Living Like Sleeping Beauty

Chapter Forty Four - The Recovery Period

"She needs more pillows."

"No, sweetheart. She doesn't. She'll hurt her back with those four."

"Do you want some tea?"

"Someone get her a blanket."

"That's it. I'm getting her more pillows."

The whirlwind of bodies entered and reentered the sitting room of Gran's house, their worried faces finding it difficult to look at me for moments at a time before suddenly finding something else that I desperately needed.

"I don't need anything else," I insisted. "I mean it. Dad, please don't get more pillows."

The occupants of the room became still. Gran stopped from her progression to the kitchen to make me tea while my mother stopped tucking in the edges of my blanket despite the fact that I tugged myself out of the cocoon each time, far too warm to be wrapped up. Chase continued to hover above my head, his hand gripping his chin with concerned eyes resting upon me while my father laid a hand on my pillows, as if to check if they were the correct level of fluffiness to suit me.

"Thank you for worrying about me. But I just need some rest." I tried to smile in an attempt to reassure them of my growing health in hopes of saving my sanity.

There seemed to be no end to the fussing over me. I had thought the hard thing about being in a coma was 'waking up' yet that was only the beginning. Despite Dr Edwards being hopeful for a full recovery, I was kept under observation in the ICU, in case any worrying symptoms occurred. As my doctor predicted, I suffered from headaches, the kind that felt like a hammer had been allowed to wreck havoc on my mind and grew progressively worse when exposed to a loud sound or a glare of sunlight. Each symptom was met and recorded with concern and even more observation. When the headaches began to subside to my and everyone else's relief, I thought the nightmare was over.

I was wrong.

I left my room in the ICU unit only to be moved to the neurology unit for even more observation. It was appropriate for me to be moved to the brain squad because I was beginning to fear I was losing my mind.

It was not until a month after I had woken up, before I was allowed home.

Yet I was here and I still felt the suffocation of eyes watching me for any sign of symptoms. It felt as if I would never leave the hospital. I was to become a permanent patient for the rest of my life.

Eventually the people in the room began to retreat to the door, their faces trying desperately to be optimistic. Once I was alone, I rested my head back on the pillows and tried to have a quick sleep before I would be surrounded once again, only to groan in frustration when my neck was positioned in an awkward position.

With a grunt, I removed a pillow from behind me, thanking whoever had convinced my father that more pillows was a bad idea.

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Three days later I was allowed to leave the comfort of the living room and once again explore the world on my own two feet. I had missed my independence and it felt satisfying to do what I wanted when I felt the wish to do so.

I sat on the stool in the kitchen, resting my forearms on the marble counter. The cool exterior felt delicious in dry heat of the day. My mother busied herself by deciding to make a dinner tonight, to celebrate my health. Scott would be there, a welcome face with everything that had happened. It made me somewhat warm inside to think of how he had been during the entire hospital stay and since I had returned home. It was true that actions spoke louder than words because his actions reassured me of every sentiment he had ever given me. He cared for me and loved me. If the roles had been reversed, I knew that I would have done the exact same thing.