Finding My Way Home Read online

  The nurse takes a minute to check me again. God, it feels like they do this non-stop all day. She writes something in a chart clipped to the bed and approaches me. My eyes are begging her for what, I don’t know.

  “I know you have questions, Diane. Tomorrow someone from occupational therapy will speak to your husband to discuss treatment options. Ethan is an excellent doctor. You are in the safest of hands. He will let no one hurt you.”

  “We know each other because we have been to many hospital parties and functions. You have a beautiful family, Diane. I know this is difficult for you. It would be difficult for anyone to sustain an injury and lose their memories. Ethan has been frantic these past two weeks. He has slept in this room many nights in that uncomfortable recliner.”

  “He has been proactive in your treatment. He is your advocate in obtaining the best care the hospital can provide. I know you’re frightened, but you can trust Ethan, even if you cannot remember him. I can say with certainty that he loves his family. You are the love of his life. He’s made no secret of telling everyone how much he loves you and the children. He is faithful, hard-working, and dedicated to his family and friends. You are in safe hands, Diane.”

  Her words give me comfort. I feel a sharp pain in my head and raise my hand to rub my temple.

  “Do you need something for the pain?”

  I nod my head yes. The beautiful nurse puts something in the tube on my arm, and the world goes dark again. Happy peace surrounds me. I drift off on a weightless cloud where nothing hurts me. Can I stay here forever? I am afraid to face the future.

  Chapter Eleven

  Ethan

  My day starts with a visit to the municipal courthouse. Michael Dougherty has a bail hearing scheduled for ten in the morning. My cousin Brian is waiting for me in the lobby of the building. He doesn’t look happy. “What’s wrong?” I ask him. I already have a fucking headache.

  “I want to prepare you in the event the judge grants bail. It is highly unusual for a judge to deny bail. I will recommend electronic monitoring. The fucker’s attorney cornered me a few minutes ago. Dougherty is sorry. He was getting off a night shift, had a few beers. He was tired and fell asleep at the wheel. The accident wasn’t malicious. You know the drill.”

  “I trust you, Brian. Do what you need to do. If I must testify for my wife, I will. I don’t want this fucker to get off easy. I want him to pay for what he did to my wife.”

  “The facts of the accident are on record. Let’s go. I need to be in the courtroom in ten minutes. Stay quiet, and only speak if the judge asks you a question. This is not a formal hearing. Do not look at the defendant. No outbursts, Ethan.”

  I nod in agreement. Brian knows my temper. I keep it under control, but when someone hurts my family, it’s hard to keep quiet. When we enter the courtroom, ‘the fucker,’ which is my new name for him, sits at the defendant’s table. If I didn’t know his age, I would swear he was seventeen years old. I take my seat next to Brian and watch the proceedings.

  Fifteen minutes later, the fucker leaves the courtroom. The judge set bail at twenty-five thousand dollars, remanded him to house arrest with an ankle monitor, and revoked his driver’s license. We are due back in court in one week for jury selection. I feel better once I step out into the fresh air. “Thanks, Brian. I owe you big time. Do I need to be present for the jury selection?”

  “Yes. It will be in Diane’s best interest if you are involved in the jury selection and questioning.”

  “Send me a text message with the date as soon as possible. I’ll block off the time.”

  “How is Diane?”

  “Not good. I have a meeting with a few therapists later this afternoon to discuss therapy options.”

  “Good luck. Keep me posted. Is it okay if I visit Diane?”

  “Not right now, Brian. She is confused and does not want visitors.”

  “Oh, wow, I am sorry to hear that. Let me know when Carol, and I can visit her.”

  “I will. Thanks.”

  *****

  Before I visit Diane, I have an appointment with her primary therapist. We have agreed to a full assessment of all cognitive responses. It is the only way to figure out the extent of my wife’s limitations. How do I explain this to her? I must believe that somewhere deep within her, she understands me. It is close to dinner when I finally go to see her. I don’t know what they put in front of her, but it is not food. I cringe in sympathy as I watch her stare at the tray. She looks up when she sees me standing in the doorway. She looks down again at her tray. Her mouth opens, her brow creases. She is trying so hard to speak, and then she starts to cry.

