inconkit Posted July 21, 2023 Posted July 21, 2023 This story is a translation from an unfinished story I wrote in French a few years back. I've changed up a few little things, but it's still mostly the same. I'm translating it in small bits at a time, but I'm also planning to keep going once I reach the end of what I originally wrote. Hopefully you guys enjoy it! The Awakening Chapter 1: A brutal awakening Everything is foggy. I’m trying to wake up. I feel like I’m trying to swim up from the depths of the ocean. Darkness turns to gray, then to blinding light. I’ve opened my eyes. It takes a few attempts until I’m able to keep them open for more than a second or two. I think I also dozed off in between those attempts. I’m not really sure. Eventually though, it seems like I’m able to keep them open. Where am I? My vision is very clouded, but I can see I’m lying in a bed. I think it’s a hospital bed : the room does look a lot like a hospital room. I’m covered with a very light sheet. I feel so weak, I can barely lift my head. There’s a pole next to me, with a bag of solute hung onto it and a tube goes from it straight into my arm. I feel like I’ve been asleep for months. But as much as I try, I can’t remember being in any sort of accident or anything that might lead to me being hospitalized. How long have I been here? My vision is awful, but as I look around me, I don’t notice any flowers, cards or any of the kind of stuff you would typically expect if I had been in a hospital and I had been visited by friends and family. Either it hasn’t been long enough for that to happen, or, and it makes me shudder to think, I've been there for so long that this kind of “get well” stuff has been removed and not replaced. That or maybe movies have been lying to me all my life about how these things go. This thought is enough to make me smile weakly. On that thought, I also realize that this hospital is weirdly silent. If this were really a hospital, wouldn’t there be nurses and people walking about everywhere? But I can’t hear anyone, as if I were completely alone. This thought wakes me up a little bit more, and I’m starting to feel tinges of panic making its way across the thick fog of my mind. With great pain, I try to move my arms, but try as I might, I feel like my arms have been replaced by wet spaghetti. With great effort, I move my head to look at them through my foggy vision. It’s hard to be sure, but from what I can see it seems like my arms are extremely skinny. I’ve never been fat, but those arms look like what you’d see in an african famine documentary! My heart starts beating faster as panic once again creeps into me. How long have I been here? I feel a piece of rubber near my hand. Moving my fingers to touch it, I think it’s another tube, and I think it’s going under the sheets. The discomfort I feel around my privates confirms that this must be a catheter. In fact, this piece of tube going inside me is so uncomfortable I wonder how I didn’t notice it before, though I’m still so numb to everything that maybe it isn’t all that surprising. For the first time the thought truly crosses my mind : I was in a coma. And looking at my arms, it seems obvious that I’ve been in that state for at least some time. Immediately I start thinking of those stories where people awaken after years in a coma and struggle to get back to their old life because it’s been so long. How long would it take for me to lose as much weight as I did? I try to remember how old I am. How.. old? I… I can’t remember. A vague memory of entering a brand new apartment flashes in my mind. And entering university? So I’m.. college aged? I try to reason. At most, I must have been asleep a couple weeks, maybe a few months at the max. People who wake up from a coma after years are extremely rare, and when they do they’re basically vegetables, unable to do anything for themselves. Vegetable. That word makes me feel a deep pit in my stomach. The silence of the room becomes suffocating. I don't understand why I haven’t seen a nurse yet. Shouldn’t I be hooked up to a machine that would warn them if I woke up, or something like that? I try to scream, but the only sound I’m able to produce is a pathetic moan. This attempt at screaming sends a wave of deep nausea across my body. It feels like I haven’t moved a muscle in years. A fresh wave of nausea mixed in with panic besieges me at the thought that this might actually be the case. I keep moaning, with barely enough strength to do it. Suddenly, I hear a door open, and can see the silhouette approaching. It’s speaking to me, but all I can make out is complete gibberish. I try moving my limbs, but once again, I can barely move any muscle in my body. Suddenly, through the gibberish, I can hear my name: “Miss Filion”. This woman’s voice knows my name. I’m actually in a hospital. They’re gonna help me. I’m gonna get better. Relieved that I am safe, but mostly because of exhaustion, I sink back into a deep slumber. I awaken once more, this time to a male voice. The owner of that voice flashes a huge smile upon seeing my eyes open. More gibberish follows: “Miss Filion! Welcome back among us, my dear one! I am doctor Brodeur. I’m the one who took care of your case since you’ve arrived here. - Oh, we have retinal reflex! She can even follow with her eyes!” As he was speaking his incoherent words, he pointed a small light in my eyes, and was waving it left and right in front of them. With great pain, I followed that light, having some vague idea that this is what I was supposed to do. I can hear how delighted he sounds after I do that, and it makes me weirdly proud. It’s weird, I feel like I should understand the words he’s saying, but somehow they’re all scrambled when I hear them. At least I can recognize the emotions in them. I attempt a weak smile to show the doctor I’m aware. I can feel spit dripping from the side of my mouth. “Miss, can you tell me what your name is?” I can hear his voice. I can hear that he’s asking me a question. I can even recognize that he’s speaking English. But I just can’t make out the meaning of what he’s saying. My pride turns to distress. I can’t understand him. I’m a vegetable. Fuck no no no no no! It seems that he’s noticed how agitated I’ve become. “Calm down, calm down! Everything is ok! You’ve been in a coma for a long time. You need to be patient!” A single word makes its way through to my broken brain: Coma. In a coma. I try to repeat the word: “aaaaaaaaah”. I’m pathetic. I can’t speak anymore. I forgot how to. I truly am a vegetable! But I did hear the word. Coma. And I am thinking to myself, speaking to myself using words in my head. Maybe I’m not completely a vegetable. I’m here. I am here. The doctor, seemingly in reaction to my attempt at vocalizing, speaks what I suppose are encouraging words. I don’t know what he’s saying, and I once again feel myself drifting off to sleep. 4
inconkit Posted July 21, 2023 Author Posted July 21, 2023 I am roused again. Another nurse. Not the same as previously. I don’t know how long I was asleep. This once speaks to me with energy. “Hi Miss Filion! I’m here to take care of you before your family visits!” It almost seems like I can understand her a bit better. I can definitely hear that she’s saying “Hi Miss Filion”, and I think she’s saying something about a visit? All the while chit chatting vigorously, she starts cleaning me up. I feel terribly embarrassed about the moist towel being rubbed on my body. It’s obvious she’s done this many times. I suddenly feel cold, and start moaning to protest it. The nurse reacts to my moaning by chit chatting even more energetically. She first started with my face, cleaning up the slobber on the side of my mouth that seemingly just lives there permanently now. She then goes to work on my skeletal arms, which she rubs gently with the towel. To my great embarrassment, she then lifts the blanket and my hospital gown, and starts working on the rest of my body, including my crotch by delicately cleaning around the catheter that is coming out of my urethra. Throughout this entire clean up, she says the name of each body part. I can understand many of those words. Arms, chest, belly, legs. I try to make noises to make her know that I’m understanding, but for now all I’m able to produce are unintelligible moanings and noises. Still, it almost feels like I’m getting back some control over my body. For the first time, I notice that on the drawer next to my bed there’s a Teddy bear. An old Teddy bear so used up it’s become bald in some spots from having been transported and hugged so much. My Teddy bear, the one I’ve had my whole childhood. Someone has visited. I’m not alone. The nurse turns over to the pole that stands next to my bed. For the first time, I notice the bag that she’s unhooking from the pole which clearly seems to be filled with urine. My urine. She replaces it with an empty one. She also replaces the bag of solutes. All those interactions and seeing all those things is suddenly starting to make me feel dizzy, overwhelmed and nauseous. My head starts to hurt. I close my eyes and once again the darkness overtakes me. A sweet and familiar voice wakes me up: “Lea? Lea!” That’s my name! I recognize it! And this voice… That’s my mom! My eyes open and I recognize the smiling face of my mom through the fog of my vision. For the first time since my initial awakening, I feel a wave of relief. My face lights up and I start moaning, the only sound I can make to show how happy I feel. My mom bends herself towards me and delicately hugs me, as if she were scared of breaking my frail, tiny body. “Lea, my precious baby girl, I can’t believe you’re finally awake!” When she’s done hugging me, I see tears in her eyes. She is sad. I can see my dad, standing aside awkwardly. Despite my vision still being foggy, I can see the tears shining on his cheeks. He gets closer to me, solemnly. “Oh my God, Lea. My God.” He also lowers himself to my level and kisses my cheek before hugging me delicately. While hugging me, he lets out a sob that sounds incredibly loud to my ears. As he slowly moves away from me, I can see an indistinguishable figure, standing even more to the side. He’s got the long dangly arms of a teenager. His long shoulder length hair vaguely reminds me of someone, but the face is still too blurry for me to recognize who this is. The figure slowly gets closer to me, and when he speaks to me, I feel like someone removed all of the air from the room. “Hi Lea… huh… it’s been a while…” I don’t immediately recognize the voice, but something about it sounds horribly familiar. And this face its… it’s Mathieu? That’s my… brother? But it can’t be him! My brother is small, he’s… how old? He was a child! This teenager is no child! That’s not possible! I think again about the empty shelves next to my bed when I woke, about my freakishly skinny arms. No! I can’t accept that! That’s impossible! There’s no way I’ve been in a coma for so long. I feel a howl of terror burgeoning deep within me. As if my frail body was literally going to explode from the emotion. I’m barely aware that I’m actually screaming, tearing up and pushing my frail lungs to their absolute limit. I feel the tears pricking my eyes, the burning pain in my throat. I see the terrified face of my brother. A face that is way too mature. This is wrong. As I keep screaming, my body starts convulsing. My eyes roll back in their sockets and I feel myself falling back into unconsciousness, with the blurry image of my brother’s face seared into my mind. His utterly terrified face, who cannot understand why I am screaming. 8
inconkit Posted July 22, 2023 Author Posted July 22, 2023 Thank you to everyone who reacted or even just read to the first parts of this story! I hope you get to enjoy this second chapter I just finished translating! Chapter 2: The harsh reality The following hours get blurred up in my head… Or perhaps those were the following days? I don’t know, time makes no sense in my head thanks to those repeated loss of consciousness and the constant fog that bogs down my brain. In those brief moments of consciousness, I’m often aware of activity taking place around me. A nurse, the same one who was there when I woke up, often manipulates my body, as if to coax it into moving after years of being stuck in a bed. She moves my arms and my legs. This nurse is always very calm, very measured as she talks. I recognize her from her very curly hair. As she manipulates me, I sometimes hear her say the word “push”, and I suppose she expects me to do that. However, my weakened body is entirely unable to do anything but pathetic uncontrolled flailings. It also seems that I can’t fully extend my limbs, even with the help of the nurse’s guiding hand. It’s almost as if my body was stuck in a partial fetal position. My control over my head, however, is getting slightly better. I’d still be unable to hold it on my own, but while I’m lying down I’m able to turn it around a little to look at different things. Next to my bed, there is now a machine that makes a regular beeping noise. I suppose this thing is monitoring my heart, which I suppose is understandable after the convulsing I’ve had. Thinking about those convulsions reminds me of my brother, and every time I do, the beeps on the machine start going faster. I really don’t want to think about that. I also see Dr. Brodeur again. I’m getting better at recognizing him and even remembering his name, because he repeats it every time we meet. He speaks a lot, but I understand very little. Like the nurse, he also manipulates my body. He rubs some parts of it and watches my reaction, sometimes taps it with a little hammer. I can understand that he’s asking me a lot of questions, but I can’t understand them and I’d be entirely unable to answer even if I did. He shows me sheets of paper with text and images on it, but I can’t read any of it. In fact, with my blurry vision, I’m not even able to see the characters properly. He also shows me cards that have symbols on them that I know to be numbers, since they are very big on the cards, but distressingly I am completely unable to recognize those numbers, or the relationship that they have with the other symbols. When he says their names as he shows them to me, I can almost recognize the name, but I then immediately forget it. The same goes when he shows me cards with words, or even just letters. I can’t do anything anymore. Those moments often cause me to panic, and I end up screaming and crying. In fact there’s been a large amount of screaming and crying since I’ve awoken here, and every time I’m greeted with soothing voices, cooing and cajoling. Sometimes it does help me to calm down, but often it doesn’t. I feel humiliated, infantilized by my situation. I vaguely remember more convulsing at times, usually in moments of intense frustration. I can hear the beeps going wild, my body tensing up and then it’s back to the darkness. In Dr. Brodeur’s testing, however, not all is lost. I’m able to recognize most daily use objects. When he says the word out loud while showing me an image of an object, I understand what he means. I can differentiate between a bed and a chair, or between a boat and a car. Of course, I have no way of letting him know that I can differentiate between those, and Dr. Brodeur must think I’m entirely dumb to his charades. I try to make him know that I’m aware of what he’s talking about by vocalizing and agitating my body. However, I don’t have much control over what movement I make or what sound I’m producing. With that said, I’m usually able to communicate my basic emotional state to my carers. And when I recognize things Dr. Brodeur is showing me, I can show him that I’m happy, and he usually reacts by being happy himself. I can recognize objects, animals, scenes of daily life, and so on. I obviously can’t understand or answer any of the questions that the doc is asking me about those things, however. I’m also able to recognize if someone is an adult, a child or a teenager (which will reminds me of my teenage brother and fill me with a tinge of panic every time). However, I’m incapable of thinking of a specific age for them, as if numbers had just vanished from my brain. All of this takes time. I can rarely ever stay awake for more than a few minutes at a time, so all of these tests take place over a long period of time, separated by long, dreamless naps. The energetic nurse who took care of my first clean up, a small short haired lady as well as a tall scary looking woman with a stern face both take turns at waking me and cleaning me up regularly. They clean up my slobber, check on sore spots on my back and change bandages in those areas. They also change my pee bag, which is always connected to the catheter between my legs. Every time they touch the tube, I feel a great discomfort that often elevates to a sharp pain, and I feel greatly disturbed to feel this thing moving inside of me. However, this unpleasant cycle is one way for me to be aware that some time is passing. After all, this bag must take some time to fill in, so it has to mean that time is indeed passing. I’m also very surprised that I haven’t felt hungry or thirsty since waking up. With my constant nausea, I’m not really surprised that I haven’t felt any need for food, but I don’t remember ever drinking anything since waking up in this hospital. With that said, I don’t feel especially dehydrated, and my very full pee bags show that I’m not indeed missing on water. I have to assume that most of my hydration and nutrition comes from my bag of solutes then, which the nurses will regularly change and inject stuff into, especially when those beeps on my machine are going crazy when I get agitated. Every time they do it, I feel much calmer, often to the point of falling asleep almost immediately. Throughout those cycles of wakefulness-unconsciousness, there was also my mom. She isn’t always there, but when she is, I immediately feel incredibly comforted and much safer. Once I woke up to see my mom sitting right next to my bed, petting my Teddy bear as if this was a way for her to feel closer to me even as I was unconscious. I have a thought for the number of times she must have sat right next to me just like that, wondering if her daughter was gonna wake up one day. Other times, she’s right above me, petting my hair and smiling at me with the sweetest of smiles. Almost every time she realizes I’m awake, she lovingly talks to me with gratitude in her voice. I see her cry a lot, too, though I’m not always sure if she’s crying tears of joy or sadness. It’s probably both. I try to communicate with her by moaning and vocalizing, which will often make her laugh or exclaim sweetly. I’d really like to understand what she says to me, but just hearing her voice is enough to make me feel much safer. Sometimes, we just look at each other, peering into each other’s eyes. Even my foggy vision can’t stop me from seeing just how many emotions are crossing those motherly eyes. Her presence also makes me feel a whole array of emotions, and when she leaves it often leaves me craving for more, and makes me feel like crying out for her presence, which I often do despite being unable to actually communicate it to my nurses. After a while, I become aware that my periods of consciousness are lasting longer and longer without drifting away back into the darkness. My consciousness remains foggy, but I’m aware I can do more things than before before falling back asleep. Eventually, my energetic nurses announces with her cheerful voice: “Good morning Miss Filion! Today is your lucky day! It’s been two days since you’ve had a seizure, so we think you’re ready try going without your catheter! That’s gonna feel really good, you’ll see!” Except for her usual “Good morning Miss Filion”, I don’t know what she’s talking about, but she does seem even more cheerful than usual about what she’s saying. Instead of cleaning me up as she usually does, she immediately lifts my blanket and hospital gown and goes between my legs. While she often does that when cleaning me up, it’s the first time she goes there first. This makes me feel insecure and I express it with a worried moan. “Don’t worry my dear, it’s going to sting a little, but you’re going to be so much more comfortable afterward!” I’m starting to panic not knowing what she’s doing, especially since at this angle, I can’t even see her because I can’t lift my head to look down at her. Suddenly, I feel a tugging and a sharp pain between my legs, something worse than I’ve ever felt while she was tending to my needs. I don’t understand what’s going on and I start crying. She keeps working between my legs for a few seconds, and then goes back near my face to console me. The pain is gone, but I still feel it afterglow ringing through my body like waves in a pond. I’m still crying in fear more than anything. “It’s over, it’s over! I’m so sorry Miss Filion I know this was painful but now you’re gonna be so much more comfortable! Now all we need to do is put you in an absorbent brief so you don’t wet the mattress!” Her tone is soothing and reassuring, which does put me slightly more at ease. However, it seems like she isn’t done with me yet. I start getting scared again. What if she hurts me again? She fetches something that looks like a thick white plastic bag which she unfolds and starts placing next to me. She keeps talking to me as she does so, but I can’t see what she’s doing nor do I understand what’s going on. She turns me to the side and I can feel the plastic right next to me. She then flips me back so that I’m sitting on top of it, and then she flips the plastic sheet thing around my crotch so that the whole area is enveloped by it. When I hear the sound of tapes, I finally understand what’s going on. She’s putting me in a diaper. At once, I understand what just happened. She just removed my catheter. I realize that the permanent discomfort that used to inhabit my crotch is now gone, and instead is the weird sensation of wearing a diaper. I find myself filled with contradictory emotions. On one hand, I feel humiliated that I’m wearing a diaper, an object that, until now, was only for babies and elderly people. At the same time, I’m extremely relieved that I’m not forced to endure that catheter anymore and, given my current state, I doubt I’d ever be able to make it to the bathroom, or even just ask to use it. In fact, I’m now realizing I’ve never been out of this bed since waking up. I feel tears of humiliation swell up in my eyes. I wish I was able to communicate to her that I don’t need this diaper, that she could just bring over a bedpan or something when I need to go, but I know trying to communicate anything this complex would be wasted effort. Furthermore, given the terrible degree of control I have over my body, I doubt I’d even be able to prevent my body from just pissing itself. I feel like a complete moron, unable to take care of even the most basic of body functions. The nurse, who’s seeing that I’m still tearing up, tries to soothe me before leaving in her usual peppy voice: “There’s another step behind! Now I’m going to come back to see if you’re able to urinate on your own, and if you do, we’ll be able to start feeding you orally! Isn’t that great?” She’s tapping on her stomach and then points at mine as she talks, and I wonder if this means she’s planning to bring me food. The mere thought of food makes me nauseous, but at the same time, I understand that this would be another step toward gaining some semblance of autonomy over my body functions. I try to moan in a way that signifies my agreement, and the nurse leaves the room, seemly happy with the way things are going. 7
