How I Learned to Live Again

Chapter 6

The story is finally going to pick up soon. I really am sorry for taking so long to get the plot going, I just wasn't sure how to write it. Hope you enjoy, and thanks for reading!

~e
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I haven't had any rehab yet. To tell the truth, I'm kind of looking forward to it. Although, I am sort of excited right now, because today they're using the hoist again and I get to go outside! I haven't been outside in almost a month and it'll be really good to breathe the fresh air. Through the machine.

The nurses and the doctor come in at their usual time and start setting up my hoist and chair. They lift me up like usual and detach me once I'm in the chair. Then they do what they didn't do last time, which is secure my arms, torso, and legs down with straps. It's not like I can move of feel it anyway, and I can still move my hands, so it doesn't really make a difference. I guess this is to protect from wind? But I couldn't be sure. So much goes on that I have no idea what it is, it's crazy. And it's all on my body, too! Oy.

They push me outside. It's so refreshing to be in actual, non-artificial light for once! And I can smell the flowers, hear the birds, it's great - until I notice something. There's a girl who is propped up in a wheelchair and surrounded by nurses, much like I am. On closer inspection, she appears to be my age, too. She looks very vacant. I wonder what's wrong with her. I ask Joanne to get me a bit closer and I notice something horrible. It's Ashley. It can't be, but it is. She is drooling and her eyes are glazed but it is her. Her head has been shaved and she has huge surgery scars on her skull, but it is Ashley. Oh my God.

"Mom? Mom!" I call out. My mom rushes over. "Is that...Ashley?" My mom nods and says softly, "We hoped you wouldn't notice her."

I gasp quietly. "What...what happened?"

My mom shakes her head. "Apparently, Ashley was actually hit by the truck. You were ejected from the car but she was on the side it hit you. I guess she has a Traumatic Brain Injury. Something that might leave her a vegetable. I'm sorry, baby." She rubs my shoulder. I don't feel it.

I want nothing more than to run over to Ashley and give her a huge hug. We always had the best hugs, but now that will never happen. Oh my God, and all because we wanted to go to the movies. Oh my God.
I begin to feel the familiar wave of nausea come over me.

"Joanne, Joanne, I'm gonna be sick again," I say weakly. She rushes to put the bowl under me but it is too late. Once again I vomit, but this time my neck throws back like it did a few days ago before I had the brace. Nothing comes up, but I suddenly feel myself losing air.
I start hitting the side of the chair to get attention.
"Oh my God, she's choking." Dr. DeLeon quickly begins detaching the straps and starts to clap my back. Nothing happens, I just keep gasping for air. The tube has come detached from my thrashing. The only thought running through my head is that I might die. I made it this far and this is how I'm going to go? No, no. Everything starts fading to black like it so often does, and I feel myself losing consciousness.

I wake up sometime later to my mom speaking in hushed tones. "It was my fault, I shouldn't have startled her like that. And whatever's going on with her gag reflex needs to be figured out too." The calm whispers of Dr. DeLeon seemed to soothe her, and they both eventually left the room. Suddenly a strange fury washes over me. I will get out of this bed. I will. I find the button and push myself up to a seated position. From there, I attempt to move my legs over the side of the bed. It works, and I get so far as to lean my upper body against the edge of the bed. A job well done, I think. But my hopes are soon dashed when I collapse onto myself into a helpless ball. I feel myself grow heavy and I fall to the floor. The thump seems to alarm Joanne, who comes rushing in.

"Oh, my God, Jessa, baby, what happened?" She calls for help and the strongest male nurse comes in. He lifts my limp frame off the floor and guides my body back into the bed. Then comes my least favorite part. Even in my despair, he feels the need to arrange my limbs like I'm a puppet. When everyone leaves again I sob to myself. When will I heal? Will I learn to live again? Or am I just always going to be in this hospital? I find myself contemplating these things long into the night. I don't remember falling asleep, but at some point, the nightmare I was living became one I dreamed of.
***
I've been in here two months now. I'm breathing on my own, finally. I can eat again, and my vitals are steady. Dr. DeLeon says I'm progressing. That soon I'll be able to move into a rehab center. I'm excited. Maybe I'll be able to relearn how to hold my head up. I feel like if I can do that, it'll really be a big step in my recovery. Or, whatever they want to call it. My new life.
I'm sleeping a lot these days. I guess it's because my body's trying to adjust. I just don't like always being tired. I also haven't seen what I look like in literally 3 months, so a mirror would be nice. I feel bad asking any of the nurses, though, they're always so busy doing other things (to keep me alive). The fact is, I don't really care what I look like right now.
Not my biggest concern.

As I think, Dascha comes in smiling. "Good morning, Jessa." That's another thing. My sense of time has been pretty messed up lately from sleeping like 16 hours a day. It's weird, man.
"Good morning?" I respond.
"I have some good news. Today we're going to transport you to the rehab center!" A smile breaks over my face. Finally! I've been in here so long, and a change of scenery (plus therapy) will do me a lot of good.

"Yay! When are we leaving?" I ask.

"Pretty soon, actually," she responds. "After your bladder bag is emptied and all of the machines are disconnected you're going to go in a helicopter." It's still uncomfortable for me to talk about the bladder bag. I know it's better than the alternative but I just wish I could do something (anything) by myself.

And then I realize what she just said.

"Um...what did you say about a helicopter?" Dascha laughs and responds, "Transporting you in a helicopter is the fastest and safest way in your condition. It's across the state, so it's only about an hour flight. You'll be okay, and your parents should be there to meet you," she finishes reassuringly. My home state of Vermont isn't huge, but an hour in a helicopter?

Terrifying. Then, as I did with the hoist, I remember that things can't get too much worse than they are and that moving to the rehab center is going to be good for me.

"Great." I nod and smile back at Dascha and wait for the nurse to come empty my bag. That takes a couple minutes, and then they get me into the hoist and to the roof of the hospital. Are you serious? This is like James Bond or some shit. Instead of a chair, this time I'm on a stretcher of sorts, but with my back slightly propped up. My feet are in little holders and my ankles are strapped down, in addition to my thighs, stomach, arms, and shoulders. It doesn't hurt. As far as I know, I'm perfectly comfortable. My neck, on the other hand, is not. I'm wearing a more stiff brace to reduce any more movement, and there are pillows on either side and under my head so that doesn't move either. They wheel me on to the helicopter and then lock the wheels into their own holders.

Once I'm in place, it occurs to me that this might be the last time I see Joanne. I call her name, and she comes to the side of the stretcher.

"Thank you so much, Joanne. For everything." I want to hug her so badly. "I wish I could give you a hug, but..." I trail off. Joanne doesn't say anything, but leans down and hugs me. "I'll visit you, okay?" She says. I nod and she waves to me, leaving the helicopter.

I hear the propellers start moving and I feel myself lifting off the ground. With little to do than look at the ceiling, I soon find myself drifting off to sleep.
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The end of the first section is SO BAD I'm so sorry

Also- the plot line with Ashley will pick up a while later. Thanks for reading friends