Brain Damage, page 25
part #2 of Prescription: Murder Series
I bit my lip. “Can I ask you a question, Dr. Greenberg?”
“Of course.”
I asked the question that had been swirling around my head ever since I remembered what Clark did to me: “Is it possible that the reason I was having so much trouble seeing things on my left side was because I saw something so terrible on my left side that I needed to block it out?”
To his credit, Dr. Greenberg considered my question thoughtfully. “You’re talking about conversion disorder,” he said. “That’s a psychiatric condition where you have a neurologic response like numbness or paralysis in response to a stressful situation.”
“I know what conversion disorder is,” I said. “I am a doctor, after all.”
“Well, sorry, Dr. McKenna,” Dr. Greenberg said, grinning at me. “Anyway, it’s possible, I suppose. But in your case, I’d say it was unlikely. Your brain injury was on the right side, so the weakness and numbness and neglect of the left side is perfectly explained by your injury.”
“But how come it just got better all of a sudden?” I asked.
“Well, the prism lenses helped,” Dr. Greenberg said. “But that can happen with a brain injury. As the blood gets reabsorbed, there can be a sudden, marked recovery. I would guess that’s what happened to you.”
I guessed that made sense.
“Although the question remains,” Dr. Greenberg added with raised eyebrows, “what is it exactly that you think you saw on your left side that was so horrible?”
I’m not sure exactly how I stammered my way out of that one.
The one piece of bad news is that I still can’t go home from here, most likely. I can’t make it to the bathroom on my own, and that’s requisite before my mother can take me home. But I’ve been trying not to think about that.
So yeah. That’s that. On to more good news:
At long last, I am allowed to be alone in my room. That means no more meals in the hallway. I worried it would mean no more meals with Jamie, but instead, he’s taken to bringing his food tray into my room to eat with me. At least for dinner. Every night.
I know what you’re thinking. Jamie and I are supposed to be walking (wheeling?) off into the sunset by now. Once again, real life is a bitch.
I don’t know exactly what happened or what went wrong. Maybe Jamie has just been thinking differently about me since he’s recovered so much faster than I have, which would be completely understandable. After all, Clark thought I was unattractive at my very best, and I’m definitely not at my best now—miles from it. Or maybe he asked me too many times and he got sick of being rejected. Or maybe, despite his protests to the contrary, he and Karen are trying to make things work. In any case, it’s become clear that Jamie and I are just friends, and likely will stay that way.
Really, it’s a good thing. A relationship would be far too complicated now anyway.
No, that’s a lie. This completely sucks.
A couple of days after Clark’s arrest, I’m eating dinner in my room with Jamie next to me. We’re watching television like we usually do, an old episode of Friends. Joey is explaining about “the friend zone.” I think that may be what happened between Jamie and me. We’ve been friends too long, and now he can only think of me as a friend. He’s lost any sort of romantic interest in me.
“It’s true, I guess,” I say suddenly. “I mean, about the friend zone.”
Jamie turned away from the television to look at me. “You think so?”
I shrug, sorry I said anything. “I never had a relationship with a guy I’ve been friends with first,” I say thoughtfully. “So I’m not entirely sure.”
“Well, maybe that’s been your problem,” Jamie says.
I shrug again. “Maybe.”
Jamie is looking at me in a way that makes me feel really self-conscious. I wonder if he feels embarrassed about all the things he said to me before. I mean, I do know what I look like. Half my skull is missing, half my body doesn’t work right, and to make matters worse, now I’ve got the ugliest glasses in the world perched on my nose.
“Charly,” Jamie starts to say, but he gets interrupted by a knock at the partially open door.
The door swings open the rest of the way, and Dr. Greenberg enters the room. His tie has little brown teddy bears on it. When he sees me, his face crinkles up in a smile.
“Here’s our new superstar!” Dr. Greenberg says.
I feel my cheeks get hot, but actually, I’m really pleased about all the progress I’ve made lately.
“And I’ve got some more good news for you,” he says. “The neurosurgeon has scheduled your surgery for two weeks from now.”
I stare at him. “My surgery? Why do I have to have surgery?”
Dr. Greenberg laughs. “You want your skull back, don’t you?”
I reach out and touch my helmet. It’s been so long that I’d almost forgotten that getting my skull put back together was even a possibility. I was starting to think I’d be stuck with the helmet for the rest of my life. “But… how?”
“They made you a new skull,” he says. “It’s all ready for you.”
“That’s awesome,” Jamie exclaims, his brown eyes wide. “Charly, I’ll get to see what your hair looks like!”
I roll my eyes at him.
“I’m just going to take off your helmet for a moment,” Dr. Greenberg says. “I just want to take a quick look at your incision. So try not to fall, okay?”
I bite my lip. “Can’t we do it later?” I ask.
I don’t want to admit it, but I’m reluctant for Jamie to see me with my helmet off. Yes, he’s seen me with it off once before and didn’t seem particularly disturbed. But that was a long time ago, before he was recovered. I’m pretty sure if he sees me now with half my skull missing, he’ll react the way Clark did. Anyone would.
“It will just take a minute,” Dr. Greenberg promises.
Before I can protest again, I feel him loosening the straps under my chin. Jamie is watching us with fascination. I feel the weight of the helmet lifting off my head and the cool breeze against my sweaty scalp.
“Yes,” Dr. Greenberg says. “That looks very well healed. And the craniectomy site is quite sunken.”
“Wonderful,” I say as I reach for the helmet.
I can’t even manage to look at Jamie. If he had even the slightest bit of sexual desire for me, I’m sure it’s now completely evaporated.
“So like I said,” Dr. Greenberg continues, he helps me strap the helmet back in place. “Your surgery will be in two weeks, and you’ll leave straight from here to go to the hospital.”
“And will I come back here after the surgery?” I ask.
The smile fades slightly from Dr. Greenberg’s face. “No, we discussed it and we think the best thing is for you to go straight to a nursing facility after your surgery.”
“But Charly is doing so great now,” Jamie speaks up.
“We think it’s for the best,” Dr. Greenberg says. “But don’t worry. You’ll get home soon. I’m sure of it.”
I’m not so sure. I’m getting better faster now because I’m getting so much therapy. But I won’t get nearly as much in a nursing home. Maybe I will get home eventually, but I can imagine being stuck there for months, maybe even years.
“Okay,” I finally say.
It’s obvious that no matter what, I don’t have a choice in the matter. But it’s okay. I’ll make it home eventually. I’m determined.
Dr. Greenberg rests his hand briefly on my shoulder then bids me good night, leaving Jamie and me alone to finish our meals. I look over at Jamie, who is calmly eating his chicken a la king like nothing even happened. He isn’t screaming in terror or running to the bathroom to retch. In fact, he doesn’t seem at all rattled by having seen me without my helmet.
“Sorry you had to see that,” I tell him.
Jamie is chewing a bite of his sandwich. “See what?”
“Me without my helmet,” I say, feeling my cheeks grow hot again.
He shrugs. “I saw it before.”
“You remember that?”
“Of course.” He grins. “Remember I told you it looked like somebody took a bite out of it? And then you let me touch your brain.”
“I remember,” I say.
He shrugs again. “I don’t know. What’s the big deal? It’s no worse than the huge scar I’ve got on my head.”
It’s not anything like that. You can’t even see the scar on Jamie’s head anymore. It’s completely concealed by his hair. He looks entirely normal. He looks like a nice, normal, good-looking guy. I look anything but normal. And the truth is, no surgery is going to fix that.
Chapter 58
Six Months After
One thing that hasn’t improved magically since I got my glasses is my ability to make it to the bathroom on time. I’m better than I used to be, meaning I’ve got maybe a twenty-minute window rather than a five-minute window. But twenty minutes goes fast, especially since it takes me at least five minutes to get to the toilet once the nurse comes.