inconkit Posted July 24, 2023 Author Posted July 24, 2023 Chapter 3 : The nightmare From the depths of sleep, I am witness to a strange scene. I’m still in my hospital bed, and see my nurse come over to me holding a plate of veggies. She looks at me and, with a demented smile asks: Who wants some good vegetables! The word is then repeated again and again like an echo. Suddenly, I’m back in one of my swimming competitions at the edge of the pool. I realize everything that happened to me, with the coma, the hospital and all, that was the bad dream, and now I have to get into position because the race is about to start. I get set at the starting line and look at the other girls around me. They’re all looking back at me. I hear the signal for the start of the race and jump in the water, but as soon as my body enters the water, I realize I have no control over any of my movements. I can’t swim anymore! I am underwater, looking back at the surface and I can still see all of the girls at the starting line. None of them have jumped in the water and they’re still looking at me, though my vision is now too blurry to make out any details about their face. I find myself thinking I should have brought my swimming goggles. I can hear the voice of my nurse again, but this time muffled by the water: “Look! It’s a delicious vegetable!” I see my nurse, patting herself on the stomach. I suddenly realize I’ve been underwater for far too long, and I can’t breathe! I need to breathe! I’m starting to panic. I try to swim back to the surface, but my body still refuses to obey my commands. It takes a while for me to realize I no longer am underwater. I try to scream, but I feel like I’m choking and no sound is coming out from me. The machine next to my bed goes crazy as the beeps speed up to high speed, and I can hear an alarm blaring. I can see my nurse, whom for once, doesn’t look cheery at all, frantically working at my side. She’s moving quickly and anxiously, and even through my own panic I notice her injecting something in my solutes. I still feel like my lungs are going to implode. Another woman I’m seeing for the first time runs into the room, screaming instructions. She’s holding what looks like a suitcase, which she opens to reveal rows of clear bottles. My nurse takes one of those bottles, stabs it with the needle of a syringe and then injects it directly into my arm. I feel the stab of the needle, and almost immediately, I can feel my body reacting to it. My throat opens up and I finally succeed at taking a long gasping breath. I then let out a loud scream of pain and terror. My scream turns into sobs, and the sobs slowly get less frantic as the two women attempt to calm me down with soft words. At most, I must have been around 30 seconds without air, but for the first time since I woke up here, I fully realize a terrifying truth: I might die here without having been able to pronounce a single word or even to leave this room. I keep sobbing and my body is shaking in terror. I want my mom to be here. I want her to hold me in her arms, to speak to me in her soft voice. I feel so alone. So incredibly alone. I’m so caught up in my own emotions I barely even notice that my nurse has started her cleaning routine with me. As such, I also barely register when she removes the diaper I’ve been wearing, cleans up my privates and then tapes on a new one. As the woman who came in to help appears to be leaving, my nurse says, with a voice that is clearly shaken by the events and sounds sad, if not pitiful : “Well, at least now we do know she’s able to urinate on her own, so there's that.“ The woman answers with a stern, worried voice : “Keep taking her vitals every 5 minutes, she could get in shock again.” The nurse, who appears to be done with her routine, looks at me with tears in her eyes: “My poor girl, if only you knew how much we want you to make it through.” I fall asleep once again, this time without a single dream. 3 3
inconkit Posted July 26, 2023 Author Posted July 26, 2023 We're getting close to the end of what I've originally written, even though I still have lots of ideas for how to continue this story. We'll see if I have the motivation to keep going after that, but I do want to thank you all for reading and reacting to my story! It means a lot to me! Chapter 4 : Rehabilitation A female voice I’m hearing for the first time wakes me up: “Miss Filion? Miss Filion? Ah I’m so happy you’re awake! My name is Soraya and I’ll be your occupational therapist!” I open my eyes and realize the owner of that voice is a woman around my mom’s age with very dark skin and a soft face. I find myself immediately trusting her without being quite sure why. Next to her is the tall, intimidating nurse I’ve somewhat become used to, by now. I know why this one is here. “Anita, you’re gonna get her ready for me?”, the newcomer asks my nurse. I’m not sure what she said, but the nurse’s reaction makes it pretty obvious. She gets close to me with wipes and a fresh diaper. By now, I’m starting to accept I have no control over my body, including my ability to hold my pee. After my nightmare and the whole crisis that followed, I think the entire staff here has decided to give me a few days (or at least what I think is a few days) to rest and get used to my new situation before introducing anything new. The regular diaper changes and the clean ups that come with them still feel infantilizing and humiliating at this point, but I prefer those over the painful alternative. I can usually feel when my diaper is wet and I find the sensation rather unpleasant. I can sometimes get the hint of a sensation right before my bladder goes and I start uncontrollably wetting myself, but usually it just takes me by complete surprise and it’s not like I can do anything to stop it anyway. After changing my “brief”, Anita proceeds to washing the rest of my body as well as applying creams to the sores on my back. I think these sores are there because I’m spending too much time lying down. Soraya, the soft spoken woman, then comes back into the room that she had left, seemingly in a bid to leave me some privacy. I’m thankful to her for that. Ever since I woke up here, I feel like people keep seeing me naked and vulnerable, and it’s definitely not something I enjoy. “Ok, so today is gonna be a big day for you, because we’re gonna try to sit up together a little bit. Dr. Brodeur and Mrs. Graton have been telling me that you were very responsive, which is gonna help us a lot. I also heard from them that you have the prettiest smile on earth! Look at yourself, they were actually right!” I don’t know what she’s saying, but her tone of voice is so soothing and familiar that I can’t help but smile. Her energy somehow reminds me a lot of my mom. When she sees my smile, her face lights up even more and I realize that I trust her entirely. She sits down next to me. She speaks very softly to me, seemingly explaining what she’s going to do. Because of the exaggerated movements she’s using at the same time as she’s talking, I think I can grasp that she’s about to move my legs. Anita, the tall nurse with the stern face, goes near my head and puts her hands on my back. I feel a moment of worry not knowing what’s about to happen, but I feel like I can trust the soft spoken woman who’s obviously in charge of this moment. Without being sure how they did it, I feel my frail body being maneuvered into a hunched over sitting position. Almost immediately, I start feeling extremely dizzy. My body rests on Anita’s strong arms as I look at Soraya with fearful eyes. I can’t hold my own head, so it’s resting against Anita’s shoulder. Soraya seems to be speaking words of encouragement. To me it feels like I’m both about to pass out or throw up (despite still not having had any kind of food inside of me). They keep me in that position for a time that seems to stretch way longer than it probably is, until they finally let me go back to lying down in my usual partially curled up position. While still looking at me with her bright eyes, Soraya tries to explain to me: “We’re gonna have to keep sitting you up like this for a while before we can start feeding you orally again. We know eating is difficult for you, so we’re really gonna give it our best to make it work. I’m going to be coming back here with you regularly and who knows, maybe you’ll even get to have a short trip on the wheelchair!” I have no idea what she’s saying, and honestly I’m so exhausted by the work we just did that I mostly just feel like falling back asleep immediately. I still make an attempt to smile at her because I want her to know that I really enjoy her presence. As difficult as this exercise was, I really like her, and I can’t wait for her to come back. I fall asleep feeling satisfied. In the following days, I feel a little bit more aware than usual, even though my mind still feels blurry most of the time, as my vision is. My days are punctuated by waking up, getting a diaper changed, being cleaned up, getting “stimulation” visits and, of course, visits by Soraya, who has repeated the sitting up exercise a couple times with me. Unlike the peppy nurse (whom I know to be called Marie-Claude after seeing so often), Soraya has a much more authentic energy, and, most of all, an incredible softness. I feel like giving my best for her, despite not having much to do aside from letting her manipulate my tiny body. Despite this, I still try my best to show her that I’m progressing in some ways. While she’s holding me up, I try as best as I can to also hold my own body, as futile as it usually is. Despite the futility of it, I do feel like my body is slowly getting used to being in a sitting position. I also get to see my mom regularly, since she’s always been very present since my day one of being awake. Her presence always feels magical to me, and it always breaks my heart a little bit when she has to leave. I wish I could tell her how much I like Soraya, and tell her about the progress I’m working so hard to achieve. Instead all I can do is babble and moan like a baby as she speaks to me in words I mostly can’t understand. I wish she would meet Soraya, and see me when she’s working with me. I wish she could see that I’m making progress, however tiny it is. 6
inconkit Posted July 28, 2023 Author Posted July 28, 2023 This was the last chapter I originally had, which means I'm done with translation! This means that from now on, anything else I post here is gonna be brand new content. Thank you for coming along for the ride with me! I hope you guys are enjoying this story! Chapter 5: Taking a stroll My wish ends up being fulfilled a few days later. At first I see my mom entering the room with a large wheelchair. It’s the type of wheelchair that went up very high with head support and straps all over. I am guessing it’s for me and I can feel my anxiety rising. Sitting on my bed with Soraya or Anita holding me is one thing, but getting out of the bed to get strapped in a wheelchair is something else entirely. After my mom, Soraya also enters the room. Marie-Claude, who was already in the room after finishing my changing and cleaning routine, exclaims: “Hey! You’re right on time, I literally just prepped our beautiful Léa to see you guys!” My mom and Soraya answer enthusiastically while looking at me. Marie-Claude winks at me and leaves the room. Soraya begins sitting me up on the bed while talking to my mom the whole time. I think she’s explaining to her how to do it herself. I see that my mom is listening carefully, but I feel like I can also see that she’s happy about my progress, which makes me really proud. At the very least, I am proud of myself. Over the last couple days, I’ve progressed to the point that I can stay sitting with less support than before. It’s even been to the point that Soraya is now able to sit me up without the help of a nurse. Soraya looks at me and starts talking: “Today is a big day, sweety! Your mama has brought you a wheelchair and we’ll be able to use it to sit in there and maybe even go for a small walk if all goes well!” As she’s talking, my mom approaches with the wheelchair and I understand that they’re going to transfer me onto it. I feel my heart beating very fast, which makes me happy I’m no longer connected to the beeping machine anymore. Moreover, I feel stronger than I ever have since waking up here initially, and I want to pass this challenge for my mom and for Soraya. I notice that there's an absorbant pad on the seat of the wheelchair, which makes me blush a little when I realize why. My gentle physical therapist then shifts her position and tells my mom: “Since she’s really tiny, you probably won’t need a lift to get her out of bed, but it’s still very important that you use the right method to make sure you don’t drop her or that you don’t hurt yourself. So first, you want to slip your arm under hers like this.” I can feel her getting her arm under my shoulder like she’s about to hug me. I reflexively try to hold back onto her, though I don’t really have the strength to do so in any meaningful way. “Oh that’s perfect” Soraya exclaims. “You see how she already has the reflex of trying to hold on to me? That’s gonna be very helpful for you. So after getting your first arm in place, you want to slip your other arm under her bum… Léa, I’m gonna grab you from underneath, ok?” I jump a little bit in surprise when she slides her arm under me. I’m aware her hand is now directly on my diaper since the