Second Chances Chapter Ten
Harold Wakes
Harold was reaching out, trying to use his hands to feel his way, to try and get up. Something warm and wet was running down his face, into his eyes, blinding him. He was also shouting for help. “Help me! I can’t see.”
A woman was laughing at him. Why was she laughing? “Grace? Grace?”
Another voice, not a woman’s, answered his cry for help, “I’m here Harold. I’m here.” Harold tried blinking the warmness from his eyes and turned his head towards the voice. Even through his blurred vision he could see the striking silhouette of a dark haired man with deep blue eyes standing next to him. Harold didn’t recognize the stranger yet somehow knew he should. “Who are you?” he feebly asked before the wetness blinded him again. Through the darkness enveloping him, Harold heard the man answer from far away. His response sounding scared and hurt, “I’m John.”
Harold woke up with a start. He was confused momentarily until he realized he was still in the hospital. Harold had regained consciousness sometime before surrounded by medical personnel except he didn’t know what had happened, where he was or even who he was. A nurse had to sedate him when he became upset.
A doctor had examined him and questioned him, all the while calling him Harold. The name seemed right, was familiar somehow, but he couldn’t remember.
“What happened to me? Why can’t I see? Why can’t I turn my head? Who am I?” Frightened and scared his voice rose with every question he asked.
Harold tried to listen to the doctor’s answers, but panic seized him. “You were in an accident. You had severe head trauma, and lacerations to your eye and face. I’m sorry we couldn’t save the left eye……
You had spinal fusion surgery at some time in the recent past. We don’t know when or what happened, why you needed the fusion……
Your name is Harold Bunting, that’s all we know. You need to calm down.”
Harold couldn’t calm down. He was frightened, very frightened, hurt, and confused. Crippled, half blind, hurting and with no memory of anything, the panic became a terror that so was overpowering, he started shaking violently, until, until, the sedatives pulled him into nothingness.
Now Harold was awake again. This was not the first time; he’d tried to open his eyes several times after the doctor had attempted to explain what happened. He’d look around half-blinded, before being stricken with fear once more, freaking out to only be sedated again. Only now the panic didn’t return, although he was still very confused. He had been dreaming of the dark haired man again. John, was that really his name, was he real or a just a drug induced hallucination? Had the man really been there in his room or was it only an illusion?
A nurse came into his room, moments after Harold woke up. They were obviously monitoring him from somewhere outside. He could read that her name was Heather from the ID badge she wore after she walked closer to the bed, “How are you feeling today, Mr. Bunting?” Heather was watching him closely to see if he was calm now.
Harold watched at her through his one good eye. It was strange, the way he saw things looked so different now, but he could see.
Harold didn’t know how to answer her question, fine he was far from, better than when, he couldn’t remember, better than, ‘Was it yesterday?’ maybe, he had no answer so he kept silent.
Heather checked his vitals, removed a drip line from the IV in his right arm, entered something in a laptop on a stand near the head of his bed, told Harold she would call his attending physician and let the doctor know that he was awake.
Harold was left alone then. He looked around the room and then out the open blinds on a window to his right. It was strange to have to turn his head as best he could to the left to view things on his left, but the right was easier. Things were blurry farther away, but he could observe things to his right without moving his head as much.
Around twenty minutes later a man came into Harold’s room. He was dark haired with brown eyes. Not deep blue. Harold didn’t understand the stab of disappointment he felt.
“Hello Harold. I’m Dr. Pradipta. I’m a surgeon and now I am your attending physician. I didn’t do the initial surgeries but am responsible for your post-surgical care. It is highly unusual I know; there are reasons I can assure you. I know you are very confused right now and that you have many questions, ones I can’t answer unfortunately. There is someone who can and soon. Just try to be patient and when we think you are ready, he will be allowed to see you.” The doctor informed Harold.
“Now, let me take a look at you.” Dr. Pradipta began to remove the bandages.
Harold tried his best to remain calm. What he was going through now was still was upsetting but Harold was now accepting that what had happened had happened, nothing would ever change that. He didn’t even remember his name, but he sensed somehow that he wasn’t a quitter; he had dealt with crippling injuries before bravely and he would do so again.
When the bandages were removed, Dr. Pradipta checked Harold’s left eye socket for signs of infection. The surgeon also examined the suture sites on Harold’s forehead, the ones above his left ear, and those on the right side of his face.
“Your eye is doing as well as can be expected, I see no infection. We can cover it with gauze and tape for now, if you want,” Dr. Pradipta told Harold, expecting his patient might want to keep his disfigurement hidden. “The sutures are ready to come out. The bruising is fading, the swelling is gone.”
“As for the amnesia, it could be temporary. It could be permanent,” Dr. Pradipta told Harold before he could even ask. “Your memories could all come flooding back in a matter of days or weeks; they could stay locked in your mind forever.”
“When do you think I will be ready? When can he come back again? I really need to find out…anything. Please?’ Harold had to ask. The not knowing was worse than the physical results of his injuries.
“I think you are ready. You asked when he can come back again. Why?” the doctor asked.
“I dreamt of someone named John, or so I thought. Was he here? Was it just a dream? I need to know.” Harold was almost pleading.
“Yes he was. His name is John Richards. He was injured in the same accident as you. He was released two days ago, but has been returned every day since hoping to see you again. Mr. Richards will tell you everything he knows about you. Only he can, I’m afraid. You rest tonight. I will allow him to see you tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry. I almost forgot. Mr. Richards brought you these.” Dr. Pradipta then reached into his pocket, and handed Harold a pair of glasses. “It’s okay for you to wear them for the time being. You’ll need new ones of course, but you should know I would recommend laser surgery to correct the vision in your right.”
Harold tried to rest during the night, but sleep evaded him to the point he asked for something to help him. The anxiousness of seeing John again was making him restless and the minutes seem to drag on.
It was only a few hours after Harold had finally fallen asleep before he was roused by the lab tech wanting to draw more blood while an aide waited for the tech to finish to take Harold to have the laser surgery he had opted for. Harold was back in his room by nine. Nurses came and went, helping Harold to the restroom. Then physical therapists would come just to get him up and walking around. It wasn't easy, his body was used to walking with its damaged hip but not with the lack of depth perception in his sight. A male therapist held on to him by a safety belt and kept Harold from falling after his numerous missteps. By the third time the PT had come in that morning Harold made it down the hospital hallway and back to his room without any assistance except the therapist's hand holding on to his elbow.
Even with everything going on, time still seemed to crawl along, and whenever the door opened Harold expected to John. By lunchtime he was exhausted and dozed off, his meal left untouched.
It was mid afternoon when Harold opened his eyes again. Someone was standing by his bedside, looking down at him. A man with dark hair and sparkling blue eyes; he is real.
“Hello Harold," he said. “I’m John.”
~*~
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen