I woke up in my bed with blankets drawn up to my chest delicately. Mike must've brought me up last night after I passed out and after he calmed down. The night before was a blur in my mind, but it wasn't my biggest problem at the moment. Right now, I couldn't seem to ignore the pounding in my head. It felt as if someone was jabbing knives into it and the feeling didn't seem to pass. So, I just stayed in the fixed position I woke up in and started to look around, trying to figure out if Mike was in the house or not. At first glance, it appeared that he was gone, considering he wasn't in bed beside me and his shoes were still in their rack at the foot of our bed. But then, I heard the sound of running water coming from our bathroom sink.
"Mike?" I croaked out, starting to try and push myself up in the bed, squinting towards the bathroom. I picked up my glasses off my nightstand to get a better look.
From the door of the bathroom, the outline of Mike's body came into focus, revealing a man in pajama pants holding a wet rag in his hand. "Hey, Demi, just wait there and don't move. I don't want you passing out on me again. Lay back down and I'll be in to help you in a minute."
That's the thing about Mike, he always was there to help someone when they needed it, and he always was there to fix things. That's what I loved about him- his caring personality, a personality that seemed to escape right from him when he became angry and intoxicated. I missed the Mike I knew before alcohol decided to come into our relationship and try to tear us apart.
Not even a minute had passed before Mike came to my side with a bowl and wet rag. "This is going to sting a little, but try not to move or it will hurt more, okay?" His eyebrows were raised with concerned and he waited, rag raised, for me to respond to him. I nodded my head slightly. "Okay, good. This might take a while."
Carefully and gently, Mike raised the cloth to my face and slowly began dabbing it, starting at my cheekbone. He had only touched it to my face about four or five times before he put the rag back down into the bowl and placed it on the floor. "I need to go check something and I'll be right back. Don't move!"
He got up from the crouched position he was in on the floor and walked back into our bathroom. As he moved, I saw the muscles in his back flex, reminding me of how strong he really was. At any given moment, he could kill me easily without even exerting too much energy. There didn't seem to be a part of his body that wasn't toned. It wasn't by accident, though, as he worked out virtually ever day of the week.
At the sound of a drawer closing, Mike walked back in and resumed his spot at the side of the bed, picking the bowl and rag back up. "Alright, I'm gonna need you to close your eyes until I tell you that you can open them again, okay?" I nod, like before, shutting my eyes as I did so.
This time, I didn't experience the cold, wet feeling of the rag being dabbed across my face, but rather the feeling that something was being pulled from my skin. Dink! Dink, dink! Something must've hit the bowl as I heard the sound repeat softly a few times.
"Mike, what's that noise?"
"Ssshhh, Demi, you can't talk right now. I don't want to hurt you any further," Mike hushed, continuing to do whatever was that he was doing.
I opened my eyes, realizing I wasn't going to get an answer, and saw Mike with tweazers, dropping pieces of glass into the bowl. Dink, dink, dink! It was just a bloody mess of glass and flesh in a bowl of water that was tinted to a pinky-red.
"Mike-"
"Demi! I said not to open your eyes!" he exclaimed, sounding more concerned than angry.
The pounding in my head made me even more nauseous and I started to feel woozy. "Mike, I don't feel too well," I mumbled, starting to feel extremely sick.
As if a fire was set to his backside, Mike sprung up ran to the bathroom, coming back with a trashcan in hand. He handed it to me, and I grabbed the sides as he came up onto the bed and sat next to me, pulling back my hair out of my face. Almost instantly, I got sick into the can, vomiting profusely. Mike's soothing touch rubbed my back as my body continued to wretch.
I caught my breath after a few minutes and the feeling seemed to stop. "You okay now, babe?" Mike asked, still rubbing my back.
"I need to get a shower," I mumbled, uncurling my back and slowly sitting up.
"Okay, but I really need to get all of this glass out. You don't want any of that to get stuck or be pushed in deeper. Here, let me take that and I'll help you into the bathroom so we can finish this, okay?"
He held out his hand, looking to grab the trashcan. Willingly, I handed it to him saying,"Okay."
It felt nice to feel cared about so deeply by Mike after having so many falling outs lately. They say the first year is always the hardest, but I never would have imagined it would turn out like this. Although, I didn't question the authenticity of his concern, I knew Mike had other motivations to help me himself besides just being a good man to me. If we were to go to the hospital, questions would be raised; and Mike certainly didn't want us to be seen in public in this sort of state.
After returning the rubbish bin to the bathroom, Mike came back in for me. "Alright, I want you to get up slowly and only move if you feel stable."
Lifting his arm under me, I wrapped mine around his neck and started to get up. After taking a few steps, my head started to pound more than it had before and it felt as if my brain was attacking itself.
