Thirteen

[TW-this story discusses psychological manipulation by a trusted source]

The Amazing Dr. M

Dr. Mieczyslawski, or Dr. M. as he was generally called, was deep in his own thoughts when he bumped into Nurse Bailey as he rounded a corner on the hospital floor. He was early for his shift, but had wanted to stop in and see how Angelinamarie Carter was doing before he had office hours. Technically, she wasn’t his patient anymore. But he still made time to check up on her progress. When she was first admitted, there was nary a day that went by that he didn’t visit her. Nowadays, the visits were less often, but he still dropped in to see her at least twice a week.

“Hrumph,” he exclaimed, and glared at the nurse.

“Oh, thank you, doctor,” Nurse Bailey said, as he bent to pick up a patient chart she had dropped. Retrieving the wayward document, a vial fell from his pocket and rolled a few feet away. She scurried to grab the vial before it rolled further, and handed it to him, noticing how quickly he put it back into his jacket pocket.

“My apologies, Dr. M. I didn’t see you. Are you here to visit our girl?”

“Yes. Have there been any changes?” He was almost curt, which was the all-business tone he tended to use, as if time was short.

“No, everything is status quo. I did PT with her this morning, really worked those muscles, and no response. I dare say, she looks remarkably toned for having been in a coma for thirteen long years. We keep working with her, but I don’t know how much longer she can hang on.”

“Hmmm. Well, that’s your job. Keep at it. For as long as she is a patient here.”

Nurse Bailey was taken aback by the reprimand.

“You know, other than us nurses, you are pretty much her only visitor these days. Even her parents hardly come by anymore. It’s so sad.”

Dr. Mieczyslawski detected an ounce of sarcasm in the nurse’s statement. Rather than put Nurse Bailey in her place, he thought it better not to engage her on the subject. The last thing he wanted was to provoke more questions.

When Angelinamarie was first brought to the hospital, the nurses openly admired his dedication to a coma patient. As a psychiatrist, Angelinamarie had originally sought his advice on dealing with a personal matter. He was treating her, but once she had slipped into a coma, he logically had to relinquish her care to the proper medical staff.

After a while, as he maintained a regular visitation schedule - week after week, month after month, stretching into years - the questions started. Rumors. Speculation. What was he doing at her house that night? How did she, a healthy young female, fall into a coma so suddenly? And why does he obviously care so much?

He had heard the rumors, and ignored them as silly gossip amongst the lowly nurses. When he was brought before the medical board, he had answered all the questions satisfactorily and was even recognized for going above and beyond the call of duty. He was the professional. Admired by his peers. Almost a celebrity. The nurses were tantamount to little gnats, that he could swat away if they were too bothersome.

Eventually, he stopped hearing the rumors and assumed they were put to bed.

But after thirteen years, the undercurrent of the gossip remained. No longer openly discussed, but privately murmured behind closed doors.

Dr. M. stopped at the door marked “13” and nodded to Nurse Bailey. She nodded in return, lips pursed, and continued on to the nurses’ station.

“Busybody,” he muttered as he entered the room. “Lucky thirteen,” he whispered, gently closing the door to her room.

The Awakening (Part one)

Angelinamarie’s case tugged at him every waking moment. It’s not that he didn’t have other patients, but none like her. From the day she entered his office, all those years ago, she took his breath away. Her raven black hair and violet blue eyes… He had tried to stay in the clinical lane, but it had been a challenge.

Moving to her bedside, he sat in the nearby chair, and reached for her hand, as he had done so many times before. “Angelinamarie,” he whispered. Her name rolled off his tongue. It was music. He said it again, this time with an accent. Romantic. What a name! Thirteen letters long. That’s what had given him the idea. It had been easy, almost too easy.

Breathe in. He counted to four, taking a moment to reflect on his brilliant plan. She could never leave him now. Exhale.

He gently rubbed her hand, bending his head to bring her palm to his lips. It was wrong, he knew, and jerked his head back upright.

Someone might see, like that busybody nurse, he thought.

Angelinamarie lay perfectly still in her hospital bed.

