Early the next morning at eight o'clock, Doctor Stepanic was in to see how Monica was feeling. She was awakened by the movement of hospital personnel and the traffic surrounding the area where the hospital was located. The blaring of horns on automobiles becoming discouraged by their drivers was evident by the number of times she heard them blasting.
"How are you doing this noisy morning?" asked the doctor upon entering her room.
"Pretty good, considering all the racket going on outside, one could almost believe there was a parade or some important event taking place early in the morning."
"I can assure you that nothing like an important event is happening outside, Monica. Just a lot of irate motorists unhappy with the way traffic is moving this morning. For some reason or another, the volume of cars on the road is more than usual and because of detours, people tend to get mad whenever they find things are not going their way, particularly when they are confined in their auto. I had a little difficulty getting here this morning, but other than a slowdown in some sections, the traffic isn't all that bad."
"What time did you get up this morning, Doctor?"
"Six-thirty."
"You must always be an early riser."
"Well, Monica. It is like this, I have an operation scheduled for this morning and have to see several patients. So, I figured that I would get in here as early as possible and get the job done. You do understand that even though we may schedule a patient for surgery at a particular time, chances are fifty-fifty that the operation will take place earlier."
"I didn't know that," said Monica, somewhat surprised. "Why do hospitals do things like that?"
"Partially to get the patient psyched up for a certain time and instead of the individual waiting for the specific time, he or she is happy to get it over with. Waiting is always a problem whenever something important is about to transpire, particularly whenever the something is an operation on one's body."
"I know exactly what you mean about waiting."
"By the way, Monica, have you told your fiancé about your condition as yet?"
"No, Bob was in here and still thinks there is a problem with my back, but nothing as serious as not being able to walk again."
"I would suggest that you get the talk over with him as quickly as you can, Monica. The knowledge of your predicament would enable both of you to make or plan for your future."
"What kind of future do you think we will have together after I inform him of my problem?"
"I do not know, Monica, only your informing him and getting his reaction will answer that question. Your prolonging the inevitable will only cause you difficulty in the long run."
"Do you believe I will lose him?"
"No one can answer the sixty-four dollar question except Bob, Monica."
"Yes, I guess that is right, Doctor." She herself had wondered how Bob would react to her situation. Was it better to have him find another person to love than to try to hold onto him? What was the best way to go about telling him that she couldn't walk again? Never would she be able to do the things with him they had done in the past.
"Will Bob be in to see you today?"
"Sometime, but I don't know when."
"If there is a good time to do what you have to do, Monica, now is that time. It will be hard for you to get out the message, but better for you now, than later, no matter how long you would like to hold off. I will be around somewhere in the hospital all day and if you want me to come and help you with the disclosure, just give me a buzz. Sooner or later, Bob is going to find out you are not able to walk and then what do you think he is going to say to you, if he hasn't heard it from you?"
"That is exactly what I have been trying to figure out."
"Remember what I said, Monica," spoke the doctor as he walked to the doorway, "if you need me I will be here."
"Thanks, Doctor Stepanic. See you."
When the doctor was gone, Monica began to think more about the consequences of telling Bob about her spinal problem. Would he want to hear about it? Would he just tell her to forget about them getting married? He was talking about the two of them still being in love and getting married the other day. After he found out, would he still be the same? Could he accept being married to a cripple or even being seen with one? These thoughts were crumpling her mind. She could think of nothing else and even when the woman brought in her food that morning and asked her how she was doing, Monica ignored her.
Believing that Monica was in a bad mood, the lady left the breakfast and went out the room mumbling to herself about some of the patients in the hospital being stuck up.
Stuck up ... those words interrupted her thought processes. "If that woman only knew how I felt, she wouldn't be talking like that," Monica whispered.
At seven o'clock that evening, Bob came to the room where Monica was lying. "Hey, Monica," he said as he whisked himself to her side.
"Hello, Bob, how did your day go?"
"Pretty good, Monica."
"You don't sound too happy this evening, Monica. What is wrong? "
"Am I too late? Was there something I was to bring you and forgot?"
"No, Bob, you haven't done anything to make me sad or mad."
"Then what is it?"
"Nothing, just female problems. You know how women get upset over nothing every so often."
"Okay, then, why don't you and I go for a stroll around the floor? Would you like to do that?"
"I would like to, Bob, but I can't."
"Why not?" he asked with both hands resting on his hips.
"Do you want me to help you out of bed?"
"Will you cut it out, Bob? I can't walk around the floor."
"What is wrong, Monica?"
She decided to tell him the truth even though she knew they both would be hurt.
Monica tried to prepare her voice so it would not crackle when she spoke, but being uneasy and feeling the way she did, her words were hard to control.
"They tell me that I cannot walk," her voice cracked in low tones. "What!" said Bob, not sure of the words Monica had spoken. "I will never be able to walk again," she repeated, turning her head away from him.
"You can't mean that, Monica?" He was shaken by her words.
She did not look at him. Tears filled her eyes, and she grasped a part of the white sheet to wipe them away. "Monica, look at me?" he requested.
"Why, now that you know I will never be a whole woman again, how can you still want me?"
"It doesn't make any difference, but when you get a chance to think about us, then maybe your thoughts will change."
"How do you know nothing can be done for you?"
"Because my doctor told me so. Doctor Stepanic discussed my situation with several other doctors and they came to the same conclusion he did. I will never be able to walk again, ever."
"But, doctors have been wrong." Bob tried to offer some hope.
"There isn't any sense discussing whether I will walk again, Bob, because it is unlikely that will happen. It would probably be better for both of us if we didn't see each other for a while."
"Why not?"
"If you have some time to think about us, Bob, maybe you will come to a different conclusion about our future."
"Maybe you are right," he agreed.
His statement worried Monica. Now that she had suggested he think about her problem, she wished the words were never spoken. "I have a long way to go, Bob, in trying to rehabilitate myself, and perhaps we should see how things go after that."
Bob gazed at the floor, not sure of the meaning of the knowledge he had gained. Certainly, Monica's confession to him about her feelings was something to think about for a time.
Monica noticed that Bob was taken back by her disclosure.
"I will see you tomorrow, Monica," he said, turning for the door. "Are you sure you want to see me again?"
"Yes."
"Don't you want to kiss me goodbye?" His back was turned.
"What did you say?" He faced her.
"Oh, nothing, Bob. It wasn't important. See you."
"Yes, Monica, I will call you." He walked out in a trance, missing by a hair, a collision with a patient trudging down the hallway behind a walker.
“Would he come back again?” She asked herself. "I hope," she said aloud.