Chapter 6:

 

If I Needed Support…

In therapy they made me discuss everything. My feelings and painful garbage like that. Was that supposed to help me? Sorry...I don’t think so. Talking about it was only more depressing. I’m paralyzed...in a wheelchair...c’mon now, it doesn’t get much worse than that. Well, it could but we’ll just leave it alone. I went to see the therapist, but I never said anything to her where I really opened up. I’d rather talk about this stuff with people I know. Total strangers prying into my private life (what little that is) was just not a comfortable situation. Especially not now.

The only thing that the therapist wanted to talk about, was the media attention. I don’t watch the news, and I don’t have a regular news magazine I read. I was pretty oblivious to any coverage of my situation. “So, Nick...what do you think of the way the media is reacting?”

I scratched at my nose. “I don’t know. I haven’t watched the news, haven’t read a newspaper, don’t know a damn thing people are saying.”

She reached behind her desk and pulled out a small stack of magazines. People, US Weekly, Entertainment Weekly... was that a TV guide I was on? “This is a small number of what's out there.”

I didn’t care. Could she not see this? I really didn’t care about anything anymore... I just wanted to wake up from this dream. Either that, or die. “I don’t really care.” I didn’t wanna be rude, but I had to be honest.

“You’re not the least bit curious about opinions? What fans think? Expert opinions on whether you’ll walk again?” Her eyebrows arched.

I stared at her blankly. “Look...I’m depressed enough as it is, all right? I don’t need some dimwitted ‘expert’ opinions! I already know my prognosis, and it’s not very good...I could care less about this whole thing!”

“That’s it... Just let your feelings out.”

I sighed heavily, running a hand lazily through my mess of hair, “Can I just go back to my room, please? I don’t feel like talking much today.”

She nodded, and I wheeled myself back into my room. I sat there, staring at the bed. It was too high, and I couldn’t get into it on my own. Where was Harmony? I looked behind me, but I didn’t see her in the hallway. I wheeled closer towards the high bed, and thought about attempting it. No. I didn’t wanna fall or anything, I might hurt myself...more than I already was.

I decided I’d just sit there and wait for her, or perhaps one of my other nurses. Nothing. I waited for a while, and nobody came. Maybe she was busy with some other patients. I sighed heavily, and wheeled out into the hallway. Nurses passed me, without giving me a second glance. I didn’t see one of my nurses. Not one. Looking left, then right, and left again - nobody. Careful not to run over anyone, I went over to a desk. “Can you tell me where Harmony is?”

The small woman looked at me awkwardly, “I don’t know where she is.”

“Can you page her or something?” I asked, almost in a begging tone.

“Do you need help?”

“Harmony’s my nurse. I kinda need my nurse, ya know?”

She rolled her eyes, as if to say she’d seen it all before.

“Please can you page her?” I asked politely.

She nodded, grabbing a telephone and calling Harmony to the desk over the loud speaker. When she was finished, she stared at me, an angered look on her face. “Ya happy now?”

I nodded. Within a few minutes, Harmony came right up to the desk. “Nick, what’s wrong? Are you all right?” She asked, looking me over quickly.

I remained silent and rolled back into my room, with her following me.

“Nick?”

I faced her, “Where were you?”

“I was waiting to be paged from your therapy so I could come and get you! I waited, and waited and...”

“I hate that bitch!”

“Nick, Dr. Nelson is not a bitch.”

“She’s not someone I wanna tell my problems to. I don‘t even know her. I‘m not gonna tell someone my problems if I have to address them as ‘Doctor.’”

She smiled, “You’re the only patient I’ve ever had that has called her a bitch.”

“I’m just the only one with the balls to admit it.”

I heard her laugh lightly. “Well, they’ll want you to talk to someone. You’re paying for the service, believe me.”

“I’d rather talk to you.”

“I’m perfectly fine with that. I told you that you can tell me anything...and I did mean that.”

“Thank you.”

She looked down at me, “Do you need me to help you get into bed?”

I looked down at the floor and nodded. She rolled me over to the bedside, and instructed me to hold on to the bed, as usual, and she helped lift my dead half into the bed. When we were successful, she covered me up with the slightly stiff, white sheets. “Thanks.”

“It’s no problem.” There was a short uncomfortable silence. “Do you want to go to your support group meeting later?”

“Do I have to? I mean, if I needed the support I’d buy a bra!”

She shook her head, a slight smile on her face. “You’re precious.”

“I’m serious. I don’t want to go in there and talk to those people.”

“Nick, sweetie, you’re shutting people out. You can’t do that.”

“I’m not shutting anyone out, I’m just...I’m a shy person. I'm happiest when I'm alone.”

She took a seat beside my bed. “I’ve seen all this happen before. You’re uncomfortable talking about these feelings and emotions because they’re unfamiliar to you.”

I studied her face, and nodded in agreement.

“You don’t blame anyone for this...do you?”

“I don’t know."

“You blame someone for what happened to you?”

“My friend was driving and it was his -”

She stopped me, “Nick, there was no one at fault.”

“But he was driving and he...” I felt my eyes burning, “he did this to me.” I whispered silently.

“No he didn’t.”

“It’s Brian’s fault Harmony! If we wouldn’t have went to that stupid basketball game, I’d still be able to walk!” I wiped my eyes, sniffling.

“Don’t you believe that everything happens for a reason?”

I thought for a moment. Yes, I’d always believed everything happened in a logical order, for some apparent reason...but not things like this. When I’d made that assumption initially, I never foresaw this in my future! “Yeah, but...”

“You don’t think that God intended for this to happen?”

“No!” I screamed, my eyes stinging. “What am I being punished for? What did I do to deserve this?”

“Don’t cry sweetheart,” she said, placing her hand on mine. As her fingers lightly stroked my hand, I lied back and closed my eyes. “You’re not being punished for anything.”

“Then why did this have to happen to me?” I cried lightly. Her hand moved up to my face, and caressed my cheek.

“Things happen, and we don’t know why, but eventually, all of the pieces will fit together logically. It will all make sense sometime, Nick.”

 

***

 

 

ß Back | Next à