I’m sitting with Jamie in my room, watching television, when the urge comes. I hit my call button, but I see from the time that it’s the afternoon change of shift. That means the nurses are signing out to each other, and they won’t have time to run to my room unless I am actively dying. And the last thing I want is to pee in my pants in front of Jamie.
“What’s wrong?” Jamie asks me, noticing the look on my face. I swear, sometimes I think he can read my mind. Sometimes I even think he can read the part of my mind that’s damaged beyond repair.
“I need to use the bathroom,” I mumble, not really wanting to get into details.
Jamie raises his eyebrows. “Is it urgent?”
He gets it, of course. This is a guy who also needed to hit the call button to use the bathroom not that long ago. I wonder if he ever didn’t make it in time. Not that I’d ever ask.
“Kind of,” I admit.
He glances up at the clock on my wall. “Change of shift,” he notes. He really does get it. He looks at me thoughtfully. “I could help you to the bathroom.”
Oh God, no.
“That’s okay,” I say quickly.
“I can do it,” Jamie insists. His brown eyes are wide and earnest. “I’ve seen like a million transfers. Anyway, you can walk now mostly on your own, right?”
“Not entirely.”
“I’ll just help you stand up and then hang on to you while you walk,” he says. “It’ll be fine.”
On the outside, he appears to be mostly recovered from his head injury, but the fact that I recognize that this is a bad idea and he doesn’t makes me wonder.
“My balance is great,” he insists. “I took a balance test this morning and I got a perfect score. A perfect score, Charly.”
“What about when I’m on the toilet,” I say. I’m not really going to let him do this, but I play along for the moment.
Jamie thinks about it for a minute. “I won’t leave, of course. But I’ll look away. I won’t see anything, I swear.”
Jamie stands up and positions himself in front of me. I have to admit, he does seem like he might be able to do it. He’s sturdy and strong, and he has seen me walk with the therapists a million times, like he said.
Taking my silence as tacit approval, Jamie leans forward to help me stand up. I can’t help but notice that he smells nice. Clark always smelled like his cologne, but Jamie isn’t wearing any. Who would wear cologne on a rehab unit? Anyway, he just smells clean, like fresh soap and shampoo. The pleasant scent and the heat of his body makes it a little bit hard to concentrate on not peeing in my pants.
I grab onto Jamie’s neck and feel the muscles in his shoulders. I know this is a bad idea, but it’s really hard to focus on that right now. I’m just going to let this happen. Deal with the consequences later.
Of course, the consequences come sooner than I thought. The second my butt rises up off the chair, an alarm goes off. If either of us were thinking clearly, we would’ve realized that this was going to happen. But instead, we both freeze. Jamie clearly has no idea how to shut off the alarm.
Fortunately, the alarm does its job. Seconds later, Kim, my nurse for the day, is rushing into the room. Her eyes widen when she sees us. “Charly!” she exclaims. The bags under her eyes deepen as she glares at Jamie. “Jamie Knox, what do you think you’re doing?”
“Charly needed the bathroom,” he says sheepishly. He adds, “It was urgent.”
“And you were going to help her to the bathroom?” Kim asks, shaking her head in disbelief.
“I was going to cover my eyes,” he says, his ears turning bright red.
Kim shakes her head again, but it’s hard to tell if she’s angry or amused. Maybe both. “Jamie, go back to your room. I’ll help Charly.”
Kim helps me to the bathroom, and thank God, I make it on time. It’s been at least fifteen minutes. When she gets me back in my wheelchair, she turns the alarm back on.
“I had been thinking you might not need the alarms for much longer,” she says, clucking her tongue. “But I guess you do.”
No, no, no. I don’t want to be making backwards progress at this point. Anyway, this isn’t my fault. “It was all Jamie’s idea. He really wanted to help me. I told him not to.”
Kim laughs. “I believe it. Your boyfriend is certainly very dedicated to you.”
