Page 23 of Saving Emily
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Approximately an hour later, I hear someone enter Noah’s room.
“I love you, baby,” I whisper into Noah’s ear before regretfully removing myself from his bed so I can greet my visitor.
The sad and regretful eyes of the lady I tussled with earlier reflect back at me. "I thought I should introduce myself." She saunters closer to me to offer me her hand to shake. "My name is Dr. Miller. I'm a specialist who assists comatose patients with their recovery."
Although I'm still wary, I accept her handshake. I'm not one hundred percent sure what I think of Dr. Miller. It's hard to redo a first impression, and hers was less than stellar.
"I've been hired by Noah's record company to assist in his recovery,” she elaborates before pacing to Noah's bed. Things will always be tense between us, but she takes a step in the right direction when she says, "I'm sorry for the way I judged you earlier, Noah. I've only just returned to my position after having the last twelve months off. I don’t keep track of the news or media sites, so I was unaware of what had happened.”
17
“Because of how long Noah has been immobile, it’s imperative that he commences physiotherapy treatment on a twice-daily basis,” Dr. Miller advises me.
After apologizing to Noah yesterday, Dr. Miller informed me Noah’s recovery sessions would commence early the very next morning. She didn’t offer a reason for her sudden shift in demeanor, but since I’m aware the record company wouldn’t pay for her assistance if they didn’t think she could help, I agreed to allow her to assist in Noah’s recovery.
“Physiotherapy for a coma patient is different from regular physio programs. Noah’s therapy will involve talking, touch, movement, massage, and exercise of his limbs. It’s important you continue to speak with him as studies have shown patients can hear when they’re in a coma. The cochlear nerve appears to function as normal.”
As she massages one of Noah’s feet, she raises her eyes to me. “Noah’s therapy will be both physical and emotional.” She continues massaging his limbs, going from his foot to his calf muscle.“What would you like to talk about today, Noah?” I smile at the face she pulls when Noah somewhat grimaces at her question. “Not the talkative type, eh?”
I can't help but giggle when she hits the nail on the head. Noah hates talking about his emotions.
“Why don’t I start, then you can tell me about yourself. I’ve been married for three years. I got married when I was twenty-five, and my husband was twenty-six. I met him at a college party. It was like,BOOM, love right then and there.” She lift Noah’s leg before guiding his knee back. “Would you like to talk about Emily? I know talking won’t take away your pain, Noah, but it will help.”
Dr. Miller moves from one side of Noah's bed to the other so she can massage his opposite foot. "Have you ever been married?" she probes, peering at me.
I twirl my engagement ring around my finger before shaking my head.
She gives me a gentle smile while she works on Noah’s leg that was severely broken. The cast was only removed two weeks ago.
A few minutes later, when Noah’s face constricts with pain, I race to his bedside, panicked by the expression crossing his face. When Dr. Miller notices his grimace, she lowers his leg onto the bed. “Sorry, Noah.”
Dr. Miller washes her hands in the vanity sink in Noah's room before giving them another once-over with an antibacterial gel from her purse. Once she has Noah's room reeking of the sanitary smell most hospitals have, she motions for me to join her in the corridor.
I have an array of questions to ask her, but she’s too quick off the mark for this little black duck. “He did remarkably well today, Emily,” she says, smiling. “The fact he registered that I was moving his leg is a positive sign cognitive brain function is returning.”
“Should we be worried he’s in pain?”
She shakes her head. “We can’t ease Noah into recoveryandkeep him under heavy sedation. He won’t be in an immense amount of pain, Emily. I promise you.”
I peer back at Noah, torn. I want him to recover quickly, but I hate the thought of him being in any pain.
"Spend the rest of the afternoon talking to him. Remind him of events, both past and present." When I nod, she gently squeezes my arm before sauntering down the corridor.
When I reenter Noah's room, I hear my cell phone ringing in my bag. It is flashing my mom's photo across the screen.
“Hi, Emily, darling,” she greets me before I have the chance to say hello.
“Hi, Mom,” I reply, only vaguely choking with emotion.
“Is everything okay?”
I smile, loving that she can hear my concern. “Yes. Noah did well today. You’d be incredibly proud of him,” I tell her. “I sure am.”
“Let me talk to him.” Confusion morphs onto my face, confident my mom is certifiably mad. “Put him on the phone, darling. I want to talk to my boy.”
“Okay,” I reply, strolling to Noah’s bedside.
