street apartment 101. 734 Bluff Street apartment 101.

Then it all goes black.

———-

Surgery went well, the surgeon updates my parents. We removed all but one screw of the old hardware from her last hip and femur break. The last break, when exactly was that?

End of September, early October. She had an orthopedic doctor before – why isn’t he involved in her care?

This break was far more extensive and the surgery was far more complex than the last one, so Dr. Choi called me in. I deal with traumatic orthopedic surgeries. She’d snapped the titanium rod in two pieces.

Wow.

It was by far one of the worst breaks I’ve seen in all my years doing this.

Thank you for your update. When can we see our daughter?

There was a complication with the surgery.

A complication? What happened?

Well, he faltered a bit. She still hasn’t woken up from her surgery.

WHAT? Why? What happened?

We’re not sure what happened. We’d like run some additional tests, and do an EEG to determine if she has brain activity.

Yes, absolutely. Please run all the tests you feel important.

———-

She has an infection, this may be contributing to why she hasn’t yet woken up after surgery, I could hear the doctor. The cultures from her femur are a nasty group d streptococcus. She’s going to both need a central line and indefinite antibiotics.

Indefinite?

Yes. Absolutely indefinite. We don’t know what’s causing the coma, we only know that she has brain waves indicative of excellent brain function.

It’s been 4 weeks and nothing. Not a single change in her condition.

I’m terribly sorry, the doctor continues. There’s only so much we can know about the inner-workings of the human brain brain and its response to traumatic events.

———-

She is terminal. We are very sorry. We’ve done all we can, I can hear them say. Her children should say their goodbyes.

I’m right here, I try to scream.

———-

I woke up the next day.

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