My face feels suddenly hot, and it’s not entirely due to my giant helmet. Although it’s partially due to my giant helmet. “He’s not my boyfriend. He just wants to be friends.”
Kim raises an eyebrow at me. “Oh really? Is that what he said to you? Because I’m fairly sure that’s not the case.”
Maybe it used to be the case. Before Jamie’s brain was entirely healed. But right now, it’s very clear he’s not interested in me. “You’re mistaken.”
Kim gives me a knowing look. I remember that look, from back when I was an intern. It’s the look of a nurse who knows much better than I do.
“Let me tell you something, Charly,” she says. “Every time that boy isn’t here or in therapy, he is out at the nursing station talking about you. ‘Where is Charly? When is her therapy going to be over? Could I take her down to the cafeteria? Could I take her out on the porch?’ Or he’s telling some story about something you did or said that he thinks we ought to know.” She smiles. “Granted, some of it is probably his head injury. But I think the head injury is just messing with his self-restraint so that he can’t keep his mouth shut about how crazy he is about you.”
I shake my head. “It’s not what you think.”
“What’s wrong?” she asks in a teasing voice. “Don’t you think he’s cute? I think he is.”
She has no idea. I’m embarrassed to admit how much I think about Jamie.
“It’s not what you think,” I mumble again.
Kim shrugs her shoulders. “Believe what you’d like to, Charly. But I can bet you a million bucks that Jamie is out at the nursing station, just waiting for me to be done so he can come back in here.”
I still don’t believe what Kim is saying. I don’t believe that Jamie could possibly be so happy to see me when he walks back into the room a minute later. His face does light up, but that’s because I’m his friend. I mean, why would he be so excited just to hang out with me?
Chapter 59
Six Months After
The next evening, Jamie kisses Karen.
I see them while my chair is parked in the hallway, waiting for somebody to bring me into my room. I see Karen arrive alone, without Sam. Jamie meets her in the hallway and then he kisses her.
The best I can say is that it isn’t a passionate kiss. They’re not full on making out or anything like that. But that said, they’re in the hallway of the hospital. You can’t make out in the hallway of a hospital.
And then Jamie doesn’t come by my room for dinner. That part hurts most of all. I understand that he’d rather be with her than with me, especially if he’s trying to make it work. But he’ll only be here a little bit longer. I wish we could keep pretending.
It’s close to eight o’clock when I hear the knock at my door. I’m sitting in my wheelchair, watching television by myself. I figure it’s my nurse, bringing me medications. But it’s not. It’s Jamie.
I notice right away that he isn’t holding a cane. Apparently, his balance is good enough that he doesn’t need it anymore.
“Hey, Charly,” he says. “Can I talk to you?”
“Sure,” I say, nodding at the chair next to me.
I already know what he’s going to say: Charly, I’ve decided to get back with Karen. And you know what? I’m okay with it. I’m going to be completely supportive. I’m going to tell him he’s doing the right thing. I’m going to pretend to be really happy for him.
Except he doesn’t tell me he’s getting back together with Karen. What he ends up saying is much worse.
“I’m going home tomorrow,” he says.
I stare at him for a second then I burst into tears. It’s not my finest moment.
“Don’t cry,” he pleads with me, taking my hand in his. “Please don’t cry, Charly. I’m really sorry.”
I feel ridiculous for crying, in all honestly. It was obvious that he was going home soon. He’s practically all better. But I can’t seem to stop sobbing. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” I sniffle.
“I just found out today,” he says. “I wanted to tell you right after therapy ended, but then…”
But then Karen came by. And that took priority. I get it.
“Charly?” he says, giving my hand a squeeze.
I pull my hand away from his to grab the box of tissues on the table in front of me, and I start wiping at my eyes. I’m not hysterical anymore, but I don’t trust myself to say anything without sobbing like an idiot.
“Please say something,” he says. He looks so cute, with his eyebrows scrunched together in concern. I hate Karen. I want to be with Jamie. This is so unfair. I’m going to miss him so goddamn much. “Please?”
I just shake my head.