"Take your time. We're almost there."
We walked into the bathroom and I felt the cold tile touch the bottom of my feet, sending shivers up my spine. Mike led me to the bathtub, setting my down and making sure I was stable."You okay? Just get ready and start the water and I'll be back. I left the bowl in the room."
He turned, walking out of the bathroom, and I started getting undressed, turning on the water for it to warm up before I put the plug in. Looking down at my bare skin, I noticed all of the bruises that lined my arms, ribcage, and stomach. Tracing them with my finger, I imagined what my face must have looked like if this is what happened to my body. Trying to push the thought from my head, I put the plug in the drain and slipped into the tub slowly.
Mike reentered the bathroom after the tub was completely filled and I had put a dollop of soap in, resulting in a tub full of bubbles. I rested my head against the back of the tub, sinking deeper into the water, as Mike came in and placed the bowl down, resuming his duty of cleaning up my face.
"Ugh, it's so dark in here. Let me go turn on the light so I can see you better."
He turned back around, turning on the switch with a subtle flick of his fingers. Immediately, I covered my eyes as pain started searing through my skull."Ah, Mike! Turn it off!" I grunted through my teeth.
"I need it to see you clearly. It has to be on," he said, and his voice sounded to be coming closer.
"No! Turn it off!" I persisted, starting to feel really uncomfortable.
I heard his footsteps walk away and the sound of the switch turn off. Slowly, I pulled my arm down and proceeded to cover my face with my hands as my head was still throbbing. Following feeling the touch of Mike's hands trying to pull down my hands gently from my face, I heard him whisper,"Demi, what is going on?"
Usually, I'd be scared to say this, but given the circumstances of the situation and the pain I was in, I confessed,"Mike, I need to go see a doctor. I think I have a concussion again."
Instantly, I was drawn back by the memories of the last time I had a concussion about a month ago. Like this time, it was the result of physical battering from an argument we had. We were battering back and forth about plans for the summer, I think, and about going out to visit my parents since they didn't live in close proximity. It started off like a typical argument, so I didn't feel nervous about pressing my opinions on the subject because I thought it was just a normal fight between husband and wife; I was wrong. That night was the first night he hit me, and he ended up slamming my head against the wall so hard that I got a concussion.
As always, Mike was hesitant then to go to a doctor right away because he hadn't come up with a story of why I hit my had that would sound normal and legit to tell a doctor. Lucky for him, he was able to call up his friend who was an E.R. doctor and told him to be expecting us within the half hour. So, Mike drove me in and his friend set us up with the scans and everything, no problem. Unfortunately, Mike didn't have that option this time. His friend, Dr. Matthews, moved back to his hometown in Iowa to be with his failing mother. So, considering how hesitant he was to go last time, I could only imagine how reluctant he'd be to take me now, especially with the cuts on my face.
"Demi, I think you're overreacting a little. How about you lay down for a bit and I'll get you some Advil and then we can see if you still feel the same in an hour or so? Okay?" Mike suggested.
I sighed, having a feeling he was going to say something like that, and replied,"Mike, I really don't think that's going to do anything. This feels just like the last time I got a concussion, but worse."
He looked intently at me for a moment, appearing to be testing whether I was being sincere or not. It seemed as if he was trying to find a reason not to take me, but his conscience wouldn't let him and he gave in. "Alright, I'll take you in. But first, let me finish cleaning up your face. Then we'll get you out of here and dry you off and get you ready to get in the car. Oh, and we'll have to figure out what we're going to tell them."
Without a story in mind, Mike started to resume cleaning up my face as he pondered the thought. His eyebrows were scrunched up, making it obvious that he was thinking intently. I just kept my head resting back against the tub, trying to be relaxed as possible as the remaining pieces of glass was plucked from my face. It appeared that he had left the hardest pieces for last because I could tell they were being pulled deep from my skin; it's probably because I was left to sleep on it all night, further lodging the glass into my face.
"Oh, I know. We'll tell them we were hiking and then you misplaced your footing on a rock and fell down a few feet. Yeah, that sounds good," Mike explained to me, sounding pretty impressed with his idea.
At this point, I didn't even care that he was trying to cover up what he had done. I just wanted this pain to go away and to know that I was going to be okay.
I guess Mike had finished clearing the glass off because he suddenly spoke, saying,"Alright, I'm going to drain the water now. Are you ready to get out?"
I gave him a slight nod and then watch him take the plug out and pick up a towel, ready to help me out. "Do you need help or are you feeling better now?"
Considering I had been laying down the whole time, I had no clue how I would feel once I stood up and started walking. So, I slowly stood up, taking the towel from Mike's hands, wrapping it around my body, and started walking. Mike had his hands out in front of me like a cautious parent would for their newly-walking toddler. The first few steps seemed fine, but I was lucky Mike was there because I slipped on a puddle of water on the floor and started falling straight forwards. As opposed the floor, I landed in Mike's tough arms, who helped me back up again.
