Well, it’s great news that I’m going to be OK. A lot of people in hospitals don’t get to hear news like this from their doctors, but I still can’t get over that I was in a coma. I mean, my God, a coma! That’s something you see on a soap opera. Not something that happens to a normal person like me, and for over seven days! It’s hard for me to wrap my head around this. It must mean the events of the past week were nothing more than an extended dream. Could this possibly be true? I look down at my left arm, no bite marks.
I look up at the doctor and, although I can’t speak, I do my best to show approval in my face. He tells me I’ll need additional tests, but at this point I’ve tuned him out. There’s so much to absorb and it doesn’t help he’s using medical jargon that I don’t understand. What I do pay attention to comes at the end.
“For now, relax and get some rest. If you need anything, just press the red button and Nurse Jackie will get to you right away. It’s right here.”
He shows me, on the outside of the armrest, the button I was searching for. I didn’t have the energy to stretch out that far earlier. Once I give a nod, the doctor and “Nurse Jackie” exit the room and leave me to my thoughts.
Every fifteen minutes or so I test out my voice. It seems to get better with each attempt, just as the doctor said it would. I’m tired, and I wonder how that can be when I’ve just slept for seven days straight. When you are in a coma, does it count as sleeping? I make a mental note to add this to my list of questions, although that one is far down on the list.
I’m more interested in how and why I’m here. Just as I feel good enough to carry on a conversation, though, fatigue takes over and I fall asleep.
When I wake up, three new doctors are whispering amongst themselves beside my bed. One has a clipboard and is writing whatever the other two doctors are telling her. When I listen in, I hear they are discussing my condition. Again, the medical jargon is too much for me to understand, but their enthusiasm makes it sound like I’m some sort of miracle patient. I’m not sure if they know I’m awake or not, but I find it rather annoying they would be in my room talking while I’m supposedly asleep.
“Excuse me, can I help you?”
Three heads jerk up at me like deer seeing headlights. They are so startled by my awakening they don’t say anything, so I break the silence.
“Is there something I can do for you?” A tone of resentment slips in my voice.
“No sir,” the doctor on the far left says. “Is there something we can do for you?”
“Can you please bring Nurse Jackie in?”
“Oh, yes. Right away. I’ll page her now.”
And with that, the three doctors scurry out of the room.
While waiting for Nurse Jackie, my heart rate starts to pick up. I was hoping to plan out some questions to ask. It may be better this way, though; I won’t have to drive myself crazy over-analyzing things. It takes ten excruciating minutes, but Nurse Jackie finally walks in. I see in her face that she’s just as scared as I am.
“Hello Andrew, what can I do for you?”
I don’t know where to begin and I’m terrified of the answers she’s about to give me, but I tell myself I have to find out sooner or later.
“I have a lot of questions to ask you.”
She looks at me hesitantly then finally says, “I figured that. Keep in mind I’m not allowed to answer anything except for specific medical questions.”
“But I don’t have specific medical questions. I have questions about where I am and how I got here.”
“Yeah, those are questions that I should let the doctor handle.”
“Well…” I hesitate. “Can you at least tell me where I am?”
“You are in the Ohio State Medical Wexner Center.”
“How did I get here?”
“I’m not allowed to answer that.”
“OK, umm how long have I been here?” I know the answer to this, but I’m lousy with interrogating someone and this question buys me some time.
“You came in last Tuesday. Today is Wednesday the week after, so you’ve been here eight days.”
“Has anyone been in to see me?”
“Yes, your parents have been here the entire time,” Nurse Jackie quickly tells me.
“What about Abby? Has she been here too?”
Nurse Jackie pauses for a moment before responding, deciding how best to phrase her answer. Then she says, “I’m not allowed to answer that.”
Her answer infuriates me and before I have a chance to control my anger I blurt out, “And why the hell not?”
She pauses, “Something has happened Andrew. Something bad. I’ve been ordered not to tell, but something happened to your wife.”
With this, I sit up for the first time in eight days. I want to stand up and run out the door but I don’t know what’s hooked up to me.
“What do you mean something has happened?”
“I’m not allowed to say. Please Andrew, let me go get the doctor and I’ll have him answer any questions you have.” She starts to back up toward the door, but before she moves far, I reach out and grab her.
“What happened to Abby?” I plead.
Nurse Jackie looks at me, eyes bulging now. I never realized a scrawny guy who has just come out of a coma could be so intimidating. She looks at me and swallows before speaking.
“Andrew, your wife was attacked. You’re both being treated here at the hospital.”
“Attacked? What do you mean attacked?”
“We don’t know all of the details, but police officers are set up everywhere investigating the situation. I’ll tell you that the attacker didn’t survive, but they didn’t give me any further details on that when I asked.” Nurse Jackie’s voice trails off.
My first thought was good; that son-of-a-bitch is dead. I don’t know what he did to my Abby, but if he weren’t dead he would be later when I beat him to death.
“What about Abby? How is she doing?”
“I’ve said more than enough. But Andrew, we’re hopeful she’s going to be all right.”
“Well, how bad is she?”
With this, Nurse Jackie starts crying. This surprises me because I’ve always assumed nurses were emotionless by nature. Not saying that’s a bad thing; when you have patients die every day, I understand you probably develop a thick skin. Nurse Jackie does look very young, like she’s still in college. Maybe she’s still in the beginning stages of controlling her emotions.
“I’m really sorry about the situation you’re in, Andrew. I haven’t worked directly with her but I hear she’s been having a difficult recovery. The doctors can’t seem to figure out what’s going on with her. I’m sure they’re doing their best.” And with that, she walks out of the room.
Chapter 22
For the next three days, I never see Nurse Jackie but I do have a constant stream of attendants. Nurses come in like clockwork every hour to check the monitor and jot things down on their clipboards. Every time they come in, I tell them I want to see Abby or my parents. Whenever I say anything, though, they pretend I’m not even there.
I’m far from one hundred percent both mentally and physically. I still can’t remember what happened on the day of my coma. Memories start to come in from the days before, but just subtle ones. I remember the weekend before Tuesday’s events; Abby and I went to dinner and a movie. A lousy comedy accompanied by a pretty good Mexican dinner. Everything was just so normal. How could someone possibly have attacked Abby that Tuesday? Abby is such a sweet girl — that’s why I married her. She didn’t have an enemy in the world — at least, none that I knew of. Somebody attacking her must be a random occurrence. That’s the only possible explanation. What doesn’t add up in my mind, though, is why I’m lying here in a hospital bed too. Nurse Jackie said that Abby was attacked, but she didn’t say anything about me. Was my reason for being in here related to Abby? I would think so. It’s far-fetched odds to have two unrelated causes for having serious injuries at the same time. My head swells with thoughts of an elaborate car chase with the attacker; shots are fired and I do everything I can to save my beloved Abby. Then, in some unforeseen event, we both crash and end up where we are now. That’s how I would like to think things went, but knowing myself it was probably far less adventurous.