Monica opened her eyes slowly the next morning, almost as if they were controlled by the sunlight, which passed through the window.
The brown tubular rail upon which the curtain rods rode to hide the occupant of the bed wasn't familiar to her. She wondered why such a thing was needed in her apartment.
"I wonder why my alarm didn't go off this morning," she said, blinking her eyes. "I'll probably be late for work. Funny, I can't remember where I do work. Have to get up and see what time it is."
Her brain gave the signal to move, but her body would not respond. "What is wrong?" she yelled, "what is wrong with my legs?"
"Ma'am," said a middle-aged nurse who rushed into Monica's room. "You were in an automobile accident yesterday, and,"
"You mean I've been unconscious since yesterday," interrupted Monica.
"Yes, I'm afraid so," said Maggie, her nurse. "You have a cut on your head and some other problems which the doctor will tell you about this morning when he comes in to see you. He has to look at the X-rays taken of your head and body yesterday."
"Was anyone in my car with me when the accident happened?" questioned Monica.
"I believe a man named Bob was driving your automobile when a pickup truck collided with your car," Maggie answered. "BobBob, I don't know anyone named Bob," Monica gave a puzzled look. "What time is it, nurse?"
"It is ten minutes past eight," said Maggie. "The doctor will be in at nine-thirty to check you over and have a talk with you. Meanwhile, I will go and get you something to drink."
Maggie now knew something the doctor didn't know; Monica was probably suffering from amnesia. She thought about what she would do if she were in the same dire circumstances. Maggie was just as attractive as Monica, a little heavier at one-hundred-thirty eight pounds as compared to Monica's one-hundred fifteen pounds. Both of them were five feet, five inches tall.
Maggie could see herself twenty years ago, when she was twenty-five. Monica and Maggie both sported blonde hair, but the color of their eyes was different. The blue sparkled in Monica's, but Maggie's twinkled just as brightly. Maggie and Monica's features were sharp, their noses curved exactly right and in a ratio, which paralleled the ears, eyes and mouth. The weight of both bodies was distributed properly over their bones, with no excess hanging in the flab state. Their lips were luscious without being highlighted with brilliant lipstick. The nationality of the two was different, Monica being Irish, and Maggie, Italian. They even liked country music and both had learned to play the guitar at the age of twenty.
Maggie reached the area where the beverages were stored. "I need a glass of ginger ale for the patient in room 426," said Maggie to the attendant.
"Coming right up," said the young man with long hair. "Thank you, Jim," she smiled.
"You are welcome, Maggie," responded the fellow.
Maggie traced her footsteps back to the room where Monica lay. "Here is some ginger ale for you," Maggie said upon entering the room.
"Thank you very much for getting it for me," Monica smiled. "Would you help me to take a sip or two?"
"Sure," said Maggie. She held the Styrofoam container near Monica's mouth and positioned the straw for her. Monica opened her lips and accepted the long cylinder, which would allow her to suck the liquid into her mouth. Three sips and she forced the flexible tubing from her mouth by turning her head.
"Boy, that really tasted good going down the throat," said Monica.
"I'm glad you like our brand of ginger ale," smiled Maggie. "We do have people who think it looks like pee water. Some have even mentioned that it tastes like the waste."
Monica chuckled, "I don't know about that, but those people probably drink more than I do. Can I have some more, please?" She drank half the contents of the container and stopped once more for a rest. "What is your name?" she asked the nurse.
"My name is Maggie."
"That's a nice name," said Monica. "How long have you been a nurse?"
"In July, I will have been a nurse for twenty two years, taking out two years when I had my two children."
"Has your husband wanted you to work all these years?" Monica poised another question.
"He enjoyed having me working and having a career, which is unusual, but we did get to travel a bit. Unfortunately, my husband died from a heart attack last year while we were camping. Bill and I were the same age, and forty five is a very young age to die."
"I'm sorry," Monica's expression changed from a smile to somber.