hospital gown I’m wearing isn’t enough to cover my backside. I feel myself getting red. I am suddenly very grateful that my diaper has been changed right before this. Soraya keeps going: “Now, what’s really important is that you use the strength of your legs to lift her, keep your back straight, and then in one movement, you lift her and put her down on the chair.” In one expertly executed maneuver, I find myself lifted up and then sitting on the wheelchair. “Now another thing that is really important is that you always strap her up properly, otherwise she could fall and hurt herself”. Soraya is adjusting the straps and putting them around me as she speaks. I realize that my hunched over position means I can’t sit straight against the wheelchair at first. Because of that, Soraya has to adjust the back and the straps so that she can get my head to be aligned with the headrest, before strapping my head to it as well. By the end of the process, I end up sitting up in a moderately reclined position with my body slightly twisted to fit into the wheelchair. My solutes is still attached to my arm, and the tube dangles next to the wheelchair. Once I’m securely installed in my wheelchair, my mom asks in an enthusiastic tone: “Now, do you want to go outside your bedroom, baby girl?” I feel a shiver go through me. I didn’t understand every word she said, but there is one I did get: Outside. I don’t know how long I’ve been in this room, but the thought of leaving it is both terrifying and very exciting. I feel a wave of adrenaline go through my body and feel like I’m about to conquer the world. With my mom and Soraya at my side, surely I can do anything. For the first time since waking up here, I feel actual hope that things are going to get better. I’m still terribly weak, I still can’t communicate and I’m still entirely dependant on others for even the most basic of my needs, but from now on, I’ll no longer be chained to a bed. I try vocalizing my excitement, and end up on a long joyful scream of happiness. The walk turns out to be short, but rich in sensations. The hallway outside my bedroom is clean and somewhat empty. I see many closed doors, but a few are open and I see the shape of people in there. One familiar shape emerges from one of the rooms and close the door behind her. Marie-Claude, my trusty peppy nurse appears to reach a climax of pure excitement as she sees me in the wheelchair. She lowers herself to my level and showers me with words of ravishment. I usually find her enthusiasm a bit overwhelming, but in my current state of weird confidence, I answer with another scream of joy, which seems to delight her even more. I can’t see my mom, with her at the helm of my wheelchair, but I can hear her voice answering with pride and emotion. I can’t even imagine how long she had been hoping for a moment like this. The peak of this little stroll however, was still to come. After going next to many bedrooms and one large room that look like a mess hall, I suddenly find myself bathed in natural light. At the end of the hallway is a large living room with a huge television screen, couches and most of all, huge windows that let in natural light as well as the scenery of a large wooded area covered in snow. My own bedroom has a small window that never quite let in much light from the outside. Furthermore, down from my bed, all I can see is a piece of the roof that overhangs my room. Because of that, I really had no way to anticipate the view I got at that moment. My blurry vision doesn’t quite allow me to make out the details of the stunning view, but I still find myself swallowed whole by those large windows. I can’t believe I haven’t been out in so long. The reflection of the sun on the white snow hurts my eyes, but I can’t take my eyes off of the scenery. A single thought inhabits my mind. I have to get better so I can leave this place. I suddenly feel a rush of dizziness as I contemplate the immensity of what that would imply. In the tiny, limited universe that was my bedroom, I had almost managed to make myself believe that I had regained some semblance of normalcy, but faced with this gigantic world, filled with people, places and challenges, I can’t help but feel infinitely small and vulnerable. I realize that it’s very likely I’m never going to be able to do any of the things I used to be able to do before being in this state. Heck I can’t even remember most of what I was actually doing back then because my memory is completely fried. I’m suddenly taken by a flash in my head. I see myself skiing on a snowy hill with my dad. This memory is so crisp to me it almost feels supernatural, like some sort of revelation. I’m suddenly filled with a huge wave of sorrow for what I’ve lost. I can see the snow again, but I sure as heck will never be skiing on it ever again. This is too much for me. I can’t take the sight anymore. My body starts shaking as my vision is graying out. People around me are noticing and I can hear them speaking in worried tones. I can feel my mom stroking my hair, kissing my face and saying sweet words. But I’m fast sinking back to oblivion, and I feel like I’d rather stay in the depths for a while. In the safe darkness, and away from that terrifying light. 4 2
Quite-Tiff Posted July 28, 2023 Posted July 28, 2023 I'm really enjoying the story, can't wait to read more. 1
inconkit Posted July 29, 2023 Author Posted July 29, 2023 On 7/28/2023 at 9:13 AM, keith60 said: this story is good 17 hours ago, Quite-Tiff said: I'm really enjoying the story, can't wait to read more. Thank you so much for your feedback and support! This really means a lot to me! Next chapter is coming very soon, I'm pretty much done with it. I'm glad I found the motivation to keep writing this story after years of it being on ice. 1
inconkit Posted July 29, 2023 Author Posted July 29, 2023 There's a brand new chapter, after years of letting this story sleeping! Chapter 6: Back to Dreamland I am in the darkness. I can’t see anything. I can barely even feel myself, it’s like I’m floating in an ocean of void. From there, I can hear a voice, distant and echoing. I recognize it as my mother’s voice. She sounds upset. Very upset. She’s screaming. “She’s our daughter Gérard! We can’t abandon her, what are you even talking about? I’m appalled you’d even suggest it!”. I feel a chill go through my body. I hear my dad’s voice answering. His voice is booming and terrible. “This… is not our daughter. It might have been our daughter one day, but our daughter is dead!” The word dead hits me like a knife in the chest. What… are they talking about? Dead? Am I dead? What is going on? My dad continues, his screaming voice just as powerful and terrifying. “She died in that fucking pool Julia! You have to get that in your head! Léa is no more! You’ve been tending to this… to this vegetable for months now! What good is that doing you? That’s all you’ve been doing! You don’t work anymore! You don’t cook anymore! You don’t even take care of Mathieu… Do you know how hard it’s been for him?” This time I can hear my dad’s voice choking on sobs. “Julia, you have a family to care for and all you do is take care of this… thing that just eats and crap without giving us anything back in return!” The chill that had filled me has now turned to ice. A vegetable? What is even going on? Why are they talking about me this way? I feel myself filled with complete horror as the argument keeps going. I can hear my mom’s voice, distorted with a rage I’ve never heard in her. “Take… that… back… Gérard. You don’t mean that, you can’t possibly mean that. She is our daughter. Don’t you ever talk about our daughter that way you… monster.” My dad answers, his voice still roaring in my ears. “Oh I’m a monster now? I’m a monster for taking care of every fucking meal because you won’t do it? I’m a monster for being the sole breadwinner of this house? I’m a monster for taking Mathieu to practice? I’m a monster for telling him that his mom won’t be there because she has to stay home to watch the vegetable that used to be his sister? I’m a monster for telling him that we still care about him even though he’s now second place to… this? He’s ten Julia, do you think he can understand why his mom is abandoning him that way? Where were you when he scored his first goal last Saturday? He lost his big sister, for fuck’s sake, and now he’s lost his mom too! Julia, I’m not asking you to kill her, I’m asking you to bring her to a center where they’ll take care of her!” My mom then throws an agonized scream that tears my heart to pieces. “I… I can’t, Gérard. I can’t! She’s my daughter! She’s my precious baby girl… I can’t… I can’t let her go!” She’s sobbing so hard her voice is difficult to hear. For a little while, all I can hear are my mom’s sobs. When I hear my dad’s voice again, he sounds much calmer, though the sadness that pierces through it might be even worse in some ways. “Julia, I know it’s been hard for you. But this center isn’t the end. You’ve heard the doctors. Léa is not going to wake up, so we have to think about the future. Our future. You have to take care of yourself, to take care of your own family.” My mom’s voice has also calmed down when she speaks. “A part of me knows that you’re right. I know it’s not reasonable for me to take care of her 24/7 like I do but… but whenever I think about letting her go, all I can imagine is… What if she dies? What if my baby girl dies and she’s… and she’s all alone? What if she dies and her mama isn’t there?” She starts sobbing again. My dad sighs very hard and answers her after letting her sob for a time: “She’ll be in a nice place, Julia. I’ve spoken with Mrs Gratton, the owner, and her place is solid. She’s a doctor herself, and has been doing this for decades. It’s small, they have something like fifteen beds at most and their staff is there 24/7. I’ve seen the place. It's clean and warm and welcoming. Léa would be well taken care of. And they’re willing to keep her until she… To keep her as long as she needs it. It’s expensive, but you know money isn’t an issue for me. Please, Julia, would you at least visit the place with me? You deserve better than a life of changing dirty diapers and cleaning up feeding tubes, and your family needs you.” A long silence follows. My mom’s voice sounds defeated when she speaks: “I’ll… I’ll think about it. For Mathieu. I know I haven’t been a good mom to him since Léa’s accident. I… I’m sorry, Gérard. I know I’m not rational about this. I know she won’t wake up, I just… I just want to be there for her, do you understand? I’m still her mother. It still means a lot to me.” My dad’s voice sounds hopeful as he answers: “You’ll still be her mother. You can visit as much as you want. It’s only a 30 minutes drive from here. And then you can have real moments with her, and leave all the chores to the staff.” After some silence, my mom answers once again: “I’ll think about it. That’s all I can promise you.” My dad’s voice echoes in the void I’m floating in as he answers: “That’s all I’m asking you right now.” As the last echoes of my dad’s voice, I feel void I’m in starting to swirl. I feel myself spinning around as I’m floating upward, away from the void and away from that terrifying conversation I just heard. I slowly become aware that I am in my bed, and that this was a dream. Even now it’s starting to fade, but I have a feeling this was more than just a dream. This felt like a memory, like something that really happened. I remember the saying that people in a coma can hear what you’re saying. It would seem that in that moment, I was aware somehow, as they were discussing my fate. My father’s terrible words still ring in my mind. A vegetable. Already dead. Never waking up. I suppose he wasn’t quite wrong. It is very unlikely to wake up from a coma. My situation is very unusual. I’m reminded of how awkward my dad was when he first saw me. He thought I was dead, and now here I am. Not quite myself, mind you, actually a whole lot less than whatever I might have been, and will very likely never be all that much better. But still me, looking back at him when he must have thought it would never happen again. As the specifics of the dream fade away, I think of their discussion about Mathieu. My poor brother. I’ve seen my dad a few times since waking up, but Mathieu never came back. And I guess I can understand why. My reaction must have been traumatizing to him. Have I really been gone this long? I feel tears in my eyes as I think about all the time that has been taken away from me. I feel lost, and sad. My bedroom is darkened, it must still be nighttime. I fall back asleep wishing my mom was with me. My sweet mama who fought so hard to be by my side. 3 1