“You’re sleeping peacefully. Like an angel. And that stupid nurse is right about something – you look remarkable. All that PT work is paying dividends. Even if you aren’t aware. Your hair – she must have cut it. You look wonderful. For our anniversary. Do you remember? It’s exactly thirteen years ago since I was at your house and you took ill. December 13th. Remember?”

Her hand flinched. Dr. M felt the tiny motion. Or at least he thought he did.

“How about you try that again – can you move your hand?”

Angelinamarie flinched ever so slightly. He put his hand on hers, so she could feel his warmth.

Then he reached for the vial in his pocket.

The Patient

Thirteen years ago, Angelinamarie Carter suffered a series of unfortunate events that rocked her world. Within a matter of months, her younger brother, who had just turned thirteen, had died in a horrific accident, her boyfriend at the time had broken up with her and she lost her job. Reeling, she had sought professional help to deal with all the negativity in her life, and landed in the office of a Dr. Mieczyslawski. She instantly liked his easy-going manner and had become a patient.

Being vulnerable, Dr. M, whom she secretly took to calling Dr. Marvelous, exerted quite a bit of influence over her. At first the sessions were light-hearted and she looked forward to her appointments, but after a while, things started to change. She became a bit uneasy about some of the subjects discussed in their talks.

Dr. M delved into her childhood …every detail. Even to the point as to why she was given such a long first name – Angelinamarie. Thirteen letters. How could her parents do that to her? If she was bullied in school, it was most likely because of her name. He insinuated it was a cruelty perpetrated by her parents, not the other kids. Angelinamarie began to feel like Dr. M. was trying to build a wedge between her and her parents. She thought about stopping their sessions.

That’s when the pills first started. To ease anxiety, help her sleep. Then the paranoia started to set in. She needed help, guidance. Perhaps, Dr. M was right. She began to see his point of view.

They discussed the details about her brother dying at thirteen. Thirteen. It was a painful subject. Was that her fault? He died on March 13th. Thirteen became her curse. Almost everything bad that had happened in her life could be tied to that number. According to Dr. M.

He’s right, she thought. It was like they were playing the game “6 Degrees to Kevin Bacon,” only in her case, it was “13 Degrees to Angelinamarie’s Tragic Life”.

Within months, Angelinamarie was hiding at home on the thirteenth of every month, convinced that something tragic would happen if she ventured outside.

Dr. M. diagnosed her as suffering from triskaidekaphobia, an irrational fear of the number thirteen. It was an official diagnosis – he even wrote an article that was published in Psychology Today about an anonymous patient with an extreme case of triskaidekaphobia. It boosted his profile. After the article was published, he was celebrated as an expert in extreme phobias, often sought for his opinion.

Angelinamarie was embarrassed by her so-called affliction. She felt that things associated with the number thirteen had destroyed her life. Dr. M. vowed he would cure her, so she remained his patient.

The night – December 12th

Tonight is one of the toughest nights.

Angelinamarie knew this night was different. Her fear was more palpable, more real, than in the past. She didn’t know exactly why, but it was worse than usual. Dr. M. had said it was because the Gregorian, International Fixed and the Lunisolar calendars were in sync this year – all hitting December 13th on the same day. A convergence.

The power of thirteen had been multiplied by three. That seemed to make sense, sort of. She had long given up questioning his reasoning - he was the expert.

He upped her medication so she could deal with the ‘convergence of thirteens’ - a term he coined.

Angelinamarie was terrified. She didn’t feel safe, even in her own home, as she waited for the clock to hit midnight.

Sweat graced her brow as she sat in the overstuffed armchair in her living room. She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders and listened. Tick…tock…tick…tock… Her shoulders gave an involuntary shudder with every sound, in keeping with the rhythm of the grandfather clock in the hallway. Tick…tock…

The ticking of the clock was the only sound rattling around inside the old farmhouse. She had thought about letting the clock wind down, so the pendulum didn’t swing, to do away with the insufferable sound, but that would only make it worse. Then, she would have to guess the hour.

