Dr Feelgood Page 5

  “Nothing,” I tell her. “I was driving and then …”

  I manage to look in Dee’s direction, but she’s staring at Liz with an uncertain look on her face. I’ve known these girls long enough to know they’re trying to decide who should tell me what is going on. I slowly turn my head to Liz, knowing she’ll be the one to finally explain. After all, Liz is always the one we go to when something needs to be said and the rest of us don’t want to say it.

  “You were on your way to meet us,” Liz begins, speaking slowly. She never talks to me like this. It’s like I’m a child who won’t understand if she goes too fast. It must be bad if she’s resorting to her teacher voice. “You were stopped at a stop sign. Do you remember that part?”

  I nod. There’s a vague memory of putting on lipstick at the stop sign, but nothing more. What does that matter? Liz looks relieved.

  “Good, that’s good.” Liz squeezes my hand. “When you were stopped there…”

  Her voice chokes up all of a sudden, like she’s holding back tears. But I stare, my eyes insistent. She’s upset, but I need to know what’s happening and this mystery is taking way too long. Maybe Dee should’ve been the one to explain. She’s more of a rip-it-off-like-a-Band-Aid kind of girl.

  “A Mack truck hit your car,” Liz finally says, the words tumbling from her lips.

  That explains why I feel like I’ve been slammed by a truck. Because I literally was hit by a truck. I laugh at my own joke, but it hurts, and it sounds more like a dying animal than an expression of mirth.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah,” I whisper.

  Liz nods.

  “The truck came out of nowhere. We don’t know how it happened, but it hit you on the driver’s side. Your car flipped…”

  I’m in a hospital. The thought hits me harder than the truck did. That explains the beeping to my right, the pin prick in my arm, not to mention the full body pain. I’m lying in a hospital bed because my car was slammed and probably totaled. And yet I survived.

  Tears stream from my eyes. “A truck?”

  Liz nods while Dee places her hand on my shoulder, trying to calm me down. It’s not working, but I appreciate the gesture. Next to me, the beeping gets faster again because my heart rate is picking up.

  I take a deep breath to slow the panic. “The driver?” I ask. I’m afraid to know the answer. If this is what happened to me, he could be in even worse shape.

  “He’s fine,” Liz says quickly. “In fact, he walked away without a scratch.”

  Relief courses through me.

  “He feels terrible for what happened,” she continues. “He tried to help you as soon as he got out of the truck. He came to the hospital, too.”

  Out of the corner of my eye I spot a bouquet of flowers. Liz notices my gaze. “Those are from your parents. We called them, but they can’t fly out. I’m so sorry, Summer.”

  I’m not surprised. I’m sure as soon as they realized I was going to survive, Berta and Bill resumed their normal lives. They didn’t come for any of the good things in my life, so I don’t expect them to show up when it’s bad. It’s just the way things are.

  “Jonah?” I ask.

  “We called him, but he said he was busy,” hedges Dee. “I’m sorry, Summer.”

  Again, just knowing Jonah, I’m not surprised. I get that we were fighting, but it does sting that my so-called boyfriend of six months couldn’t be bothered to visit me at the hospital.

  I shake away the thought. I can’t fixate on Jonah right now. I’m in a hospital bed after a car accident. I should not be worrying about him when there could be worse things lying around the corner. Instead, I meet Liz’s eyes.

  “More?”

  Her brows furrow. “More what? Do you need more pain meds?”

  “No,” I croak. “Tell me more.”

  She and Dee share another look. I’m getting sick of these mysterious glances. It’s like I’m a toddler, not a grown woman.

  “Just tell me,” I whisper slowly. Every word is like a flame in my throat.

  “I’m not sure…”

  I slam my hand against the bed. It’s an aggressive move, especially considering I’m attached to a bunch of machines and so sore that every movement takes all my energy. I just want them to know I mean business.

  “Okay, okay,” Liz surrenders. “Your car is totaled.”

  I figured that much. A compact car doesn’t get hit by a truck and survive the impact. I’m lucky I survived. I definitely didn’t expect I’d be able to drive my baby again.