inconkit Posted August 4, 2023 Author Posted August 4, 2023 Chapter 7 : Another big step I wake up that morning without much of any recollection of my nightmare. I still have general bad vibes from it, and I think I also remember being angry at my dad for some reason. Any thoughts about my dream are swiped away when I realize that the reason I woke up is that my Marie-Claude, my cheerful, chatty nurse, is currently in the middle of changing my night’s diaper. As usual, it is soaked, and as usual, I didn’t notice it happening in any way. After a few days, if not weeks (time is a little blurry for me and it’s hard for me to tell) of being in diapers all the time, I’m starting to get used to what it means. Whenever a nurse comes into the room, I’m entitled to a diaper check. If I’ve been awake for a while, I sometimes know that I’ve wet it previously, having felt it happen, but since I spend a lot of time sleeping, the state of my diaper is usually a bit of a mystery. With all that said, one thing that being in diapers has highlighted even more is the fact that I haven’t had a single bowel movement since waking up. Not that I want it to happen, but it does feel pretty unusual. With that said, it does make a lot of sense considering I also haven’t had any kind of food or even water orally. I’m supposing all my water and nutrients are coming from the solute bag that permanently accompanies me, but I didn’t know this was possible until I experienced it. I do think I remember Marie-Claude saying something about eating a while ago, but I don’t really trust my broken brain to actually remember anything with any kind of certitude, especially considering that I can’t understand most of what everyone around me is saying. As Marie-Claude finishes taping the fresh diaper around my crotch, chatting away the whole time, I can see Soraya entering the room. As usual, seeing Soraya fills me with warm feelings. Since my first time in the wheelchair, Soraya has been getting me into it a few times more. It is still an overwhelming experience when she does, but at least I can now manage without fainting. Usually, we only go for a short ride around the center and I’m immediately brought back to my bedroom. Unsurprisingly, they do avoid the living room, which makes sense considering the sensory overload this was for me last time I was there. With that in mind, it wasn’t any surprise for me when Soraya started manipulating my tiny frame to get me into my wheelchair. What was unusual is what happened after I got strapped in it. After getting the last strap in place, Soraya looked at me and pointed at her mouth while saying “How about we try hydrating you orally, today?”. Despite being unable to understand the words she said, the gesture she made at her mouth makes it obvious: She wants to make me drink today. Soraya keeps talking, presumably explaining to me what she’s going to do: “Since you have been having such a huge reaction to feeding tubes while you were in your coma, we’re gonna have to go directly from solutes to oral hydration. We’re gonna have to be very careful, but you can’t stay chronically dehydrated the way you’ve been, especially now that you’ve started being more active. But don’t you worry, we’ll start you easy and I’ll be there every step of the way.” I often wonder why everyone bothers saying so much stuff to me when it seems obvious I can’t understand most of it. The way they change their tone of voice to make it more singsongy whenever they’re talking to me makes it obvious that they intend the words for me, but it doesn’t seem like they’re making any special effort for me to understand them. I suppose it’s not dissimilar to the way people talk to their dogs or infants. They know I don’t understand, but they still enjoy talking to me. And maybe they see it as a way to keep me stimulated or something? I know I do appreciate the talking, if only to make me feel less alone. I might not get the meaning of most words, but I do get the tone of it, and it’s a bit reassuring to know they care enough to talk to me this way. I sometimes feel like their tone sounds a little bit too close to baby talk, which is somewhat humiliating, but considering that I’m pretty much reduced to a drooling infant anyway, it makes sense that this is how they’d communicate with me. Some, like my chatty nurse Marie-Claude, lean very heavily towards the “baby talk” while others, like Dr. Brodeur, almost never use it. Among everyone however, Soraya seems to strike the perfect balance of speaking in a soothing way that doesn’t make me feel too infantilized. In fact, her voice fills me with a nervous confidence and a desire to make her proud. She’s now looking directly at me, and she sounds serious. “Now your throat and stomach have been empty for weeks. Normally, you never should have been on solutes as long as you were, but we didn’t know you were gonna wake up. Today we’re gonna feed you thickened water. It’s literally just water with a bit of jelly in it to make it easier to swallow. We don’t know yet if you’re able to swallow, but we’re gonna try, because unless you start feeding orally by yourself, we are gonna have to get the feeding tubes out to prevent your digestive tract from atrophying any more than it likely already has. Now you don’t remember it, but your body really dislikes feeding tubes. So we’ll do all we can to avoid it, ok?” There isn’t much I can understand in there except that they’re going to feed me water, and that it seems to be a really big deal. I start feeling nervous. I see Marie-Claude enter the room with a tray that has a glass of what looks to be water on it. I also notice a piece of cloth folded next to the glass. After bringing the tray next to my wheelchair, my cheerful nurse takes the piece of cloth and unfolds it. It's a weirdly shaped, pink sheet with plastic backing and, seeing the shape, I finally realize that this is a bib. She starts wrapping it around my shoulders and fastens it behind my neck. Why I’d need a bip to drink water is beyond me, but I feel like there is much I don’t quite yet understand about the situation. She then takes the tray and slides it on the arms of my wheelchair, which seems designed to be able to take it. And just like that, my wheelchair has basically been converted to a high chair. With the tray so close to me, I can see that next to the glass of water is a straw and a spoon. First, Soraya takes the straw and dunks it in the glass. She then says: “I have little hopes that this will work, but if you are able to drink from a straw this will definitely make things much easier in the future. Now I’m gonna bring the straw to your lips, and I want you to try drinking from it!” As she’s talking, she brings the straw close to my lips and mimes sucking from it. I know what she wants me to do, so I try to do it. The first challenge is to close my mouth around the straw. Ever since I woke up, my mouth has been stuck in a semi open position from which I’ve been drooling ever since. With a lot of effort, I think I’m somewhat able to close my mouth around the straw, though it doesn’t feel very secure and I doubt I could hold that position for long. I then try to suck from the straw, but I realize that my mouth just doesn’t seem to have the strength nor coordination to do it. I can feel that I’m moving my tongue and I do when swallowing my saliva, and I’m trying my best to use it to suck water up the straw, but it’s just not possible, and no water makes it to the tip of the straw. Frustrated, I spit the straw out of my mouth and let out a scream. Why is this so hard? Why can’t I even drink water? I get agitated as frustration is filling me. Why me? Why can’t I be normal? I’m barely aware of the world around me, or of the fact that I’ve started bawling and kicking my legs and arms as much as my feeble muscles would allow them. I feel so angry and powerless I can’t help myself. After a few moments I regain a bit of my consciousness of the world around me and I notice that Soraya is gently stroking my hair while trying to soothe me. She seems completely calm. Her words do succeed at making me calm down. “It’s ok Léa, it’s ok, it’s alright. I know this is frustrating to you, I know my poor dear. You’re gonna be ok. We’re gonna try another way, ok? I thought this might not work and I got us a plan B.” At this point I’ve finally managed to get my emotions back under some semblance of control and I’m just listening to her voice. I see Soraya pick up a spoon from the tray in front of me and realize the straw wasn’t the only method they had thought of to feed me. Spoon feeding water to someone sounds like an awfully tedious chore, but it might actually be better than unsuccessfully trying to feed off of the damn straw. Soraya picks up the spoon and dips it in the glass. The spoon is covered in brightly colored silicon, and seems to be deep enough to contain a fair bit of water. Despite the blurriness of my vision, it seems like the water behaves in a strange way as she dips the spoon in it. The way it’s moving, it almost looks like it’s viscous, like a sort of watery pudding. Now that I look at it better, it also has a very whitish hue. Is this even water? I’m pretty sure I heard her say water, so why doesn’t it look like water? I’m now doubting that I’ve actually heard right, which I suppose wouldn’t be so surprising given my stupid brain. As she approaches my mouth with the spoon, I wonder what the heck is in there. It’s definitely nothing I’ve ever seen before. When the spoon reaches my mouth, she lightly taps it on the side of my lips, coaxing them into opening. I’m still insecure about whatever is in there, but I know I completely trust Soraya, and know she wouldn’t feed me anything dangerous, so I accept the spoonful of stuff in my mouth. The texture and taste surprise me, and I reflexively spit it out, which makes it drip down onto my bib and prompts Soraya to laugh. It wasn’t exactly bad, but my brain really doesn’t know what this was. It was mostly tasteless aside from a very subtle sweetness to it. The texture was definitely the weirdest aspect to it, however. It was like having oatmeal, but without any of the oat in it, with nothing but the starchy thick water left. I wonder what it is, but feel bad for spitting it out. Soraya, however, doesn’t seem phased out in the least by it, and already has another spoon ready. This time I’m ready for it, and I brace myself for the weird taste as she brings the spoon to my mouth. As with the straw, I feel like all the movements to properly swallow the spoonful of weird water are there, but sluggish and uncoordinated. Even with the very small quantity contained in the spoon, it feels like too much and most of it dribbles out of my mouth and onto my bib before I can finish swallowing. The tiny quantity I end up swallowing ends up being barely more than I would swallow with my saliva. However, my mouth does feel moister than it has in a while, and I feel like I’m progressing, especially given Soraya’s cheering. The taste is still a bit off putting, but I’m ready when Soraya arrives with a third spoonful. This time, things line up much better, and I must have been able to swallow about half of the content of the spoon, with the rest dribbling down to my bib like the previous ones. Soraya almost seems ecstatic about my progress, and I can’t help but feel proud of it. It feels like another step, however tiny it may be, towards gaining back some semblance of autonomy. Soraya keeps feeding me spoonful after spoonful. Most of the thickened water still ends up on my bib, but I can feel my mouth and throat moisten from the liquid, and it makes me realize how dry they’ve been this whole time. After a few spoonfuls, my stomach starts feeling full, which I realize I haven’t felt once since waking up from my coma. At first I find the sensation interesting, but soon I realize my stomach is not taking it. I feel a wave of nausea hit me, and just as Soraya is about to bring another spoon to my mouth, I have one hiccup which is quickly followed by what was very likely everything I’ve just ingested. The whole thing, now mixed in with saliva and stomach acids has joined the rest of my spills on my bib and tray. Soraya quickly starts saying reassuring words, probably assuming me to go on another tantrum. However, I’m feeling too messed up to have a tantrum. I feel myself slump in my chair, and, as is now usual for me, lose consciousness once again. As the lights go off, however, I feel something of a subtle pride. Sure I did puke everything out, but I did manage to drink a few spoonful of whatever that stuff was before that. I did it. Maybe I can do this. Maybe I’ll be fine. 5
