Page 19 of Maybe in Another Life

I nod. I don’t know what else to do.

“First, on a scale of one to ten, how much pain are you in? Ten being so excruciating you don’t think you can bear it for another second. One being you feel perfectly fine.”

I start to try to talk, but she stops me.

“Show me on your fingers. Don’t hold them up. Don’t move your arms. Just show me with your hands at your sides.”

I look down at my hands, and then I pull back the four fingers on my left hand.

“Six?” she says. “OK.”

She writes something down in the folder and starts fiddling with one of the machines behind me.

“We’re going to get you down to one.” She smiles. It’s a reassuring smile. She seems to think everything is going to be OK. “Soon you’ll have an easier time moving your arms and torso, and speaking won’t be too hard once you’ve been up for a little while. You have suffered blood loss and broken bones. That’s an oversimplification, but it will work for now. You’re going to be OK. Walking, at first, is going to be hard. You will need to practice a bit before it comes naturally to you again, but it will, one day, come naturally to you again. That’s what I want you to take away from this conversation.”

I nod. It hurts less this time. Whatever she did, it hurts less this time.

“Now, you’ve been unconscious for three days. Some of that time was because of the blow to the head you sustained during the accident, but the rest is because we put you under for surgery.”

She’s quiet for a moment, and I see her look off to the side. She turns back to me.

“It’s perfectly normal if you don’t remember the accident. It may take some time to come back. Do you remember the accident?”

I start to answer her.

“Just nod or shake your head for now,” she says.

I shake my head slightly.

“That’s fine. That is completely normal. Nothing to be concerned about.”

I nod to let her know I understand.

“Now, as I said, we can go over the details of your injury and your surgery when you are feeling a bit stronger. But there is one last thing that I want to make sure you know as soon as possible.”

I stare at her. Waiting to hear what she has to say.

“You were pregnant,” she says. “At the time of the accident.”

She picks up my chart and consults a piece of paper.

Wait, what did she just say?

“It looks like you were about ten weeks along. Did you know? Nod or shake your head if you feel up for it.”

I can feel my heart start to beat faster. I shake my head.

She nods in understanding. “OK,” she says. “That’s more common than you think. If you’re not trying to get pregnant and you don’t always have regular periods, it’s possible not to figure it out at this stage of the pregnancy.”

I continue to stare, unsure what, exactly, is happening right now, stunned silent.

“The baby did not make it through,” she says. “Which, unfortunately, is also common.”

She waits for me to respond, but I have no response. My mind is blank. All I can feel is my eyes blinking rapidly.

“I am sorry,” she says. “I imagine this is a lot for you to digest at once. We have a number of resources here at the hospital to help you deal with everything that has happened. The good news, and I really do hope you are able to see the good news, is that you are going to be physically back to normal soon.”

She looks at me. I avert my eyes. And then I nod. It occurs to me that my hair is down around my face. I must have lost my hair tie. It feels sort of uncomfortable like this, down. I want it back up in a bun.

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