"And this is Mrs. Broadfield, your private nurse. She will be with you from now until the day you are healthy and well enough to be on your own again."
"Hello, Annie," she said, and blinked a smile that flashed as quickly as a camera light. She had hair as black as Aunt Fanny's, but cut very short, and she was round-faced and chunky, with broad shoulders like a man's. She wore no makeup and her lips were a pale burgundy.
"Where's Drake?" I asked, and then vaguely recalled his telling me he had to return to Boston.
"Drake?" Dr. Malisoff said. "There are two people waiting in the lobby to see you. One is your aunt Fanny and the other, I think, is her son?" He looked to Mrs. Broadfield, who nodded quickly. "I'll have them come in in a moment. First, let me tell you what we're planning to do with you, Annie.
"Apparently, when your father's car turned over, you hit something rather hard, and the blow to your spine just at the back of your head created what we call a trauma which is interfering with your motor control and causing paralysis of your lower body. We don't know exactly where the damage is or how much yet, because this hospital doesn't have what we need to make a precise diagnosis, so we are preparing to fly you to Boston, where you will be examined by a neurologist who is an associate of mine. There they have sophisticated instruments such as a CAT scan to pinpoint your problems and help us arrive at a proper diagnosis, therapy, and prognosis."
"I don't feel any pain in my legs right now," I said. He smiled at that.
"No, you wouldn't if they were paralyzed. If you do feel pain, that will be the sign that your nerves and muscles are returning to functioning order. I know it sounds funny to hope for pain, but in a real way, that's what we've got to do. My guess is that once we treat the trauma, you will regain the use of your legs. However, it may take some time, and during that time, you'll need more than just tender loving care. You'll need professional therapy."
I was impressed and encouraged by his confident tone, but I wanted Daddy to be beside me holding my hand; I needed Mommy to tell me I would be all right again, and not just doctors and nurses. I'd never felt so alone, so deserted and bereft in the strange, cold world.
"So," the doctor continued, releasing my hand and standing straight again, "just relax until all the preparations are completed. You'll go by ambulance to the airport and be flown by air ambulance to Boston." He smiled again and patted my hand. "In the meantime, Mrs. Broadfield will give you something liquid to eat, okay?"
"I'm not hungry." Who could think of food at a time like this? I didn't care if I ever ate again.
"I know, but I'd like you to have something liquid, some nourishment besides what you're getting through the I.V. All right?" He paused and gave me another smile meant to reassure me, where never again could anything do that. "I'll have your family come in to see you now."
He turned, and he and the younger doctor left. Mrs. Broadfield prepared a small carton of cranberry juice for me by opening it and inserting a straw.
"Just suck gently," she advised, adjusting my bed so I was in a sitting position. Her short, stubby fingers and large palms reeked of rubbing alcohol. This close to me, I could see the tiny black hairs peeking out the bottom of her round chin. I wanted my mother, my beautiful, loving, sweet-smelling mother to be the one taking care of me, not this ugly stranger.
She placed the juice in my free hand and rolled the table over the bed. The change in my posture made me dizzy again and I had to close my eyes.
"I'm getting nauseous," I cried.
"Just try a little," she insisted. I took in some juice quickly and swallowed. My throat ached and I moaned.
"Please, roll me down again," I pleaded.
"You're going to have to try, Annie, just a little every day. Doctors can't do it all," she said, a note of disapproval, even impatience, in her voice.
"I'm not ready," I insisted. She shook her head and pulled the table away. I took one more suck on the straw and then handed her the juice. She pressed her lips together, her rubbery face filled with annoyance. When I looked more closely at her, I saw how pocked her skin was and wondered why a nurse would have such a poor complexion.
Just as she lowered me into a fully reclining position again, Aunt Fanny burst into the room with Luke right behind her. I was never so glad to see them. Aunt Fanny wrung her hands before me.
"Oh Gawd . Oh Gawd!" she screamed. Mrs. Broadfield nearly dropped her tray.
"Oh, Annie, darlin', poor chile. My poor niece." Tears were streaming down her face and she was dabbing her cheeks with her silk handkerchief. "Oh Gawd, Gawd . look at her in that bed. Sweet child," she wailed, and leaned against Luke. Her shoulders shook. Then she took a deep breath and came to my side and kissed me on the forehead. I welcomed the scent of roses, her personal perfume she had sent in from New York once a month.
She held me and sobbed, her body shaking mine. I looked to Luke, who seemed embarrassed by his mother's outward display of sorrow. I reached forward to indicate he should come closer. Aunt Fanny was holding me as if for dear life. Her sobbing got louder.
"Ma," Luke said. "You're making things worse. Please."
Aunt Fanny snapped back.
"What?" She dabbed her eyes again. "Oh . . . Oh Gawd, Gawd."
"Ma, please. Think of what Annie's been through," Luke pleaded, lowering his voice for emphasis. Mother used to say that when it came right down to it, no one could handle Fanny as well as Luke could.
"Oh dear, dear Annie," she said and kissed me on the cheek, her tears dripping onto my face. She wiped them away and stood up.
"Poor Luke and me been sittin' out there fer hours waitin' for the doctors and the nurses ta let us in," she added, flashing a chastising look at Mrs. Broadfield. Suddenly her great sorrow turned into great anger.
"Try not to excite her," Mrs. Broadfield commanded, and left the room.