  “It’s more than totaled,” Dee butts in. Liz gives her a look like ease up but Dee ignores her and I’m glad for it. “Your car flipped a couple times after the truck hit. It landed on its wheels, but the roof and doors were damaged. The firefighters had to use the jaws of life to get you out.”

  I gasp, which sends me into a painful coughing fit. I’ve seen the jaws of life demonstrated at our town’s big Fourth of July celebration every year, and I never in a million years thought they would have to use them on me.

  “It was bad, Summer,” Liz says softly. “We saw pictures from the scene…”

  A tear rolls down her cheek. My poor friends. I hate that I put them through this agony, but appreciate the emotion. I grip Liz’s hand tighter and reach out for Dee’s so that we’re connected like a daisy chain.

  “You were ten minutes late to girls’ night, and since you’re usually at least ten minutes early, we knew something was wrong immediately.” Liz takes a deep breath, trying to lose the shakiness in her voice. “We all tried to call you like a hundred times. We were just about to come to your house to check on you when a paramedic finally picked up Dee’s call.”

  Dee is listed as my emergency contact in my phone, so it makes sense that they would talk to her. She and the other girls are listed as family on all my medical charts, too, just like I am on theirs. We all have our issues with our biological families, so we formed our own sisterhood, if you will.

  “He asked me if I knew you, and I started yelling at him,” Dee laughs hoarsely. “It took him a good five minutes to get me to stop screaming, and then he said there had been a serious accident and that you were gravely injured. He asked if I knew what hospital you should be taken to. I had no clue, so I said the closest one, and then the girls and I left the bar. We didn’t even pay our tab, but I went back this morning and explained and they weren’t mad.”

  My heart is so full of love for these ladies. Not everyone has three people who will literally drop everything if tragedy strikes.

  I’m about to ask for more information when a nurse walks in. She smiles when she sees my eyes open.

  “Welcome back, Summer. You gave us all quite a scare last time you woke up.”

  What? I meet Liz’s eyes in question and she explains.

  “You woke up a couple hours ago, but you were really out of it. The doctors had to sedate you.”

  Oh wow. I don’t remember that at all. I’m glad to be more coherent this time around.

  “I’m just here to check your vitals,” the nurse says kindly. “Don’t let me ruin your reunion.”

  The woman watches my heartrate monitor and marks something down on a chart. She checks a few other things, and it all seems up to par, because she nods and smiles at me. “Since you’re awake, I’ll send the doctor in to talk to you. Does that sound okay?”

  I nod. I love talking to my friends, but I need to know how much longer I’ll be stuck here. When can I go back to work? I’m sure my boss at Lalique will understand, but I’m the best salesperson they have. I don’t want to leave them hanging for too long.

  The nurse disappears into the hallway and I’m left to wait for the doctor to tell me what exactly is wrong with me, and how long it’ll be before I’m fully healed. Because what are the girls hiding from me? What’s so awful that no one wants to say it aloud? I can only pray and wait.

  7

  Summer

  Dee and Liz are silent while we wait
for the doctor to arrive. The strange looks between them get more frequent but before I can ask what the hell is going on, a tall man in a sleek white coat enters my room.

  “Good afternoon, Stephanie,” he says with a wide smile. I recognize that look. It’s the same as my customer service face. Not necessarily fake, but not quite authentic, either. “How are you feeling?”

  “Summer,” I correct, my voice barely above a whisper.

  The doctor nods. “Apologies, Summer. Your friends did tell me that’s the name you prefer. I’m Dr. Thomas. How are you feeling?”

  I try to answer, but my voice is completely gone now. Just in time, my friend Annabel scurries into the room with a pitcher of water.

  “I am so sorry I was gone so long,” she says, pouring me a glass. “The nurses did not want to give me water for you and I practically had to browbeat someone before they gave me this pitcher.”

  Annabel spots the doctor and flushes. Dr. Thomas laughs.

  “It’s fine, she’s allowed to have water. She won’t be having any surgeries or procedures today, and I’ll talk to the nursing staff about being a little more friendly.”