"Woah, there! You alright?" he smiled.
"Yeah, I just slipped. Can I just sit down for a minute?" I asked as we approached the bed.
He let me sit and then crouched down in front of me, looking up and asking,"Is there anything I can get you?"
"Yeah, some clothes. Could you just get me a t-shirt and some sweatpants?"
"Sure."
Mike turned around to our dresser and pulled out a Ramones t-shirt and some grey sweatpants that were neatly folded in the drawer. Handing them to me, he said,"Here, I'm going to go get ready for the day. Just give me a holler if you need me."
After his back was turned and the bathroom door was closed, I started to dry myself off and put on my fresh clothes. Finally, I started to feel reasonably comfortable wearing soft, lazy clothes, and getting the chance to just lay down without being harassed. I scooted up further on the bed, wanting to rest on my pillow and grab the glass of water beside my bed to drink. Reaching for my glass, I caught sight of the clock; it was 2:15. That meant that I must've been asleep for about fourteen hours! Still, I felt like I could sleep for another ten; so that's what I did. At least, that's what I was hoping to do.
"Demi, you ready? Hey, wake up."
I felt Mike nudging me on the side, but I didn't feel like getting up, so I continued to lay there instead.
"Damn, maybe you really did get it worse this time. I can't have you falling asleep, Demi, not when you have a concussion. C'mon, I need you to stay awake for me."
Now, Mike took matters into his own hands and took the blankets off of me, forcing me to sit up. I opened my eyes and put my face in my hands, still feeling absolutely exhausted.
"Alright, we're going now. Let's go," he said, tugging at my arm for me to walk. Reluctantly, I got up, holding onto his arm for support as we walked out of our bedroom and down the stairs to the door.
Having reached the garage, Mike hit the button to open up the door and the sun burst in, filling the whole room. Immediately, I shut my eyes, still sensitive to the light.
"I have your glasses in the car; don't worry," Mike said, leading me towards the car.
He opened the door, helping me to step in, and then shut it behind me. I grabbed my seatbelt and buckled in as Mike went back around to get into the driver's seat. "Here you go," he said, handing me my sunglasses.
"Thanks," I said, and I put them, resting my head back into the chair.
"Don't lay back, Demi. I don't want you falling asleep. Remember what the doctor said last time."
I remembered it all very clearly. After I went in to get my ct scan, the doctor decided to tell us what we should do if it ever happened again, to avoid further trauma and what not. He seemed to stress only two things: the next time I had a concussion, it could be worse, and don't let the person with a possible concussion fall asleep, the could go into a coma and suffer further brain damage. Remembering this, I sat back up and tried to stay awake.
"Good, stay with me, Demi," Mike said, driving away; and that was the last time I heard him speak before we entered the hospital.
"Mr. and Mrs. Johnson? We are ready for you."
The nurse walked us into our room and had us situated, staying only for a moment so that she could go and get us a doctor.
"You feeling any better yet,"Mike asked, putting his arm around my waist as we waited.
"No, not at all," I replied simply, wishing the day would just end.
Moments later, the silence was interrupted by a knocking on our door.
"Come in!" Mike called out, and the door swung open immediately.
In came the doctor, donned in hospital garb with a clipboard in hand. He approached the two of us, taking a seat on the rolling chair, and held his hand out for us to shake. "Hello, I'm Dr. Stevens, nice to meet you."
We both smiled and shook his hand before he continued,"So what happened here?"
Immediately, almost a little too fast, Mike responded,"We were out hiking earlier up a rocky mountain and Demi lost her footing and slipped. She had to have fallen about 15 feet or so down the slope before she stopped rolling."
"That must've been quite scary, wouldn't you admit, Mrs. Johnson?" Dr. Stevens said with suspecting eyes.
I looked up from staring at the floor and said,"Yes, very."
There was a momentary pause where none of us said anything at all. Dr. Stevens jotted down a few things on his clipboard and then hesitated before speaking again. Putting his clipboard down and standing up, he turned to Mike and said,"Mr. Johnson, would you be so kind as to wait outside for a moment. There's a few things I would like to ask Demi in private. It will only be a few minutes."
Dr. Stevens stood there with an arm outstretched, leading the way to the door, for a few moments before Mike reluctantly got up and agreed. Before leaving, he turned to me with glaring eyes, as if warning me not to reveal the unmentionable, and kissed me on the cheek forcefully with a,"See you in a little bit, hun."
Closing the door behind Mike, Dr. Stevens resumed his place in the wheelie chair. "So, Demi, how about you tell me what really happened?"
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