"That's okay," said Maggie, "Bill and I had a lot of good times together. We were married for twenty years and I have many memories of the life we shared before he passed away."
"I didn't mean to bring up painful memories," interrupted Monica.
"Believe me, Monica, none of the memories I have are painful, no matter how much trouble we ever had together. The only problem I've had is getting adjusted to not seeing him at home, but my son and daughter try to make up for the loss. They both resemble Bill, or maybe I just see them that way. Naturally, they both miss him and the things they used to do together. When my son was small, he had his father teach him how to play ball, swim, golf, fish and hunt. They spent a lot of time together while young Billy was growing up and it seemed they were always together in the last few years before my husband died. Bill spent just as much time with our daughter. He encouraged both of them to live a good life and nobody in our family drank or smoked. Gee, here I am rambling on and on and you are the person with the problems. "
"That's okay," said Monica, "I really enjoy listening to people talk, and you seem like such a wonderful person to have such a tragedy darken your life."
"Thank you," Maggie said, reaching for Monica's hand, then gently squeezing it.
"The doctor should be in to see you shortly," said Maggie, "so I'll let you get a little rest before he shows up. If you need anything, Monica, just press the button on the cord laying on your bed, near your right hand and either myself or one of the other nurses will come to you."
"How do you know my name is Monica, Maggie?"
"That's the name the police found on your driver's license in your purse, and your companion, Bob, also identified you."
"I really don't know any Bob, Maggie. Do you think this man called Bob forced his way into my car and was responsible for the wreck?"
"No, I don't think so, Monica, because Bob, I understand is your fiancé."
"My God, I wish I could remember who I am and where I was going yesterday," Monica questioned herself. "See you later," said Maggie, waving to Monica.
Monica's eyelids became heavy and she dozed into thoughtless sleep. Her eyes would open briefly and then close once more.
At ten o'clock, her sleep was aroused by peoples' voices. Her eyes flickered and she saw a man and woman standing at the foot of her bed.
They noticed she was awakening.
"Hi again, Monica," said Maggie, "this is Doctor Stepanic. He is here to speak with you about your injuries."
"I'm very glad to meet you, Monica. You seem to be in good spirits after having a terrible accident yesterday. We usually don't find many people feeling as good as you seem to be after suffering the types of injuries that you have," Doctor Stepanic said, offering his hand to Monica. "The nurse tells me you are having a little trouble remembering just who you are supposed to be. Is that correct?"
"Yes," she answered, "I don't know what my name is."
"Well, that sometimes happens when people have taken a bump as hard as the one you had," said the doctor. "The windshield which you came in contact with must have taken quite a beating. You do have a fractured skull, Monica, not a bad one but enough so we'll have to keep our eye on you for a period if time. You also have numerous scratches and bruises on your body from being tossed around. Those we can take care of without too much difficulty. Your scalp wound took fourteen stitches to close. I understand that the truck driver who came upon the accident yesterday had a lot to do with saving your life when he applied pressure to the wound to stop the bleeding. It's probably lucky for you and your fiancé that the trucker happened along when he did, otherwise you might not be able to see the sun and sky today."
"What about the rest of my body, doctor? I tried to get up and couldn't. Why can't I move my legs? What's wrong with me?"
"We aren't exactly sure about the injury to your back at this point, Monica," he replied, his voice almost changing to a whisper, "but you do have spinal problems."
"Spinal problems," cried Monica. "Does that mean I won't ever walk again?"
"I don't know right now," he said trying to calm her down.
"You don't know! Well, I know. If my brain tells my legs to move and they don't, that means I can't walk. How could this happen to me? I don't even remember being in any accident and the next thing I know is that I can't walk. This must all be a bad dream and I'll wake up soon and find myself in my apartment." Tears began to roll down her cheeks.
"Give her a sedative," said the doctor to Maggie. "I think she could stand some more rest. I'll speak with you later, Monica," he promised.
"I don't need any sedative," said Monica. "Just tell me whether I will be able to walk."