  I sigh, relieved. If I don’t need surgery, I’ll probably get to go home in a few days.

  I chug the liquid and ask Annabel to pour me another glass. With each sip, I feel the life coming back to me. The doctor waits patiently as I quench my thirst. I’m glad he’s giving me a chance to lubricate my throat so I can have an actual conversation with him.

  “Okay,” I say, my voice revived once more. “Tell me the damage, Doc.”

  The joke is met with blank stares. I don’t know why this crowd is so tough because it’s not like there’s anything seriously wrong with me. I don’t need surgery. I felt like I hadn’t had water in a week, but now that I’ve quenched my thirst, I’m good to go.

  Wait a second. I scan the room for a clock. It’s a little after two in the afternoon, but what day is it?

  The heartrate monitor goes insane. I can’t catch my breath no matter how hard I try and tears well in my eyes.

  “How long have I been here?” I beg, reaching for the closest of my friends. “Was I unconscious?” I try to sit up, but a hand pushes me back against the bed.

  “Easy, Summer,” the doctor says, his voice gentle. “I need you to calm down, can you do that for me?”

  I nod, but the beeping stays strong. Darkness sneaks into my eyesight and my head feels light. If I wasn’t already laying down, I probably would have fallen over. “How long was I asleep?”

  “Just a day,” Annabel says quickly.

  “Annabel!” Liz whisper-yells.

  Annabel shrugs. “Look, she’s calming down already.”

  My friend is right. Knowing it’s been a day, and not a week or a month, slows my heart. Oxygen come naturally again. The doctor steps back, relief on his face and seems to exhale.

  “Excellent, Summer. Just keep breathing.”

  I do as he commands. We’re silent for a good five minutes as I calm myself down. I’m embarrassed that this stranger had to witness a panic attack, but then again, he’s a doctor. He’s probably used to it. Plus, they should have told me sooner that it had been less than twenty-four hours since the accident. It would have prevented this entire episode.

  I drink another glass of water. “Okay. I’m good. So how long until I can go home?”

  The doctor catches another look from Dee, Liz and Annabel.

  “Okay, I’m getting really sick of these secret stares. Can someone just tell me what’s going on so I can be discharged?”

  Dee steps closer to me. “You have to stay in the hospital a little while,” she says, her gentle voice startling me. Dee is not a gentle person usually. She’s the one you count on to tell you what you don’t want to hear.

  “Why? The doctor said I don’t need surgery.”

  “You don’t,” she says quickly. “She doesn’t, right?”

  Dr. Thomas shakes his head. “No surgery.”

  “Then I don’t see the problem. Is it the concussion? Because I’m sure I can get Jonah to stay with me to keep an eye on me or whatever. Or maybe one of you can stay?”

  “It’s not the concussion, Summer,” Liz butts in. “But you know we would stay with you in a heartbeat.”

  Of course I know that. They’re at my door when I’m sick, just like I’m at theirs. I mean, they’re the ones who spent the night in a hospital room. The evidence is strewn across the other side of my private room. There are three chairs lined up, piled with pillows and blankets. Their necks probably hurt as much as mine does.

  A happy tear slides down my cheek. “I love you so much.”

  The three girls give me a hug without squishing any of my injured limbs. “We love you, too.”

  But with the love fest out of the way, I get frustrated again. Someone needs to tell me why I can’t go home, and they need to tell me now.

  The doctor glances at my heart monitor, and then at me.

  “Okay, I need you to stay calm, Summer. If you get too panicked, I’ll have to sedate you again and I don’t want to do that.”

  I nod. I force some deep breaths and ease back onto the bed, tension releasing from my muscles. If I have to be calm for the doctor to talk to me, I’ll be calm. I mean, my name is Summer. I’m calm, I’m sunshine. Panic is rarely a part of my life. I can keep my breathing level and my heartrate normal.

  I keep repeating this to myself until I believe it.

  “Please just tell me what’s going on.”