inconkit Posted August 11, 2023 Author Posted August 11, 2023 Here's a short chapter for you guys. I hope you guys enjoy it! Thank you again for reading and reacting, it means a lot to me and keeps me motivated. Chapter 8: Settling in The following days were pretty much routine. As weird as my situation was, I was getting into the routine of sleeping, waking up to a diaper change and clean up, having my frail body stretched and moved, and now was added the new element of being strapped in my wheelchair turned high chair with a bib on to ingest thickened water. At first, my stomach was unable to take more than a few spoonfuls of the stuff before throwing up, so it seemed like Soraya was aiming to start with very little of it and progressively get to more. And after a few days, it did become more. Of course, most of it still did end up on the bib because of my horrible muscle coordination, but what I did manage to successfully ingest became more and more, and I was able to do that without fainting, though I did puke again a few more times. I was also noticing the effect of having better hydration. The more water they got into me, the longer it felt I was able to stay awake before falling back asleep again. Of course, it also showed in my diaper, which I noticed now had to be changed more often than before. I suspect it still isn’t enough for them to remove my saline, however. The plastic bag is still permanently attached to my arm with a tube, without any sign of being removed. There’s also the issue of the water stuff they’ve been feeding me, which doesn't look like it has any nutritional value to it. It makes me wonder if I’ll ever eat again, though once again I seem to remember my nurse saying I would. I suppose my stomach is still too fragile to handle any kind of food yet. With that said, at this point in time, I do notice that my tolerance for water has gotten better. It takes a very long time to feed it to me, which makes me wonder if they’ll ever find a more efficient method than just spooning everything into my mouth like an infant eating gruel. The thought crosses my mind that since I’m already infantilized as much as I am, they might as well get the baby analogy all the way and try feeding me from a baby bottle. The thought makes me chuckle a bit. I’m still feeling a bit weird about the whole infantilizing thing that comes with my condition. On one hand, I’m really grateful to be alive, and I know everybody is taking great care of me, given my circumstances. I also do have moments of real levity, especially when my mom visits or when I’m around Soraya. On the other hand, despite my extremely blurry memory, I do still get flashes of my old life from time to time. In those moments, when I vaguely remember going out with friends and family, going to school, walking to the bus stop… In those moments I feel pangs of deep sadness. My current situation has made my life so small in comparison, reducing it to one room, a few people and a rigid routine of basically being treated like a baby. In those moments I miss my past autonomy very deeply, and sometimes even wonder if waking up was even worth it if it means being stuck that way. Having those thoughts can sometimes send me into a bit of a frenzy, and I often end up breaking into bawling, which always gets someone to show up to try to calm me down. Those tantrums of mine often make me wonder if there might be something wrong in my brain with emotional control. Considering how broken the rest of my brain is, that wouldn’t be very surprising. There’s also all the constant aches and pains, which are just a fact of my life now. My crooked back especially seems to be taking very poorly to moving again after what must have been years of near complete immobility. My body is also covered in bed sores, which are slowly getting better as I’m moving towards a more active lifestyle, but which still hurts a lot. Worst of all, however, are the headaches. Those can happen seemingly at random, and feel like someone is drilling in my brain with a power tool, and they are often the sign that I’m about to have another one of my all too common seizures. If the emotional pain of my lost life makes me wonder about the purpose of being awake, the physical pain of those headaches definitely make the idea of staying down in the darkness even more enticing. The only real levity through all of this really is the warmth of the people around me. As much as it can sometimes make me feel silly, I really do appreciate how everyone makes such an effort at being nice to me. While my poor emotional control sometimes makes me lash out into tantrums when I get frustrated, and their efforts to calm me down with cooing noises and soft words can aggravate me even more rather than reduce my anger, I still do feel very grateful for their presence in my life. Be it my peppy nurse Marie-Claude, my mom or Soraya, they have become my whole life, and I know I owe my very survival to them. I do literally trust them with my life, and this brings about a level of gratefulness I don’t remember ever having felt in my entire life. This bedroom and institution now feel like my entire universe, and I do wonder if I’ll ever even feel ready to go out in the real world. I try to avoid thinking of the great white expense I glimpsed from the living room window, which I have returned to a few times now, but always avoid looking at because of how terrifying it seems. I also try to avoid thinking about my brother, who reminds me how long I’ve been out. This often leads me to think about my friends, whom I can barely even remember. How would I react to seeing them? How have they changed? It feels a bit weird that none of them have visited yet, when I’ve now been awake for at least a few weeks now, though I feel thankful for it, thinking about my reaction to seeing my brother’s face. For now, I think I really do prefer for my world to stay small. It feels safer that way, and closer to the darkness that I’ve lived in for the past years. 6
Hugo Posted January 4, 2024 Posted January 4, 2024 Hi! Any chance, that you would continue this story? It would be great tho know, how the protagonist's life continues to evolve. 1
inconkit Posted January 4, 2024 Author Posted January 4, 2024 3 hours ago, Hugo said: Hi! Any chance, that you would continue this story? It would be great tho know, how the protagonist's life continues to evolve. Thank you for your comment! I have to admit I've allowed the writing of that story to fall by the wayside, but I haven't forgotten about it and a new chapter might be coming up soon! These kind of comments sure help with my motivation! ^^ 1
inconkit Posted September 5, 2024 Author Posted September 5, 2024 I'm sorry for the long time without any post! I'm hoping you'll enjoy this chapter! Chapter 9: Food I’m feeling nervous this morning for some reason. As soon as I see my nurse Marie-Claude in my bedroom for her usual routine, I get the feeling that something will be different once again today. As she starts changing me, she chats on: “Today’s a big day for you, Léa! It seems your stomach has tolerated thickened water enough that we’re ready to try you out on actual food! Isn’t that amazing? I hope you’re hungry!” I’m not sure what exactly she’s babbling about, but it seems to me that she’s talking about food. I happen to have been thinking a lot about food, or more accurately about the mysterious lack of food in my life. I understand that it must have something to do with my stomach, considering that I’m now barely starting to tolerate water again, but I wonder why it is that I couldn’t be eating in the first place. Maybe it has something to do with the coma I was in? To be fair, I really don’t know anything about comas, or if I did know anything of any substance, it’s ironically been completely erased by my brain when I got into one. Whatever she was saying about food, I didn’t understand what it was, and it wasn’t the first time she was talking about it either, so I decided not to pay any more attention to it. As Marie-Claude finishes taping the fresh diaper she had been putting on me, I see Soraya enter the room, greeting me gleefully. As usual, the sight of her smiling face through my blurry vision fills me with a mixture of excitement and warmth. Marie-Claude leaves the room while Soraya starts what is now becoming a routine for me: Sitting me down on my bed, lifting me up and then lowering me back on my wheelchair, before strapping my contorted body into it. At this time of the day, I know that what usually follows is a session of hydration where I get spoon fed some of their weird water. Over the past couple days, I’ve noticed that my stomach had become better and better at holding the water, which meant they had been able to feed me even more of it, to the point that we had multiple sessions of it every day. Since it didn’t seem like Soraya was available all day to be with me, Marie-Claude and my other tall, intimidating nurse have started doing the same with me too. However, I always feel better when Soraya is the one doing it. Once, she even surprised me and had my mom come in and do it with her, to my greatest delight. Today however, it seemed that she was alone doing it, and I saw Marie-Claude quickly coming back with my tray, which would usually have the water container. However, today, as I’m watching Marie-Claude come back in the room with her tray, I notice that something is different. Instead of the usual transparent water container, I can see that the tray only has a bowl on it. As Marie-Claude puts the bib on me, I try to see what it contains, but with her in the way, that’s a hard thing to do. When she’s finally done, she leaves the room again, leaving me alone with Soraya. My therapist takes a deep breath and puts on a serious face, looking at me. “Alright sweety, let’s do this. Today is a very special day!” She wheels the cart closer and I can finally see that the bowl is filled with a weird pink coloured liquid. More than just seeing, however, I can also smell the sugary smell emanating from it. That sweet, vaguely strawberry smell seems to awaken something in my stomach, something deep and primal. This stuff, whatever it is, is food. I can smell it. My stomach, suddenly aware that it’s about to receive more than just water, starts growling in ways I’ve never heard before. My mouth also starts salivating and my usual drooling turns into a river. Soraya's face, upon hearing the noises from my stomach and noticing my drool from my mouth, suddenly lights up and she lets out a giggle. “Oh Léa! Looks like you’re hungry aren’t you? It’s been a long time hasn’t it?” The fact that she was speaking was completely lost on me. My entire attention and physical body was drawn towards that bowl of sweet smelling stuff. Not a single thought was going through me. The only thing I can perceive is that white plastic bowl and its content, as well as one single body sensation: Hunger. For the first time, I realize how hungry I’ve been since waking up. In fact, I feel ravenous. Without realizing it I start leaning towards the bowl, weakly rising my arms towards it and letting out long excited whimpers. I want that. I want the food. I want it. I’ve never wanted anything with such a strong desire in my entire life. My whimpers quickly turn to screams as Soraya attempts to calm me. My inability to reach the food fills me with anger. “Léa! Léa you have to calm down! We have to do this slowly!” Her words have no effect on me and my agitation and screaming stays just as intense. Realizing there is no point in trying to calm me this way, she decides to pick up the spoon next to the bowl and attempt to feed me as a way of calming me down. The process is basically exactly the same as the one used to feed me thickened water. Seeing the spoon plunging into