The Amendment (The Contract 2)

I beamed at him. “Call your wife and tell her you’ll be home soon.”

He returned my smile with one of his own, his eyes glassy with emotion. “She’ll be doubly happy.”

He turned and walked away, his phone pressed to his ear.

I sat down and offered up a prayer of thanks, asking for the strength I would need for the next step in Richard’s recovery.RICHARDIt was too much. It was all too fucking much. I was confused, in pain, and I didn’t know what the hell I was doing in a hospital surrounded by machines, with needles in my arm, and some annoying plastic tubes shoved up my nose. I watched Katy leave, my anxiety mounting as the door shut behind her, leaving me with these strangers.

With an angry jerk, I yanked at the tubes pumping oxygen into my body. I was shocked at how ineffectual my action seemed. Add to the fact that the simple motion caused a spasm of pain to rip through my torso which took my breath away and enhanced my tension.

“Now, now, Mr. VanRyan. Relax. Everything is okay,” a nurse soothed, bringing my arm down to my side. “I’m Carol, the nurse to my left is Hillary, and as he said, this is Dr. Fletcher. We’re here to help.”

“Katy,” I managed to get out between struggling breaths.

“She’ll be right back,” Dr. Fletcher assured me. “I need to do a few tests, then she’ll be right back. All right?”

It appeared I had no choice in the matter. The nurses clucked and fussed as the doctor checked my chart. They patted my arms, straightened my pillows, promising water and the return of my wife as soon as possible. I managed to calm down, bringing my breathing under control. Still, I glared at him.

He ignored me, instead asking me some questions, not reacting to any of my responses. I was able to tell him my name and the year without hesitation. My wife’s name, and those of our children. I struggled a little with birthdates and what the actual date was today, but I gave it my best shot.

“July, maybe? The fifteenth?”

He didn’t agree or disagree.

He gave me five things to remember, then asked some more questions. I found it difficult to focus on his words, asking him to repeat his questions at times, and finding myself floundering to get the words out. They were there, in my head, yet somehow speaking them was problematic. It was upsetting since words were my lifeline.

I tapped my head. “What is going on? Why…why am I here?”

He didn’t respond to my queries. “What is the last thing you remember?”

I tried desperately to recall.

I remembered Gracie laughing, Heather eating, and Katy smiling. Something about a park? Fractured images swam through my aching head.

“No, a zoo,” I said out loud.

“Pardon?”

“I was having…breakfast with…my family. I said I would take them…to the zoo…on the weekend.”

I paused, shocked at how long it took me to get those simple words out. My voice sounded raspy and my words halted. Panic began to bleed into my chest.

The doctor nodded, not seeming to notice my hesitant speech.

“Good. Anything else?”

I shut my eyes, trying to clear my foggy mind. “Nothing clear. My head hurt? Did I have a stroke?”

He drew in a long breath. “No. You were in a car accident, Richard. A serious one. You suffered a traumatic blow to your head. You’ve been unconscious for several days. The fact that you can recall some details is a good sign.”

I had no memory of what he was saying. A car accident? Did I hurt someone?

“Why am I talking…so slow? Why is my head fuzzy?”

“You’re still healing.”

“It will get better?” I asked, trying to fight down the returning panic.

“We’ll have to see how you progress.” He stepped forward. “I need to check your vitals and do a few other things, then we’ll get Katy back in.”

He proceeded with his tests, asking me to list the five things he asked me to remember.

I couldn’t recall even one.

“What is your pain level at?” he inquired as he shone his light in my eyes, making the pain throb more.

“In my head…a nine, my chest and arms…an eight. The rest of me is… good. No pain…” My voice trailed off. There was no pain in my lower extremities. My lower back ached, and then there was nothing but the oddest sensation. As if my legs were detached from the rest of me. I rubbed my thigh, feeling a small awareness, but that was it. I tried to move my legs, yet nothing happened. In my panic, I pushed at the nurse beside me, slapping at my leg.

I could feel something, yet I couldn’t move.

My breathing picked up, becoming fast and hard. The pain inside my head turned into sharp claws tearing at my mind.

“Why-why can’t I move my legs?”