The doctors and nurses seem to never leave me alone. They flit about my hospital room checking my vitals and so on and so forth. Whenever someone gets too close to me, or someone enters my personal space you can hear the heart monitor rapidly beeping.
I flush again as a good looking male doctor comes to check my wrappings on my ribs. My heart monitor started blaring rapidly as he lifted up my night gown to look at me. I couldn't help it, it wasn't because he was attractive, it was because I felt this horrible sense of dread. I don't think I could live through another round of that. The doctor looked up with sympathetic eyes, making me squirm in my bed. I didn't know if I liked that look or not.
"Is your mother around here" the good looking doctor asked politely?
"No, I think she went back home to get some of my stuff....But why do you ask?" I said softly
"Well, we have some results we took a few days ago and I was wanting to share them with her."
I was a bit perplexed as why he wanted to share them with her not me. I was the patient after all, the one who should know this information.
I raised my voice a little "Well, I am the patient." I said slowly trying to figure a way to put it nicely. "Shouldn't I be the one being informed about what the results are?" And before I could stop it from slipping out. "Not her?"
The doctor shot me an unreadable look before nodding slowly and saying. "Well, I guess you would find out eventually, Though I have no doubt you already know most of what I'm going to say..." He trailed off towards the end of the sentence. "I was just hoping that someone you were close to could tell you or at least be here." He took an intense interest in my feet, refusing to make eye contact with me.
I just stared at him for what seemed to be a good minute. I hadn't been comfortable around my mom for the past two years. I couldn't stop the thought no matter how hard I tried. I knew they were horrible, that had to atlas count for something. I sighed softly, apparently the doctor thought that was a sign.
He quickly grabbed my folder from the bin outside the room and opened it. His eye flitted up from the page to look at the clock then at me, only to shortly return to the pages of paper.
"Are you sure you don't want to wait for your mother to get back, I'm sure she won't be long." He tried again.
I was quickly becoming agitated, though it felt nice to feel something other than that numbness that seemed to be my constant companion. I was getting tired of him stalling. I already knew what had happened to me. No matter how hard I tried to block out the painful memories, they were slashed so deeply in my brain that there was no hope of ever forgetting. So it wasn't like he was going to be telling me anything new.
"For the love of god!" I groaned. He took that as a signal to continue without my mother. "Well, physically you have three bruised ribs. But luckily nothing seems to be broken." He said this while putting up and x-ray they had done earlier. I think I knew that much, I could feel the dull ache every time I breathed.
"On top of that you have numerous burns on your shoulders back and thighs, along with a concussion. There seems to be..." The good looking doctor struggled for words as he clipped a new picture of x-rays up. "There seems to be a few breaks that have been set and healed. It looks like your shoulder has been dislocated several times and you have broken your left arm twice." He pointed to the X-ray of my left arm. My eyes scanned over all the other X-rays. I knew about all these breaks, I remember each one like it had happened but a few hours ago. He continued on, unswear of the images that seemed to plague my brain.
"It's not to bad of a break, but still. I have no clue how he managed to set some of these older breaks. They may not be done perfectly but..." The doctor when on some rant about how well they were set, almost in awe. Before realization came over him, and a look of guilt crossed his face. He seemed flustered as he flipped through the folder in front of him. His lips seemed to be moving but his voice never reached my ears, I was too far gone in past memories.
Jeff, being in the line of service knew how to do more simple things like this. After he fixed the little mess he caused, he would pump me full of pills to lessen the pain. It never worked fully and my mother would wonder why I was limping or favoring one arm. Jeff was always there to tell her about the fall I had and that he thought I might have a light sprain.
I tuned back in."....PTSD" he finished look me in the eyes, so much sorrow and pity over flowed them that I had forgotten what he just said. "PTSD?" I said robotically.
"Yes, when the physiatrist came in the day you arrived and gave you a psyche evaluation. He diagnosed you with PTSD. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Along with that he said you showed signs of high anxiety and depression. He suggested that you be put on a pill regiment to help with the anxiety and that you see a counselor at least twice a week to help with the PTSD and depression." He finished just as my mother walked in my room with two large suitcases. My mind was already racing, seeing her with the suit cases just caused things to spin around my head a little faster.
"Come out into the hallways and I can explain to you what I just explained to Bryn." Doctor-now that I look at his name tag I flinch back-Doctor Jeffery motioned to the glass door for my mother to exit. She took a long look at me and then went out.
I watched her slim frame slump as the doctor explained to her what he had just told me. Her naturally tan skin paled and her knuckles turned white as she gripped her arms tighter. She hugged the sweater she wore tightly around her and let her long red hair become a curtain between us. If only I looked like my mother then maybe he wouldn't have done all this to me.
But my mind no longer took in her and the doctor's outlines as they spoke outside my hospital room, it wandered to what he had just told me. The physical stuff I knew, I remember each blow, break, and burn. But PTSD was new to me. I had heard it mentioned in Phycology a few times, and again on TV. But I didn't know the details. I just thought people who came back from war got it. You know, soldiers fighting and experiencing traumatic events. I guess a civilian could be diagnosed with PTSD too. My mind kept wondering, and occasionally I would have to throw up a wall to stop from remembering specific details. As I continued to mull this new condition over in my head, they re-entered the room.
