Starting Over

            Starting Over

   I received the call that no parent wants to get.

   Evening, ma’am. I’m sorry to report that your daughter has been in an accident. She’s alive but pretty banged up. They’ve transported her to the hospital and she will likely be there overnight.

   As I got ready to race over to the medical center, my mind went through several stages of emotions. First was gratitude…at least she was still alive. Then it shifted to fear. How bad were her injuries? Then anger surfaced. I had warned her to drive carefully as the streets were snow-covered. I had to remind myself to slow down as well. Better to get there safe instead of in an ambulance.

   I rushed up to ICU after getting directions at the front desk.

   “Where’s my daughter?” I called out. “Where is Marilyn?”

   “She is in surgery, Mildred,” Salena said, quietly. “There’s nothing you can do right now except wait. Why don’t we go and sit down?”

   “How bad is it, Salena?” I asked, walking with her to a waiting area.

   “I can’t tell you, Millie. All I know is that they called in the surgeon shortly after she arrived.”

   “I’ve known you a long time. The look on your face tells me it’s bad.”

   “All I can say is that the doctor will speak with you when she finishes operating.”

   The waiting seemed to last for hours. Finally, a young woman in scrubs walked down the hall. She stopped to speak to Salena, who pointed towards me.

   “Will the doctor be out soon?” I asked.

   “Actually, I am Doctor Cameron,” she answered.

   “I’m sorry. You look so young.”

   “I’m used to it. Anyhow, about your daughter…”

   “How is she?”

   “Right now, she is not doing well. She is paralyzed in all of her limbs and…”

   “Paralyzed?”

   My knees began to give way and Doctor Cameron reached out to support me. She helped me back to a chair and then continued.

   “It could just be temporary. We won’t know for a while. She had a big gash on her forehead. We found a little damage near the bottom of the cervical portion of the spine. We are cautiously hopeful that her condition will improve over time.”

   “Thank you, doctor.”

            ***

   Marilyn’s condition did improve, but it was far too slow for my daughter’s liking. She was as impatient as her father had been. As she started to regain control of her limbs, she wanted to go back to the way things were before the accident.

   The frustration started to surface one day when I was cutting up her food. I put a bite of the hamburger on the fork and moved it towards her mouth. She immediately stuck one hand in the way and reached for the fork with her other.

   “I do it.”

   “Okay, honey. You can try.”

   She tried to direct it to her mouth but had trouble with accuracy. The food touched her cheek first, then traveled up to her nose before she was able to locate the correct opening.

   “Spoon.”

   “Spoon, please,” I corrected her.

   She gave me an eye roll in response, but I was determined to keep a handle on her attitude. We had spent close to twenty years clashing over a lot of minor issues. I figured I had the upper hand now.

   “Since you don’t want to mind your manners, you can pick up your spoon yourself.”

   “Fine.”

   She tried hard to grab the spoon but it took her several attempts. Trying to get some applesauce on it did not go well either. Then, when the fruit dropped on her hospital gown, she lost her composure and threw the spoon down.

   My mind went back to her toddler years when this was a common occurrence in our home. I would get mad and we butted heads over how supper would go. When Mark was home, it was a different story. One sharp word from him and tears would start flowing down her chubby cheeks. After a minute or so, he would say, “That’s enough.” and the crying would stop. I never understood why it worked for him and not for me. I decided to try one more time.

   “Hey!” I scowled.

   I was shocked when the tears started flowing.

   “I know that you’re frustrated but that is not the way to react. You’re making a mess that other people have to clean up, not to mention all of the expensive equipment in here that is helping you get better.”

   She tried to wipe her eyes as she apologized. I grabbed a tissue and dried her face. Then I went and retrieved the spoon, washing it in the bathroom sink.

   “Do you want to keep trying or should I help?”

   “You do it.”

   The pout on her face brought on an irresistible urge inside me. I decided to follow through with it.

   “Here comes the little plane with a load of applesauce. We need a landing strip. Over.” I continued by making plane noises.

   A smile appeared on her face and she replied, “Mom.”

            ***

   Eventually, they gave the okay to try walking. She was eager to get started despite the doctor and me warning her to go slow. It didn’t take her long to figure out that it wasn’t going to happen in a day. They took her to therapy and had her try to walk using the horizontal handrails on each side of her.

   The sessions took a lot out of her and her insistence on trying extra times made her muscles sore. Her determination wouldn’t let the pain stop her.

   We were in her room one night when she looked at me and said, “Bathroom.”

   I started over with the wheelchair until I heard, “No…walk.”

   “Are you sure, honey? You’ve worked hard already today.”

   “I try.”

   “Okay. Let me hold your arm.”

   “No! By myself.”

   “Marilyn, I don’t think you’re ready for that yet. You’re still unsteady with the bars to hold onto.”

   She ignored my caution and stood up, sliding one foot forward. As the other foot started forward, she lost her balance and started to fall.

   “Marilyn!”

   Suddenly, I was back in her toddler years again. She was learning to walk and had learned to pull herself up at the coffee table. She started walking towards the fish tank on the other side of the living room but began to fall backward, her head destined to hit the edge of the table.

   I managed to get close enough to keep her from hitting the ground, sliding on my knees to catch her in my arms.

   “May I please help you now?”

   “Yes, please. Sorry.”

   “I know we’re in a hospital but I really don’t want to have a heart attack right now.”

   As we returned from the other room, I helped her back into bed and said, “Just like old times, huh?”

   “Yeah, guess so.”

   I returned to my chair and smiled at her.

   “Mom?”

   “Yes, honey?”

   “Thanks. Love you.”

   “I love you too. Want me to sing you a lullaby?”

   “That would be nice.”

   I went back to her bedside and began running my fingers through her long, blond hair, singing softly the words that had always brought on sleep so many years ago.