Decrease

Tuesday - September 21

I hear a car door open, then being shut. Shit! I feel weird. I think I'm on the brute's shoulder again. It's cold. I no longer hear the brute's shoes crunching snow anymore. Instead, I hear them clicking on cement. Are we in a building? What building? There's whispering. Damn it! I want to hear what they're talking about! Is that an elevator, I hear?

"You know that (inaudible) until her (inaudible)."

"I will need (inaudible) able to (inaudible) not later."

"Se... (inaudible). Veri... (inaudible)."

"Unbel... (inaudible)...ssary."

My head feels different. I wonder what happened. Oh, I can see. Well, well, well. I wonder what this place is. I see a desk with a computer. I hear hospital sounds like medical apparatuses of some kind. Where am I? I hear voices and they're becoming more distinct.

"I think he's coming around. Dr. Bennett, can you hear me? If you can, will you please blink your eyes?"

I hear a woman's voice, but I don't know if I can do what she's asking.

"Dr. Bennett? Can you blink your eyes?"

I don't know. Can I? I concentrate, and then it happens; I blink.

"Excellent, Dr. Bennett. Keep blinking your eyes. In a few moments I'll be putting some eye drops in to help lubricate them. That's right, keep blinking. Okay, Dr. Bennett, stop blinking, and lie still while I put in some more drops. Try not to jump. There's one eye, and there's the other. Very good, we're done. Please blink, Dr. Bennett. Blink."

As I continue to blink, I begin to feel a warming sensation traveling throughout my entire body. My fingers and toes start to move. Then my legs and arms start to move, allowing me to adjust my head to see where I am. But I'm too weak to sit. I try to roll onto my back, but find that difficult to do as well.

"Dr. Bennett, please, let me help you roll over."

Finally, lying on my back, I look at the woman who I'm assuming has been the one talking to me.

"There you are, Dr. Bennett. Are you comfortable?" she asks, smiling.

I can't talk yet. I blink to let her know that I am.

"Good. Your voice should be returning in about four to eight minutes. In the meantime, here are some ice shavings. I need you to swallow, not chew; not a lot, but some."

She raises the bed, hands me a cup filled with ice, and gives me a plastic spoon, then says, "Start using your arms. They might feel weak, but they're not."

I try to grab a hold of the cup, but am unsuccessful.

"Concentrate, Dr. Bennett. Concentrate."

Displaying a skeptical grin, I grab the cup of ice, and with all my might, lift my left arm to grab the plastic spoon and dig out a few shavings. Astounded, I slowly bring the spoon closer to my mouth, when all at once the spoon and cup of ice plummet to my chest. The patient woman picks up my mess and replaces the spoon back into my hand, and says, "Try again, Dr. Bennett."

Reluctantly, I try once more. Slowly, I bring the spoon to my mouth, and right when it touches my lips, I realize that my mouth won't open. I look at the woman, appealing for help.

"Please," as I plead with her.

The woman smiles and says, "It looks like you're starting to make a full recovery, Dr. Bennett. Please, eat the ice."

I quickly engulf the small bits of ice I manage to put on the spoon the second time. It feels so good melting slowly in my mouth, allowing the liquid to flow smoothly down my throat as it begins to soothe. Before all of the ice melts, I shove another spoonful into my mouth, enjoying the refreshing coolness.