My mother look like she had swallowed something sour and the doctor looked concerned himself. My mother's eyes kept flicking between me, the cell phone tightly grasped between her fingers, and the two suitcases. Bringing their presence back into mind.
"What are those for?" I said quietly.
My mother looked as if she were going to cry again as she made her way across the room to come sit on the edge of the bed. "Please don't be mad." She began and instantly my walls flew up and my expressionless mask was in place. She continued "I called your father-"
"You did what?!" I raised my voice a littler higher.
Jeff had forced me to lower my voice, to learn how to talk softly like a good woman should.The last two years he had said that I needed to be reformed. Because I was his woman. Once I had become the proper woman for him, he would finally...Luckily my thoughts were interrupted by her placing a hand on my leg.
"I called your father and. Well, we talked," She paused to look at me. I schooled my expression to remain emotionless, just like he had taught me. Though, even if I could show emotion at this point in time. I doubt I would have the energy to.
"We both agree that it would be best if you went to stay out with him for some time. I mean it's been over 5 years since you last saw him and I'm sure you miss him. He already has enrolled you high school. It's very nice, one of the best high schools in New York City" She rambled on about there would be lots of restaurants for me to try, and loads of shopping.
I interrupted her for the second time "But why are you sending me there.." I trailed off. A remorseful look came across her face.
"Please. Please try to understand why I'm doing this." She repeated. "I just.." She looked at me again and tears welled up in her eyes and rolled down her mascara streaked face. "I can't look at you, and know that I let such things happen to you. It's all my fault" She blubbered. "I just can't look at you because then I picture all of those things he did to you, and I just, I can't." She sobbed.
I started at her face. Once upon a time I wanted to be exactly like her. With her long flowing red hair, skin that seemed to always have a healthy glow, and her baby blue eyes that seemed to always be so kind. I had tried to color my hair with a red marker once when I was younger, just to try and be a little more like her. But it wasn't just her pretty eyes and small stature that I wanted, it was the way she held herself. The way she acted like nothing could bring her down. But in this very moment, I made a promise to myself. To never be like this woman who was supposedly my mother.
"You always covered for him" I spoke softly. "Always saying that he was under a lot of stress from work" I couldn't bare to look her in the eyes, so I stared at my bruised knuckles. "I came to you once. When I had stored up enough courage to finally tell you." I couldn't bear to make eye contact at this point. " Do you know how long it took me to finally get enough courage to tell you? Do you even have any idea what It felt like when you told me I was being over dramatic?I needed you.." My voice wobbled, I didn't even try and stop the tears that were forming in my eyes. I didn't have to hide the tears from him anymore, why hold them back anymore?
I knotted the bed sheets around my hands. I still refused to look up at her when she spoke. "I just thought you were overreacting. You're 18 years old and Jeff had told me that you had started acting out and hanging out with a-" I cut her off in a blind rage, my eyes flying up to clash with hers.
"You're still making excuses for him! Open up you're damn eyes and see what he's done." I said in a raised voice. I could faintly hear the monitors in the background beep at a faster pace.
I ripped the hospital gown they had given me on arrival. The cigarette burns were now visible on my shoulders and back, along with dozens of old and new bruises. I saw her open her mouth to say something but I cut her off before she could get a word out.
"As my mother you were supposed to protect me! I tried to tell you.nI fucking tried to tell you but you didn't want to listen. And now because you want to drown in self pity. Because you can't bare to see the fact that you screwed up another marriage all because you-" My mother's eyes were sparked with furry as she raised a hand.
I couldn't help but flinch back into the pillows and squeeze my eyes together tightly. My heart monitor was beeping to fast it almost sounded like one continues beep. It was only after a few seconds of not feeling the sharp pain accompanied by a slap, did I open my eyes.
Her body was frozen as more black tinted tears ran down her face. It was if she was in a trance of some sort as she continued to stare at me, her eyes held mine for what seemed to be like hours. It was the ringing of the phone that seemed to break her out of her trance.
She quickly withdrew it from her pocket and answered it. Said a few words and then hung up. "Who was that?" I asked in a disgusted voice. " It was your father just calling to confirm that in a week if the doctors say that you are okay to travel you will be picked up in one of his cars, along with any possessions and driven to New York City."
I glared at her, "So this I really happening, just because you can't deal with the fact that you let your husband abuse me for years, you are shipping me off." I spoke softly, reverting my gaze back down to my knuckles.
"Yes, it really is." She said in a weepy voice. She gave me a kiss on my forehead and before I had time to say anything, left the room. That was when I realized she wasn't going to be returning. She had abandoned me. It hit me like a ton of bricks and tears threatened my vision.
I would not cry, I chanted in my head. Not with so many people around. It's a sign of weakness for them to see you cry. I chanted that in my head over and over until it became a lullaby and my eyes became droopy. I finally succumbed to the darkness. Welcoming it, as it was an escape to this harsh world.
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