LJ Idol - Reinventing the Wheel
They said it was a car accident, he was driving along when someone plowed into him. T-boned, I think they said. He lost a lot of blood, they told me. There were other things, but honestly I couldn’t tell you what was said after “he lost a lot of blood”. I couldn’t tell you a lot of what happened that day in general after that. People came by the waiting room I was in-- was I in a waiting room?-- and I think some of them might have sat with me to comfort me. I touched the ring on my finger, and hoped that he’d come out of it all just fine. I tried to sleep, for the first time, in that waiting room at some point, but it didn’t happen. Things felt rather bleak then. I held out.
It was a month after the accident, he’d been in a coma for the entire time. I watched as nurses came in while I desperately tried to make myself comfortable on the stiff chairs they provided in his single room-- I am so, so glad they gave him a single room. I’ve heard a lot of horror stories about double rooms that I don’t want to ever deal with.
About a month and two weeks into his stay-- just whenever I was starting to think that things were never going to get any better-- he opened his eyes. I ran to get a nurse, almost slipping on a wet patch of freshly-cleaned tile to get them. I realize I could have just pushed the call button on the bed, or something along those lines, but at that point I was almost screaming with excitement and amazement that I just needed to tell them myself. I babbled out something, and one of the nurses went with me (I was surprised, but it was a big deal.).
When I walked in, I expected to see him light up, and greet me like he always did. But instead he looked around, afraid. He looked lost, confused. The nurse picked up on this and took a step forward. She sat down in one of the chairs nearby and tried to talk to him.
“W-where... am I?” He struggled to form the words. I guess that makes sense, as he hadn’t spoken in almost two months. “Am... am I in a ... a hospital?”
The nurse nodded, “Yes. You’re in a hospital. You were in a very serious car accident.”
“How... long have I... in here?” He squinted when he talked, like he was trying to picture the words in his mind before he said them. His voice was dry leather in the summer as he spoke. I almost didn’t recognize it, but there were traits that I remembered all the same.
The nurse tried to fill him in on everything. He struggled to understand what happened, and seemed to need to have things repeated to him a lot. Maybe it was just that he couldn’t wrap his head around it all. I mean, I guess I can see why. But the part that got to me was whenever he looked at me, right in the eyes, and said “Who are you? Are you another nurse?”
I laughed softly, nervously, and told him that I was his girlfriend, that we’d been together for three years. I started to worry whenever he looked confused, his eyes wide with something that may have been fear. “Is this a joke?” he asked me.
“No. We met in college.”
“Three years?”
“I’m so sorry, I just don’t remember this. I don’t even remember college.”
The nurse said that there might be some minor memory loss, just from the extent of everything that’s happened to him, but I assumed “minor” didn’t mean “the past three years”. He didn’t remember anything. His personality was the same, so I’m glad that part of him was still there. But there was definitely something about him that was just so different, afraid, and confused. I wanted to be there for regardless. I told him as much.
I was going to help as much as I could rebuild his memory. We need to do more than just reinvent the wheel, we need to reinvent half the damn car. But we’re going to do it. And we’ll do it together.
It was a month after the accident, he’d been in a coma for the entire time. I watched as nurses came in while I desperately tried to make myself comfortable on the stiff chairs they provided in his single room-- I am so, so glad they gave him a single room. I’ve heard a lot of horror stories about double rooms that I don’t want to ever deal with.
About a month and two weeks into his stay-- just whenever I was starting to think that things were never going to get any better-- he opened his eyes. I ran to get a nurse, almost slipping on a wet patch of freshly-cleaned tile to get them. I realize I could have just pushed the call button on the bed, or something along those lines, but at that point I was almost screaming with excitement and amazement that I just needed to tell them myself. I babbled out something, and one of the nurses went with me (I was surprised, but it was a big deal.).
When I walked in, I expected to see him light up, and greet me like he always did. But instead he looked around, afraid. He looked lost, confused. The nurse picked up on this and took a step forward. She sat down in one of the chairs nearby and tried to talk to him.
“W-where... am I?” He struggled to form the words. I guess that makes sense, as he hadn’t spoken in almost two months. “Am... am I in a ... a hospital?”
The nurse nodded, “Yes. You’re in a hospital. You were in a very serious car accident.”
“How... long have I... in here?” He squinted when he talked, like he was trying to picture the words in his mind before he said them. His voice was dry leather in the summer as he spoke. I almost didn’t recognize it, but there were traits that I remembered all the same.
The nurse tried to fill him in on everything. He struggled to understand what happened, and seemed to need to have things repeated to him a lot. Maybe it was just that he couldn’t wrap his head around it all. I mean, I guess I can see why. But the part that got to me was whenever he looked at me, right in the eyes, and said “Who are you? Are you another nurse?”
I laughed softly, nervously, and told him that I was his girlfriend, that we’d been together for three years. I started to worry whenever he looked confused, his eyes wide with something that may have been fear. “Is this a joke?” he asked me.
“No. We met in college.”
“Three years?”
“I’m so sorry, I just don’t remember this. I don’t even remember college.”
The nurse said that there might be some minor memory loss, just from the extent of everything that’s happened to him, but I assumed “minor” didn’t mean “the past three years”. He didn’t remember anything. His personality was the same, so I’m glad that part of him was still there. But there was definitely something about him that was just so different, afraid, and confused. I wanted to be there for regardless. I told him as much.
I was going to help as much as I could rebuild his memory. We need to do more than just reinvent the wheel, we need to reinvent half the damn car. But we’re going to do it. And we’ll do it together.