  I am by her side a few seconds later. Her tears shatter me. It doesn’t matter at this moment that she has no memory of our life together. Diane needs the comfort of a warm embrace. I wrap my arms around her trembling body, and she sinks into me. I don’t know how long I hold her in my arms, but the close contact soothes both of us. Eventually, she calms down and takes a few deep breaths. I run my thumbs along her flushed cheeks to wipe away the tears. Her eyes never leave mine. There is a connection. It may be broken, but it’s still there. We both feel it.

  “I bet you feel better after a good cry, don’t you?”

  Diane nods her head. She looks down at her food and pushes the tray away from her. I take a few seconds to look at her dinner. They pureed her food. It is disgusting, but she needs the nutrition.

  “I bet you are wondering what that mess is on your tray.”

  Diane nods her head.

  “Until we can be sure that you can swallow whole food, the therapist thought it would be advisable for you to have a blended diet. It’s not bad food; it’s just smoothed out so you can swallow. See, I’ll taste it for you.”

  The food that I put in my mouth is not edible. It’s more like baby food, and the taste is like chicken. My gag reflex kicks in, and I push back the urge to vomit. I need to speak to the nutritionist. There must be a better alternative to this crap. I hold up the spoon and wait for her to open her mouth. She refuses.

  “Oh, come on. If I can eat it, so can you. Diane honey, you need the nutrients from this food. Once you start to eat, we can remove one of the IV’s from your arm.”

  She looks down at her arm, and then up at the pole beside the bed. I see defiance in her eyes, and then she opens her mouth. Something shifts in me as I feed my wife. You always imagine something like this happening when you are old and gray. I never imagined something so awful would occur at this stage in our lives. I must remind myself that this is a temporary situation. Her injuries will heal with time. I blink a few times to clear my head. Diane is watching me with sad eyes. What does she see on my face? Can she see my fear? I don’t want her to see it, and I re-focus on her dinner.

  “A few more spoons and you’re all done. See, that wasn’t so difficult, was it? At least we know you can swallow without difficulty. When the shift changes, I will ask the nurse to remove the IV.” That made Diane smile. I sit for a few minutes while we watched the evening news. Several times she looks over at me and gives me a shy smile. Diane is starting to feel comfortable around me. It’s time to tell her about tomorrow’s evaluation.

  “I have some good news for you. I spoke with your primary therapist earlier today. Tomorrow morning we have three appointments with different therapists. What they want to do is check to see what you remember, like can you read? Can you write? Can you add and subtract? I know asking if you can read and write sounds silly, but because the brain is so complex, certain areas are affected by the concussion. Do you understand what I am trying to explain to you?”

  She shakes her head no.

  “Everything will be okay, Diane. I will be with you tomorrow and every other day until you come home. We leave this hospital together.”

  It’s time to call it a night. She is fading fast. I bend down to give her a kiss on the forehead, and I am surprised when she squeezes my hand. I raise her hand to my lips and kiss her. I sit on the edge of he
r bed and hold her hand until she falls asleep. For the first time in I don’t know how long, I drive home with a smile on my face and hope in my heart.

  Kellie and Joey are waiting for me. I am not happy to see them awake at ten thirty in the evening. My father shakes his head. “They refused to go to bed until you came home. We gave up an hour ago. Do you want something to eat?”

  “Just coffee, and a piece of cake, if we have any.”

  Once my father leaves the room, I sit with my children and tell them what happened today. Kellie is animated and very excited to know her mother ate dinner. Joey holds back his feelings.

  “Okay, Miss Kellie, time to hit the bed. You are up way past your bedtime.”

  “Oh, come on Daddy, you just got home. Ten more minutes, please?”

  “No, young lady. Tomorrow is a school day.”

  Kellie rather dramatically walks towards the steps. She turns to me and says, “You know, I’m not a baby,” then runs up the steps.

