"Ah, yes, let me go over your injuries, shall I?" He started, relieved to have something he knew to discuss. Flipping back to the front, he began to read off the information. "You arrived in the ER with a right distal radius fracture and minor burns on your legs and arms along with bruising. As they assessed you, you started to code and had to be taken into immediate surgery. You had swelling in the brain from a contusion on the right frontal lobe. To reduce the swelling, you were placed in a medically induced coma. They were able to repair your wrist and reduce the swelling over time. Your throat is raw from the breathing tube they only removed this morning." He stopped, looking up at me finally after his spiel. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions."
I wanted to laugh at his blasé attitude, reading off my trauma with as little regard as one reads a fucking recipe. To minimize my feelings down to mere questions felt inaccurate because they plagued me. I just couldn't bring myself to voice them as I processed his information.
I'd been in a coma and almost died.
It was sobering to absorb the information. Maybe the brain trauma explained the hallucination I had when I awoke? No one had returned yet, so perhaps it was possible, and their presence was only a figment of my imagination.
While I assessed the information in my head, the door opened, and the voice returned with some ice chips crushing all my hopeful conclusions.
"Here you go, babe. This will help."
Staring at the figure, I blinked and tried to erase them from my sight. It didn't work. Squeezing my eyes tight, I tried again to restart this apparent nightmare. When I opened them again, it was, unfortunately, the same scene I left. Glaring daggers at the doctor, I attempted to ignore the voice, hoping they'd get the hint and go away. The doctor continued to go over something in my chart but must've felt my eyes on him, lifting his to mine a moment later.
"If you're having trouble remembering, it's normal. We don't know yet the extent it might have on your brain, short-term or long-term. Did you think of a question yet?"
"Yeah," I croaked, taking an ice chip and sucking it down before I tried again. "The first is, what the hell is my ex-husband doing here?"
My question startled both men in the room, and looks of shock appeared on their faces. Perhaps it was the cursing, but more than likely, it was the nature of the question. Brian's mouth gaped as he stared at me like he'd seen a stranger. The doctor looked uncomfortable and shifted on his feet as he tried to find the answer in the chart, he clutched to his chest.
"Loren!" my mother exclaimed, walking into the room.
"Fucking great! It just keeps getting better," I whispered. However, it must've been loud enough if my mother's outrage was any indication.
"Doctor, is this a symptom of brain trauma?" Brian asked aloud, looking back and forth from me and the doc. The doctor swallowed, clearly uncomfortable with the level of tension in the room.
"It's possible. We'd have to do more tests to be certain. Excuse me while I grab the nurse, and we can see about getting those scheduled."
At that, the little man escaped the room and the building tension. I wanted to be angry with him for leaving, but I couldn't blame him in the end. I didn't want to be in this room either with those two, but I had no way of escaping, unlike him.
Sighing, I closed my eyes and wished them away. This whole hospital stay gave me the courage to be my true self. I didn't have enough energy to fake anything today. As the kids said in sessions, I had zero fucks left to give.
"Loren! My stars! I can't believe this is how you treat us. Don't you know how worried we've all been? I swear, you purposefully do these things…."
My mother droned on, but I tuned her out, tired of her bullshit altogether. She didn't care about me, only how it made her look. It was the harsh reality of Jacqueline Hanover.
"Can it, Mom. You're giving me a headache."
Rubbing my temples, I was thankful when she did shut up, taking my words to heart. Even with my eyes closed, her ire radiated as she huffed and sat angrily in a chair. I could feel her irritation and disappointment directed at me with my eyes closed.
"Brian, why are you here?" I sighed, exhaustion weighing heavy on me.
"You're asking why I'm here? Loren, you almost died!"
"And?" Rolling my eyes, I leveled him with a look of disdain. "You're not my husband anymore. In fact, it's been official for a whole year now. So again, why are you here?"
"How can you be so callous? They called me when you were brought in. I guess I'm still your emergency contact through insurance," he finally admitted.
"You could've easily told them the truth. I don't want you here. Please, just leave."
"You want me to leave? After being by your side for days, you want me just to leave?" Brian shouted at me, incredulity heavy in each word.
The volume of his voice made me wince as I started to feel a sharp pain in my head. Part of his rant filtered through, and I focused on what he'd just said. Days.
"Wait, how long have I been here?"
I opened my eyes, needing to see them when they answered. They looked at one another, uncertainty plaguing their features, before returning their gazes to me.
"You've been here almost a week."