She thought about playing her favorite radio station at sufficient volume to drown out the clock, but that, too would lead her to guess the time. At least, by listening to the incessant ticking, she reasoned that she would know the exact minute the clock struck midnight.

It’s better to know…it’s better to know. That was the mantra swirling around in her head, as she sat.

“Five more minutes, and then what tragedy will happen? I guess I’ll be the first to find out.”

Her voice sounded strange as it broke the silence and seemed to echo around the room. Angelinamarie closed her eyes and began counting the ticks of the clock, still matched by the tics of her body.

Tick…tock…tick…tock. She shuddered.

Three minutes to go. It was 11:57 pm.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the front door. Paralyzed with fear, Angelinamarie didn’t move.

Tick…tock…tick…tock. She shuddered. 11:58.

Breaking glass. Forced entry. Angelinamarie screamed, but stayed stationary, staring into space, not comprehending.

Dr. M. ran into the living room and bundled his arms around her. Then the vial, a needle...

She looked at him. “What are you doing? What….”

“I know,” he whispered. “I know. Give it a second. You belong with me.”

Tick…tock…tick…tock. 11:59.

“M…Marvelous,” Angelinamarie whispered as she shuddered along with the time, her eyes closed.

The Westminster Chime started playing from the grandfather clock. Top of the hour. It was now December 13th. Angelinamarie passed out, limp in Dr. M’s arms.

He carried her to the sofa, his physician training taking over. Her heart was racing, her body - ice cold. He quickly located her bedroom, and grabbed a few more blankets, which he gently placed on top of her. She was breathing, but it was shallow and erratic. He stabilized her as best as he could. Then he called the emergency number and requested an ambulance.

The Awakening (Part two)

Her hand flinched again.

I have to hurry, Dr. M. thought, as he readied the needle. Not much time.

Just then, a knock and the door opened. Nurse Bailey entered. Dr. M had just enough time to place the needle and vial back in his pocket. He didn’t think she saw.

A moan. Eyelids fluttered. Nurse Bailey hurried to Angelinamarie’s bedside.

“Did you see that?” she asked Dr. M. “She moved! I saw her eyelids move! And her hand!”

She pressed the call button and instructed the nurse at the main station to call the doctors on duty tending to Ms. Carter, patient in room 13. Urgent. Coma patient was coming out of long-term coma.

But Nurse Bailey was puzzled. Why hadn’t Dr. M. pressed the call button? He was smiling now, sure. Looking happy. But his face was dark when she had first entered the room. Just for a second. She was sure he wasn’t at all happy about the interruption.

In a few seconds, Room 13 was crowded with several nurses and doctors. Thirteen years in a coma and the patient was seemingly coming out of it – waking up! This was exciting news. Everyone wanted to see. Angelinamarie was a spectacle.

Dr. Murray made his way through the crowded room. He ushered everyone out, except Nurse Bailey. “I need to examine the patient,” he said. “Everyone, please leave to give us room.”

Dr. M. remained seated.

Angelinamarie moaned. Ever so slowly, she was regaining consciousness. Her eyes, first slits, squinted in the light. Nurse Bailey dimmed the overhead lights and Angelinamarie began to focus on the people in the room with her.

She gasped, then smiled. Looking at Dr. M, the word “marvelous” escaped her lips.

“It’s a miracle!” Nurse Bailey cried.

Dr. Murray continued his examination. Normal heartrate, normal breathing, temperature, reflexes. All normal. Nurse Bailey annotated her chart as Dr. Murray relayed the vital statistics.

Finishing the cursory examination, Dr. Murray started questioning Angelinamarie.

“Do you know what day, or year this is?”

“I haven’t a clue,” was her answer. “Depends on how long I have been asleep.”

“Do you know where you are?”

Angelinamarie wrinkled her nose. “Quite clearly in a hospital. White coats. Antiseptic smell. Horrible.”

“Last question, for now, then you can get some rest. Do you know who you are?”

“Yes. Angie Carter. Officially my first name is Angelinamarie, but Angie makes much more sense. Don’t you think, Dr. M?” she asked, as she looked him square in the eyes.