  All I can do is rub my face. Kellie is so much like her mother. Joey sags against the sofa clearly relieved she is out of the room. “Thank God Kellie is finally going to bed. I swear she was driving me crazy all night. She kept running to the window looking for your car. She must have asked Gramps twenty times when are you coming home.”

  I laugh. “You know how hyperactive Kellie can be. Go easy on your sister. We are all very anxious and worried about Mom. How do you feel, Joey? Is there anything you want to ask me now that Kellie is finally in bed?”

  “Tell me the truth, Dad. I am old enough to handle the truth.”

  I am so proud of my son. “She had a good day today. I am happy that she can swallow. Your mother is working hard at trying to communicate. Several times this evening she tried to speak to me. Once we have the evaluation, it will be easier to prescribe the proper treatment options. I won’t lie to you, Joey. It will take several months for your mother to recover.”

  “Tomorrow I will ask your Mom if she wants to see you and Kellie. Don’t be disappointed if she says no. She already refused to see her parents. She can’t communicate, and I can guarantee she is frustrated. Now, it’s time for you to hit the sack. I don’t like seeing dark circles under your eyes. Stay focused son. You need to maintain your grade point average in your senior year.” Joey surprises me when he gives me a hug and a kiss. I hold him for a few precious minutes and feel a connection to my son that goes beyond love.

  Chapter Twelve

  Diane

  My entire body is on pins and needles. I am excited, nervous, and anxious.

  My evaluation is in a few hours.

  Where is Ethan? He promised he would do this with me!

  I close my eyes and attempt to relax. M yleg and arm are itchy under the casts.

  How long until the doctor removes the casts?

  I have been so focused on my memory, I’ve ignored my broken bones.

  Why can I think clearly, but when I try to speak, nothing comes out of my mouth?

  I don’t understand any of this.

  I am so thankful and grateful I have Ethan’s support. I pray everything goes smoothly today.

  I want my life back.

  Where are the children? It surprises me that I want to see them.

  I am so tired, and my head hurts. I think I’ll close my eyes for a few minutes.

  The darkness no longer comforts me.

  It feels like a prison, and I cannot escape the darkness.

  Ethan

  Diane is sleeping when I enter her room. She looks peaceful for the first time since the accident. I try not to make noise as I move around her room. It’s just after eight in the morning, and breakfast should be arriving soon. I pull up a chair and sit as close to her bed as possible. I love watching my wife sleep. It is one of the many things I miss about her. Our quiet time in the morning is precious to me. Diane always jokes that I like morning sex because she is still half asleep and compliant.

  It is true that I like morning sex, but it’s not for that reason. I don’t know how to explain it. The room is semi-dark and quiet. My beautiful wife’s soft, warm body is pressed up against mine. Diane has a habit of rolling over and pressing her face against my shoulder blade. The feeling of her soft body against mine, her feminine scent, and the way her hand touches me stirs emotions in me that are so intense, so overwhelming, there is only one way to express those feelings.

  She knows how to get to me, and I let her dominate me. I let her take control because there is nothing more beautiful than seeing Diane ride me. Her beautiful breasts sway with the movement of her body. Her face portrays all of her emotions, and I love watching her come. I love feeling myself let go when her muscles squeeze around my cock. God, I’m getting hard thinking about this. The sound of the food cart snaps me back to the present. I can’t get up, not until I lose the erection.

  “You can leave the tray on the table. I’ll wake my wife.”

  “Sure thing. Do you want breakfast too?”

  “No, thanks. I’ve had something at home.”

  When I am finally able to stand up, Diane is awake and looking at me. She smiles as she raises the bed. I move the table closer to her bed and take the lid off the tray. “Wow, breakfast looks good. Oatmeal, yogurt, toast, and apple juice.”

  Diane reaches for a spoon and feeds herself. The action is intuitive. I don’t think she realizes what she has done. She is so focused on eating that she doesn’t see me staring at her. When the last bit of food is gone, I applaud her, and she looks surprised.

  “Baby steps Diane. This is a good start.”

  I can see that she is pleased with herself. Let’s hope the remainder of the day is as productive.