the bowl, my agitation reaches its paroxysm, and I start thrashing and flailing trying to reach that spoon, letting out even bigger screams. My arms and body being as weak as they are, there is very little I can do to reach it, which fills me with a seething frustration. I need that food. There’s a black hole inside of me and if I can’t have this spoonful right now, it’s going to swallow me whole instead. Why can’t I have it NOW? In the confusion, and despite the pathetic strength of my arms, I end up knocking the spoon off of Soraya’s hand. I can hear it clatter on the ground, and that sound, paired with the disappearance of the spoon from my field of vision fills me with dread. Will I ever be able to eat? Heavy tears well into my eyes as my screams turn to long sobs. Rather than picking up the spoon immediately, Soraya, seeing my distress, decides to lean in and hug me. “Léa, you poor thing you’ve been starving haven’t you?” I can feel her warmth enveloping me, and my thrashing slowly dies down as I lay crying in her arms for what seems like an eternity. My sobs become whimpers again, and I manage to feel somewhat calm again. The hunger is still strong inside of me, but I’m finally able to have some semblance of rational thoughts again. As usual after one of my tantrums, a deep sense of shame overcomes me. It’s like I get possessed by this tempestuous child that lies deep within me. I realize that because of my behavior, I can’t even have the food I wanted so much. I promise myself I’ll try to exercise more self control, which actually feels achievable right now as I lay against Soraya’s body, her strong arms holding me tight and filling that black hole within me with a much deeper kind of sustenance. Sensing that the storm has passed, Soraya loosens her grip on me and stares into my eyes tenderly. “It’s going to be ok, I promise.” She looks down at her chest, where my face had been laying, and sees how it’s covered with a mixture of tears, snot and drool. This only heightens my shame, but she doesn’t seem to mind. She picks up a small towel, but rather than cleaning herself up, she delicately cleans my face instead. I’m still crying at this point, but it feels like the big storm has indeed passed. Soraya, still staring into my eyes, says : “How about we try this again, now?” She quickly dips under the table to retrieve the spoon and puts it away. That’s when I notice that someone must have put a new spoon on the tray while I was calming down from my tantrum, because there’s a clean one laying right next to the bowl, as if nothing had happened. This time will be right. This time, I’ll get that food. Soraya picks up the fresh spoon from the tray, dips it into the bowl, and slowly brings it up to my mouth. Through the process, I can still feel the ravenous pangs of hunger in my stomach, but I resist having another tantrum and I just let it come to me. My entire world now consists of this one spoonful of pink liquid, as I concentrate with all of my limited faculties on allowing it to come to me peacefully. Finally, the spoon reaches my lips. Having practiced with the thickened water for quite some time in the past couple days, my body knows what to do. My mouth opens and closes down on the spoon, and the sweet liquid finally touches my tongue. The sweetness of the liquid is like an explosion for my senses, and I’m filled with a strong strawberry taste that is so intense I feel both nauseated and ecstatic. I can feel myself shiver in excitement at this forgotten sensation, and, using all of my might, I try to keep my mouth closed and make sure I don’t lose a single drop of it. Despite my best efforts, some of it does drip down across my chin, but I still manage to swallow most of it. I can feel the spoonful going down my throat and reaching my stomach. My stomach, groaning furiously, struggles to accept it. I can feel the waves of nausea hitting me and I fear I’m going to lose the precious liquid. My attention is so taken by the processes inside my body that I don’t notice Soraya’s gaze, who’s also attentively observing me to see if I’ll be able to keep the spoonful in. She’s speaking to me encouragingly as we both wait anxiously on my stomach. I can feel myself dry heaving a few times, but nothing actually comes out. After a few minutes, it seems like this spoonful was a success. My heart swells with pride and satisfaction at this victory. I’ve finally had my first taste of “real” food since waking up. Soraya also erupts in praises for me, and she seems very pleased. In the following minutes, Soraya tentatively feeds me a few more spoons, and each time she does, I do my best to resist having a tantrum as I did before, despite my hunger feeling insatiable. After each spoonful, I can feel my stomach struggling between accepting and regurgitating it, and after the fourth one, Soraya notices my dry heaving being much stronger than previously and judges I’ve reached my limit. And so, she calls an end to our little feeding session. Seeing her stop makes me feel a storm of new emotions. I feel sad that it’s over and my hunger still doesn’t feel quelled. However, I also feel extremely nauseous, to the point that I’m surprised I haven’t hurled everything back yet. And throughout all these emotions remains the feeling of pride. Once again, I’ve regained some of my independence, and I can feel that it means I’m progressing in my recovery. As Soraya gets up to leave the room, I whimper at her to try to get her to stay and keep feeding me. However, the moment she passes the door. I can hear an uproar of cheering coming from outside my room the moment she passes the door. It looks like a lot of people had been waiting for this moment. 6
Radioman Posted September 5, 2024 Posted September 5, 2024 This is an absolutely incredible story. Having been someone with a similar real life story, i can say you have expressed many of conditions accurately. My story was not as extreme as these conditions, but went thru the same thought processes and treatment. I hope you continue the story, and thank you for your writing. 1
mushy bottom Posted September 14, 2024 Posted September 14, 2024 One of the best stories on here ever. Please continue. 1
Jayme Posted September 16, 2024 Posted September 16, 2024 This is powerful. I can visualize everything happening and see the multiple viewpoints involved. Please continue your beautiful story when you have time. 1
inconkit Posted September 23, 2024 Author Posted September 23, 2024 Oh my God! Thank you so much for those kind comments! I'm really happy that you guys enjoy it. This really helps with the motivation to keep writing. I've started on the next chapter and I'll try to get it out as soon as I can! On 9/5/2024 at 2:48 PM, Radioman said: This is an absolutely incredible story. Having been someone with a similar real life story, i can say you have expressed many of conditions accurately. My story was not as extreme as these conditions, but went thru the same thought processes and treatment. I hope you continue the story, and thank you for your writing. Thank you for sharing a bit about your own history. Some of this story comes from memories of my own experiences and feelings of being hospitalized, though it was obviously nowhere near as extreme either. I initially started writing it as a way to revisit those feelings.
inconkit Posted December 25, 2024 Author Posted December 25, 2024 Took a while, but here's a chapter! It's a short one, but the following one is a bit longer and should come out pretty soon! Happy holidays yall! Chapter 10 : Clogging up In the following couple days, eating food was added to my routine of diaper changes, towel clean ups, stretching exercises and water feeding.. Truth be told, aside from the intense nausea it provoked, it really wasn’t all that different from having the thickened water, considering that whatever mixture they were feeding me was about just as watery, if not more. Thinking about it, isn’t it a bit ironic that the water they feed me ends up being thicker than the food? With all that said, I feel really proud about my progress, and I feel like I could really get used to this routine of spooned liquid food. I’m also getting better at controlling my instincts, though I find that it’s really hard to control myself as soon as I smell the sweet strawberry odor. I feel like there’s a sort of black hole inside my belly that gets awoken whenever the aroma wafts into my nose, and the urge to just lunge at the food becomes really strong. I suppose they’re purposely keeping me slightly underfed to avoid upsetting my stomach too much, and as much as I feel like resenting them for it, I know it’s better for me that way. After a few days of getting used to this, I can overhear Marie-Claude talking to Soraya in a worried tone as she's coming in for a feeding session right after my peppy nurse has changed my diaper. “It’s been close to a week now, shouldn’t she have had a bowel movement by now?” “We knew this was a possibility when we got her off the feeding tube. Her body just doesn’t know how to process food anymore. Constipation was to be expected.” I can't understand what Soraya has answered, but I can feel that she has a tinge of worry as well. Maybe something wrong is going on with me? I can’t help but feel some anxiety listening in on this conversation. “Should we get her on laxatives? We could ask Dr Gratton what she thinks.” “You know what? I think you’re right. I was hoping things would kick in by themselves, but it’s likely she does need a little help. I’ll ask Dr. Gratton after we’re done with this session.” I'm not sure what they're talking about, but the resolve in Soraya’s voice reassures me that whatever is worrying them seems to be something they can deal with. I even recognized Dr. Gratton’s name, and remembered the stern, but still gentle lady who would often visit me and even check in on me every once in a while in a similar way to Dr. Brodeur. We then proceed with the feeding session and the sweet taste of food quickly makes me forget any worry this conversation might have caused to stir within me. With this conversation forgotten, and as the following days pass me by, I’m starting to notice a new pain, which adds up on top of all my other, regular aches : My stomach hurts. When I touch it, I notice that it’s a bit swollen, and every time I move, I can feel a sort of pressure there. I overhear Marie-Claude talking to Soraya before feeding me, as she’s preparing my food: “I’m not sure we’re going to be able to keep feeding her as much if she can’t process it like that, this worries me a little.” To that, Soraya answers : “ Dr. Gratton warned us that this was a possibility, but I admit that if even the laxatives aren’t working, that is an issue. And she looks like she’s in some more pain too, I noticed her wincing while I was touching her there. I don’t think it’s impacted stools however, it just seems like she’s processing everything so slowly that nothing is getting evacuated.” Despite my difficulties in processing speech, I can still hear that they’re talking about laxatives and stools, and it makes me wonder if constipation might not be the reason my stomach hurts like that. It is true that I’ve been eating liquid food for many days now, and I have yet to have evacuated any of it. It makes me wonder though if liquid food even turns to poop? It’s not like it’s solid or anything, so wouldn’t my body just absorb it? But the conversation I’m overhearing seems to imply that I should, in fact, be pooping, and so does my aching stomach. Knowing the state of my body control, I’m not really super eager to experience a dirty diaper, but I suppose it would be better than the current situation. As Soraya proceeds with the now familiar process of strapping me to my chair and feeding me, I’m having a harder time getting the appropriate movements in and become even more covered in sticky food than usual. For once, even the sweet strawberry smell doesn’t snap me out of my thoughts as I keep wondering if something bad will happen to me. Soraya appears to notice as she asks in a worried tone: “What’s going on Sweety? Aren’t you hungry? It’s the first time I’m seeing you so unenthusiastic about your food. Is it because your tummy hurts? We're working on that I promise you Sweety." As a result of my distraction, I don’t notice the food even as it’s brought directly to my lips and gets gently shoved in my mouth. The sweet liquid ends up just spilling out of my mouth and dribbling onto my chin even more than usual. That particular meal ends with me having barely eaten anything, despite Soraya’s best efforts. 3