  The doctor hands Dee something. A mirror. She holds it up so I can see and I immediately wish she would put it back down because dark blue bruises cover my swollen face. My nose is puffy and crooked.

  “You hit the airbag on impact,” Liz explains. “That’s probably what caused the concussion and the broken nose.”

  Everything hurts right now, so I didn’t even notice the sharp pain when I breathe through my nostrils. I slowly lift my hand to touch it, wincing at the soreness.

  “My poor face,” I say, almost laughing. I spend nearly every day in front of mirrors, standing next to women and telling them what works on their body. Just yesterday I was doing my makeup and curling my hair in front of my large vanity. I’ve never cringed away from my reflection before, and I’m certainly not going to start now.

  After all, they’re just bruises. My face will heal. My nose may be crooked forever, but it was already a little crooked anyways. I broke it once in high school during volleyball in gym and it was pretty clear I was never going to be a professional athlete. If I could laugh it off back then, while everyone pointed fingers at my clutziness, I can handle it now.

  “Okay, this isn’t that bad,” I finally say. “It’ll get better. I didn’t have to stay in the hospital overnight when I broke my nose before, so I need to know what else there is. Come on, fess up.”

  “Well, you broke your wrist,” adds the doctor. This I already knew because there’s a cast on my wrist. “But fortunately, it was a clean break.”

  “It’ll make my job more difficult,” I say. “But I can manage with one arm for a while. How long does a broken wrist take to heal completely?”

  The doctor eyes my wrist reflexively.

  “Probably a few weeks for you, since it wasn’t a bad break. The cast will come off in six weeks.”

  I shrug. “Alright. What’s next? My head?”

  Another look of worry passes between my entourage. I roll my eyes, which hurts a lot more than it should. “Come on, guys. I can handle it. I’m over the initial shock. I look terrible, but I’m alive. That’s what matters.”

  Dr. Thomas gives Dee a small nod.

  “Summer,” she begins gently. “Can you feel your legs?”

  “Yeah, of course,” I say instantly. But then I pause. She wouldn’t have asked the question if it wasn’t important.

  Then I look down and stare at the two long shapes beneath my hospital blanket. I try to lift my left leg but nothing happens. Then my right,
but still, no movement.

  The doctor watches me, and the heart monitor. I keep my breathing even and try again. And again.

  Holy crap. My legs aren’t moving.

  By now, the end of my sheet has fallen off my foot, leaving my toes exposed. My feet tend to always be cold, but right now, I don’t feel anything.

  Move, I will my big toe. It doesn’t listen.

  “Move!” I yell aloud, staring fiercely at my foot, but it remains completely still.

  “I can’t feel my legs.” The words are barely above a whisper, but not because my throat hurts. Nothing hurts anymore. Instead, a complete numbness has taken over my full body.

  There’s a word to describe my physical state. I’ve heard it before. It’s like the actor who played Superman, but not quite. I try to pull the word from my throbbing brain. Something -legic. Carlegic? No that’s not it. That’s not even a word. Sadlegic? That’s not it either. Paralegal? Obviously not.

  I would slap my forehead, but it would hurt to much. I squeeze my hands into fists instead. It’s on the tip of my tongue, this word that now describes me. That last one was close. What the hell is it?

  “Paraplegic,” I say aloud, finally remembering. “That’s what I am now.”

  Liz cries softly beside me and Annabel is hiding her face, but I’m sure she’s crying too. Dee remains a rock, her face scrunched up, forcing her tears back down her throat. I appreciate the effort.

  “We have a physical therapist at the hospital who is going to work with you,” says Dr. Thomas in a soothing voice.

  “Why?” I say in a tight voice. “I can’t move anything. What good is that going to do?”

  The doctor remains calm.

  “To retain muscle definition in all of your limbs, including your legs.”

  I nod, barely hearing him. It won’t matter. Without feeling, why would it matter how the muscles in my legs look? It’s pointless.

  “I’ll let the three of you talk.” Dr. Thomas checks my chart and marks down some information from the monitors. “I’ll come back in a little bit so we can discuss the next steps. For now though, I think you need your friends.”