Mind to Metal

Chapter 3

"So, how did you become paralyzed from the waist down?" Kendra asked on our lunch break.

It was a reasonable question. It made me curious about why she waited so long to ask. For the past two years, people would intrude on my personal space and background without any consideration.

It was nice to know someone considerate for a change. Smart too.

"Well, I used to live in a town with an AirForce base nearby. I lived with my single Momma in our single floored apartment. I remember school being a chore, but my friends made it bearable. I had little going for me except financial assistance and maybe track and field. However, I never went to practice enough to become the best I could since I had to work and do homework. Still, I did well enough. Taco Bell was my job at the time.

"One day, a star child, the military's up-and-coming best man, however still an unexperienced soldier was flying a plane and lost control of it. One thing led to another, and the plane ended up crashing right next to our school. The impact caused the plane to splinter into millions of pieces, one of which lodged itself into my skull. X-rays confirmed what I already knew when I woke up the next day. Along with my other injuries, a metal piece damaged a part of my brain that shut down my legs for good. From then on, I've been in debt to my wheelchair."

There was a solemn silence between us as she took the information in. It was a silence that begged me to continue. My mind was all too willing, but my lips remained sealed.

Then, and even now, we were more worried about what people couldn't see: the metal still in my head. It was reasonable to believe that a piece of metal in one's skull wasn't natural and needed to be removed. I would have agreed with the second idea too if I hadn't learned to change TV channels without the remote and to phone my nurse electronically without pressing a button upon regaining consciousness. Plus, they got that spot on my head to grow hair somehow. Any scarring or bump created was fairly well hidden underneath my short brown locks. I healed for the most part. I turned out fine. So having the metal might not be healthy, but it wasn't deadly.

For the next year, I spent my time healing, recovering emotionally, and then being ripped open, a seemingly never-ending cycle. Doctors from across the country came to visit me and experiment. Ideas were tossed around. Surgeries were conducted. More theories were created. Anything seemed possible within the U.S. Military's compensation awarded to me.

Relief had washed over me when my Momma finally said enough. By then, most of the doctors had given up. Any attempt to remove it would've made me brain dead. That wasn't a life I thought worth living.

Still stuck in my trance, her next comment only induced more dreadful memories.

"Dang. School must have been rough."

"You have no idea," I responded. But really, I didn't realize I said it.

I thought back to my idea of class before all the craziness happened. Piles upon piles of assignments each night. My backpack and its weight made my shoulders ache constantly. Even with the work I put in to study when I could, I never was an A student. But, being a good student was the least of my worries. In addition to my school life, I supported my Momma however I could as she recovered from a recent suicide attempt.

While I was in the hospital, it felt like my life was at a standstill. The only purpose of anything was to pass the time by. I wasn't able to go to school for senior year even if I wanted to. My routine consisted of sitting in my hospital bed watching the news, reruns of TV shows, and texting my friends. Looking back, the universe granted me my wish for time to relax and to take care of myself for a change.