Dirty Boy Posted December 26, 2024 Posted December 26, 2024 I don't know if it would be more terrible to be in Lea's situation, with the knowledge of having lost years of life and not knowing if she will return to a normal life, or in her parents' shoes, who see their daughter in that state. I hope Lea can recover and have a normal life 1
starlajean80 Posted December 28, 2024 Posted December 28, 2024 Just finished reading this is so good please continue 1
inconkit Posted December 29, 2024 Author Posted December 29, 2024 Here's another chapter! Please enjoy it! Chapter 11 : An unexpected meeting After a few days, I’m becoming somewhat familiar with the pain in my stomach. I’m delighted to see Soraya show up after my nurse is done with my morning preparations. She greets me with her sweet smile and tells me with her usual soft voice: “Now, I know you’ve had a bad experience in the past, but I think it’s time we try going on a little walk again. You can’t always be stuck in your room, can you? I think you’ll like this” I’m not sure what she said, but I feel that she’s trying to reassure me about something. She starts the routine that usually takes place when I’m being placed in my wheelchair. This somewhat surprises me, since nowadays this routine usually only happens when I’m being fed, and I don’t see any food or thickened water. I did notice that they’ve reduced the amount of food I was fed ever since I started getting stomach aches, replacing it with water instead. With all that said, this routine is familiar to me, and so despite the unusual circumstance, I follow her lead and allow myself to be strapped into my wheelchair. I’m a bit worried, but a sense of excitement starts building up. Soraya then says, her voice as soft and reassuring as ever: “Lea, we’re going to try and take a little stroll to the living room ok? I promise you if this gets overwhelming for you, we’ll just go straight back to your room.” She then starts wheeling me forward, and I finally realise that she’s moving towards the door of my bedroom and recognize the words “living room”. We’re going back there. Remembering how it went the first time we did it, I can’t help but feeling nervous, but the truth is that I’ve also been somewhat craving it. I remember the awesome view from the window as if it were a vivid dream, and I wish I could see it again. And so, Soraya pushes my wheelchair and IV pole past the threshold of the door. I can’t help but let out a few moans of nervous excitement. Soraya answers with soothing words. I’m now back into that hallway I went through before. Since the big incident in the living room, I did go in that hallway a few times, but we never got very far from my bedroom door and it felt very different than it does now. This time, Marie-Claude isn’t there to cheer, and I’m slightly thankful for it. As much as I love her and her peppy enthusiasm, it can be a little bit overwhelming at times. Soraya keeps a steady pace as we’re slowly moving towards the end of the hallway. As usual, a few doors are open, and I can even see a shape that my poor eyesight can almost make out to be Marie-Claude working on someone else. She seems too busy to notice me. It makes me wonder about the lives of the other residents here. Surely they must be in conditions that are similar to mine. Maybe a few of them might even be able to understand what I’m going through? My thoughts are interrupted as I start to make out the large window of the living room through the doorframe at the end of the hallway. We get closer and closer to it and I brace myself for the shock of entering it once more. Last time we got there, I was quickly overwhelmed by the sight of the outside world, and my anxiety starts to grow at that thought. Soraya keeps talking in her soothing voice, which does help me to calm down, but I still find myself nervously moaning once again. We finally pass the threshold of the doorframe, and my eyes are immediately drawn not by the window as I expected, but to the sight of another person in the room. A girl, seemingly around my age, is strapped in a wheelchair much like mine, and appears to be watching cartoons on the TV at a low volume. It’s the first time I actually see another patient from here! Her head turns towards me with difficulty as I get in, and despite my poor vision, I can tell that she’s looking at me. Soraya speaks : “Oh! Karine! I didn’t realize you were already here sweety! Anita must have brought you here!” She seems nervous about the unexpected encounter, and appears to be studying me for signs of a negative reaction. However, I’m just fascinated to meet someone else who seems to be in my situation. “Lea, this is Karine! She’s been with us for a couple weeks now. Karine, meet Lea! Lea has been with us for many years but only woke up around the time you got here yourself!” We study each other in silence for what seems like minutes. Eventually, she seems to lose interest in me and her head turns back to her cartoons. However, I can’t take my eyes off of her. She’s very thin and has a full head of dirty blonde hair. Just like me, she’s strapped in her wheelchair, but her back looks less crooked than mine. She does seem to be slumping to one side a little however. She’s wearing the same kind of green hospital gown I’m wearing myself. She also doesn’t seem to need an IV bag like I do. What has happened to this girl? I think Soraya introduced her as Karine? Could she be in a situation that is similar to mine? I once again think back to how small my world has become. Though I can’t remember much of it, my life from before used to be filled with people and activities. Now, the only people in it are doctors, nurses, Soraya and my mom. As thankful as I am for how well they care for me, it still makes for very one directional relationships, and I find myself wishing I could give back some of the energy they’re pouring into me, rather than to always be in this state of dependency with everyone I see. I wonder if it might be possible to develop some kind of relationship with the girl, though it seems unlikely given my inability to communicate. Seeing that I’m not panicking, Soraya wheels me next to the girl in front of the television, pointlessly asking if I want to watch TV. I can actually understand her question, but of course, I have no way to answer. I can see the window on my left, and just like last time, it feels like the vastness of the world threatens to suck me in at any time. However, the light outside isn’t as violent as I remember it being last time, and the presence of the girl to my right provides a strong distraction. And so, unlike last time, I resist the temptation to look at the scary, expansive sight of snowy trees too much. Instead, I look at the girl, who acknowledges my taking place beside her by giving me another look, before setting her attention back to the cartoons. The cartoon appears to be depicting talking animals going about their lives, and appears to be aimed at older children, but I can’t see the images all that well and don’t understand most of what they’re saying. However, in that moment, sitting there in that warm living room, with Soraya and this girl next to me, I feel something I don’t think I’ve ever felt since waking up the first time: I feel a sense of peace. I find myself wishing this moment won’t end. I realize how much I’m enjoying it when I involuntarily let out a loud sigh of contentment. This warrants me another look from the girl, and Soraya, who is now sitting on a couch beside me says, delighted: “Isn’t that going well Sweety? You seem to be having a good time here with Karine!” Since the cartoon is too confusing for me, my thoughts start drifting, and I start thinking about my brother, for some reason. I think of the time I saw him here. Even though my memories of those events are extremely hazy, I still remember the essentials. I can’t help but feel shame at my behavior towards him. Understandably, he hasn’t visited back yet. Maybe I’d be ok seeing him again? I’ve progressed so much since I first saw him here. I still have tantrums and moments when I can’t control myself, but I feel like this time I’d be ready to see him. I have vague memories of how I used to take care of him before… well before this and how much I loved spending time with him. He’s always been a good kid, and I was so proud of my little brother. I have a distinct memory of teaching him ice skating, and how much he struggled at first. I still can’t believe he’s as old as he is now. I remember building forts for him, or just sitting down to watch cartoons with him. I realize this is why I’m thinking about him. We used to watch cartoons together, and now I’m doing just that, but with that girl in the living room. Still feeling a sense of peace and contentment, my attention is brought back to the moving images, where a cute cat character seems to be in a pretty comedic predicament. Karine, who’s still sitting next to me in her wheelchair, lets out a short giggle. This makes me laugh as well, though I’m not even sure why I’m laughing. Karine and I look at each other once again and I think I can see a glint in her eyes. Even though we aren’t talking, I feel like we’re starting to create a bond, and I find myself wishing I’ll be able to see her again once this is over. During our time together, I also noticed something odd with her face. It looks like half of her face is slumped down, and whenever she smiles or laughs, only half of her face is able to move. I even notice that she has a stream of spittle similar to mine at the corner of her mouth. Maybe her face being like that has something to do with why she’s here? We finish watching the cartoon together, and I barely even register when Soraya excuses herself and leaves the two of us alone. My attention is now entirely taken by the colorful images and funny action on the screen as well as by the reactions of my new… friend? Is it silly to call her a friend? I’m really enjoying that moment with her and it feels like time is standing still. After a while, I hear movement beside me, and when I turn my head I can see the shape of Soraya coming into the living room. “Well girls! It looks like you had a good time, but all good things must come to an end!” As Soraya gets behind my wheelchair, I suddenly start feeling very upset that they’re ending this moment. I feel my eyes watering and feel myself on the cusp of one of my all too common tantrums. I start moaning and Soraya, sensing my distress, quickly attempts to calm me down. “Hey Sweety don’t worry, we’ll come here again! I’m sure your new friend would love to spend more time with you, isn’t that right Karine?” I’m having a hard time registering what she’s saying, but her saying Karine’s name does calm me a little. Will I see her again? I see Karine nodding at whatever Soraya was saying and it somehow feels reassuring. And then, to my shock, she starts talking. Her word are very heavily slurred and it sounds like a huge effort on her part, but she manages to say: “I’ shee you again, ‘Ea” The shock of hearing her speak to me completely snaps me out of my distress. I didn’t know she could speak! I wish I could answer her, but all I can muster is a long moan. Hopefully I was able to convey that I did want to see her again. Soraya also seems very happy to hear her speak, answering: “Wow! Karine, that’s awesome! You really got better with your speech! I’ll make sure to bring her back here when you’re there again, ok? I’m glad you girls are settling in here!” Karine seems happy with the compliment as the half of her face that can move is beaming with pride. Soraya then wheels me out of the living room, this time without a sign of tantrum in sight. While I’m sad that the moment I had with Karine is gone, I still feel happy that Karine spoke to me, and now I’m even more sure that this could be the beginning of a real friendship. 4
Dirty Boy Posted December 29, 2024 Posted December 29, 2024 This story is beautiful but it is also heartbreaking, poor girls I imagine being a parent and seeing your daughter in Lea and Karine's condition. As if your heart was ripped out of your chest 2
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