"So it will: it can. Let me take a wild stab," she said leaning back and pretending to think hard. "you've been lying here wondering why me? What did I do?"
"Not exactly," I replied.
"Oh? That's a switch. Finally, someone who thinks she deserves it?"
"I didn't say that. I'm just not all that surprised,' I added.
She had a wonderful intense look. Her eyes just filled with interest, but not the way Doctor Casey's did. Hers were warm, excited in a way that made me feel like I was someone important, a discovery. "Care to tell me why?" she asked.
"I don't k
now if I have the time," I said. "I'll check my appointment book."
She laughed.
"What happened to you?" I asked her. "And don't tell me you fell off a horse."
"No. I've never really ridden a horse. I've gotten on ponies at fairs is all. I'm a city girl. I was in a bad car accident. A tractor- trailer ran over my car nearly four years ago. They had to cut me out of it. Remember what I said about the big If."
"Are you sure you're better off than you could have been?" I asked dryly.
"I'm still happily married. I have two teenage daughters who keep me from feeling sorry for myself. and I have a successful career. Also. I love pizza, and from what I've been told by psychics, there isn't any on the other side. You don't even want it!"
I stared at her a moment and then I laughed. The sound of it was so surprising, I just let it go on a little longer.
"So," she said settling in her wheelchair. "Tell me your story."
She was a good listener, never looking like her thoughts were wandering or like she was thinking why did I start with this girl in the first place? She asked many questions and made some notes in a small pad. Maybe I was starved for conversation. Maybe I had been shut up in my own mental dungeon too long. but I found what seemed like unlimited verbal energy. It felt good, too, good to get it all out. It was like puncturing a swollen spot on my body and watching all the pus leak out. I skipped around, of course, and tried to include only the events and people that had the most significance.
Finally I paused and looked at her. The smile was gone and in its place was the dark, serious expression of someone who had just heard she had lost her best friend.
"Sorry you asked?" I questioned.
"No. Actually, I'm grateful you're so
forthcoming. Most of my patients make me feel like a dentist. Pulling teeth," she added when I looked puzzled.
"Oh."
"You know, sometimes, often, it's much, much harder for someone who has a relatively easy life, to contend with such a difficult setback. You've been through so much. I feel confident you're going to do well."
"Sure." I said. "I'm just a chip off the old tragedy." She laughed.
"You're already ahead. You've got a sense of humor."
"It's not humor. It's disguised disgust," I said. Suddenly, I was feeling tired. I closed my eyes.
"I'll let you rest now. but I'll be back to see you tomorrow and we'll talk again. They're moving you to the physical therapy department, you know."
"Right. I'll be remade."
"The most difficult thing for us is the realization that our once whole and healthy bodies are no longer fully functional and we're now plagued with a miriad of secondary problems with which to contend."
"Don't just give me the good news," I said. She laughed.
"I won't. What you're doing now, your reaction to all this is your self-defense. Learning to accept this condition and coping is almost as devastating as the actual accident was. No one wants to be dependent on other people."
"Me especially," I muttered.