  “Are you ready to see the doctors?”

  Diane nods yes. Ten minutes later, the room is full of doctors and different therapists. I have a basic knowledge of how head trauma affects the brain. The people in Diane’s room are experts in their field, and they conduct several different tests to determine the extent of her impairment. Several times I have to mask over my expression when she fails at something. I can see it in her eyes. She’s afraid, and quite frankly, so am I. Diane’s frustration reaches its breaking point, and she slammed her hand on the table and said, “Why…me?”

  Everyone is surprised and happy to hear her voice. Diane looks at me with a shocked expression on her face; then she smiles at me. It is the most beautiful sight in the world. Her smile melts my heart. I stand up and applaud her. “Well done honey. Can you say something else?”

  Several seconds pass before she said, “Head…hurts!’

  I turn to the doctors in the room. “That’s enough for today. I’ll meet with you later this morning.”

  Once everyone leaves the room, Diane closes her eyes and rubs her temples. I sit on the bed next to her and wiggle my fingers. “Let me do that for you. I have magic fingers.”

  Diane closes her eyes as I begin to massage her temples. She doesn’t remember the many times I have done this for her, especially after a hectic day at school. My mind drifts as my fingers lightly glide across her temples. I would light one of her favorite scented candles, turn down the bedroom lights, and massage her temples, neck, and shoulders with eucalyptus oil. I wish I had some now. Would it spark a memory? I can see Diane relaxing as I massage her tense shoulders, and within minutes, she falls asleep. I am still in her room, standing by the window when she wakes an hour later.

  Diane

  Ethan is still in the room with me. I am so excited. I have spoken a few words. Can I do it again?

  Whatever he did to me helped ease the pain in my head.

  “Where.. are the… doctors?”

  It shocks me to hear my voice. How did this happen? A few hours ago, I could not speak. Ethan turns around to look at me, and the smile that is on his face makes me feel uncomfortable. He looks at me, and I can see the love in his eyes, but I have no feelings for him. He is a stranger to me.

  “The evaluation is finished, Diane. I am meeting wi
th them soon to discuss your treatment options. I’ll come back and talk to you later today.”

  He is tense. I can see it. Is he mad at me? Why do I feel anxious? Does my face convey what I am feeling towards him? I don’t want to hurt him. “Okay, thank you… for being here… with me.”

  “Where else would I be, Diane?”

  “I don’t… know. I only… wanted to thank… you.”

  He bends down to kiss my forehead. “You’re welcome.”

  That's all he said as he walks out of my room.

  Ethan

  I just acted like a total fucking idiot. Why am I angry? Did I think just because Diane can say a few words, that she will suddenly regain her memory? Fucking idiot! It’s not that simple. I am still kicking myself in the ass when I walk to the rehabilitation wing of the hospital. Helen Crandall meets me, and we walk to her office. She opens Diane’s folder, and I hold my breath. The look on her face tells me we have a long road ahead of us.

  “Ethan, as you are aware, we have only performed a preliminary examination, but from what I can see, we need to focus on cognitive responses. Flash cards, primary school reading material, and hand-eye coordination. Also, as with any concussion, the speed of recovery varies with each patient. This type of recovery cannot be rushed. There will be times of clarity, followed by extreme confusion. It could take several months before the symptoms subside.”

  “Can she remain in the hospital, or will you move her to another facility? I would like her to stay here because I want to be a participant in her therapy.”

  “This is the best place for her. It is good that Diane can swallow without aspirating. It’s also good that she is slowly regaining her speech. I want to start out by focusing on reading and word association.”

  “How soon can you start treatment?”

  “Is tomorrow too soon for you?”

  “That’s perfect. Inbox me with my wife’s schedule. I want to be present for every session.”

  “I can do that. I would like to schedule two hours daily for at least two weeks. After two weeks, we can re-evaluate to determine whether we need to adjust the schedule.”

  “That sounds good to me. Is there anything specific that you want me to do?”

  “No. You are only there for moral support. It would be easier and less confusing for Diane if she focused on one person.”