"We'll talk later on after you have had some more rest," assured Doctor Stepanic. "By that time, I will have consulted with some other doctors about the injury to your back."
"You already know the answer, don't you?" she questioned. "You just will not tell me right now." Maggie entered the room with the shot for Monica and walked to her bedside to administer the injection.
"Get away from me with that needle," yelled Monica, "I want the doctor to tell me what's wrong with my legs."
Doctor Stepanic moved to help Maggie roll up Monica's sleeve so she could give the shot. He said nothing more and in a few minutes Monica was persuaded to sleep without any more talking. "When she awakens, Maggie, please give me a call and I'll come over to see her."
"Certainly, doctor," Maggie smiled. They both walked to the door.
As they meandered back to the nurses' station, Maggie said, "Do you think she has temporary amnesia, doctor?"
"I believe so, but that doesn't bother me too much or I should say as much as the injury to her spinal cord and how she will accept the fact that she possibly may not be able to walk for the rest of her life. Even with amnesia, she doesn't seem to like that, not that any person does, but we'll find out a little more today. I have Doctor Smythe and Doctor Leving looking over the X-rays to see if they confirm my prognosis. Where is her chart?"
"Here it is," Maggie handed it to him.
Doctor Stepanic bid the nurses at the station goodbye and started for the conference room where he was to meet Doctors Smythe and Leving.
When he opened the door to the room, neither of them was there, so he sat down into a cushioned chair at the head of the long brown table. As he sunk into the chair, the door opened and six foot, two hundred twenty five pound Doctor Smythe entered, followed by Doctor Leving, who was somewhat shorter at five-eight. These two doctors were the best around as far as Doctor Stepanic was concerned and he always praised them whenever he had the opportunity to toot their horn.
"Good morning, Jim," said Doctor Smythe to Stepanic.
"Hello Bob and Lou," said Doctor Stepanic to Bob Smythe and Lou Leving. "How are you fellows doing this fine morning?"
"We are doing great," said Bob, "I even let Lou buy my breakfast this morning, since we had a bet on who would win the baseball game last night and guess who won?"
"I didn't mind buying breakfast, but did you ever see this guy eat?" laughed Lou.
"Yes, I have seen him have a bite or two," Doctor Stepanic replied. "I remember the time we were in college and he ate ten hamburgers at one sitting."
"Well, I'm certainly glad we didn't bet on buying lunch or dinner," quipped Lou.
"If we keep talking about all the good food I eat, we'll never be able to discuss your patient," Smythe said with a smile. "You are right," added Lou, "let's get down to the problem."
"Jim, we have looked over the X-rays of your patient and we agree with you that the woman will probably never walk again. She has severe spinal damage and nothing short of a miracle will allow her to regain the use of her legs."
"That's what I thought," said Jim. "It's really too bad that at this stage in the girl's life, along with the spinal problem, she has amnesia."
"Do you believe that to be a temporary problem?" asked Bob.
"I think it will prove to be that, but maybe if she can't remember who she is, the knowledge that she will not walk again might not be too hard to swallow, but I doubt that," said Doctor Stepanic.
"We'll be glad to consult with you on the patient at any time," responded Lou.
"Certainly, if we can be of help let us know," added Bob. "Thanks guys," Doctor Stepanic gratefully responded.
"Well, we have some other cases and patients to look at, Jim, so we had better hit the trail since no one has yet figured out how to increase the number of available hours in each day," said Bob Smythe rising from his chair.
"Okay, I'll see you two later, and thanks for your help."
The two consultants left the room while Doctor Stepanic sat in the brown chair pondering how not being able to walk would affect Monica.
"No matter how many times I go through this, it's never easy to tell a patient about their problems which will have a stinging effect on their life," he said aloud while pulling a pen from his shirt pocket.
He rapped the table with the blue purveyor of words and designs thinking just a little more about how he would finally tell the girl she would no longer be able to walk, then he sprang from the chair and left the room for his next patient.