Beeping.

I start to come out of the heavy fog of sleep. I feel like I've been sleeping for days. I must have been exhausted.

Do I have the flu?

My brain feels fatigued from just trying to remember why I might possibly feel like this.

And that nightmare! I've never dreamed about something so vividly before.

As I fight my way back to consciousness, I hear another few beeps and a whoosh. Then it's quiet. A few minutes later, I hear more beeps. Then something is squeezing my arm. More beeps and then it's quiet again.

I have the uneasy feeling that I'm not in my own bed, but I have no idea what's going on. I think I'm still trapped in that freakish nightmare, but now it's shifted to some other drug-laden place where I'm being held against my will.

I try with all my might to open my eyes, to make reality come into focus. They pop open for a minute and then they fall closed again. I force them open, and it seems like some unseen thing slams them shut again. I do this countless times until I manage to keep them open for a few seconds. Or maybe a few minutes? I have no idea how much time passes, and I still have no idea where I am or how long I've been asleep.

Suddenly, my mom's face is right above mine. She's crying and her tears drip onto my cheeks and lips. "It's Mama, mija. Can you hear me?"

Mamá, I'm looking right at you, I think, but I can only manage a tiny nod of my head, which prompts more tears from my mother, which splash onto my nose and cheeks. I wonder if she even realizes that she's crying on me.

She strokes my hair. "Everything is okay, honey. You're in the hospital and the doctors are taking wonderful care of you. Everything is going to be fine."

If everything is fine, then why I am in the hospital?

I can't summon the energy to speak and I'm not yet convinced that this is all a product of my imagination so I just close my eyes and fall back to sleep.

And then...

More beeping. I keep hearing it. I try to turn off my stupid alarm clock. I try to reach over to hit, but it keeps moving just out of my reach.

I urge my eyes to open again, and this time I'm able to look around a bit. My mom hasn't left my bedside, but at least now she's not crying. She just smiles and says, "Hi, mija."

My mother's Spanish kicks in when she's feeling particularly affectionate. When I was little, she would always speak Spanish to me when I was sick, like the time I got strep throat and had to stay in bed for a week. I think I learned more Spanish in that week than during the rest of my life.

I look past my mom and see a bright sunny sky. As I look slowly around the room, I notice flowers and balloons, a whiteboard with the name Rosie written on it, and then I see where the beeping sound is coming from. On my right side, there are several machines, all with little displays beeping and moving.

Why am I in the hospital?

"Mom?" My voice comes out cracked and my throat hurts like crazy.

"Don't try to talk too much, mi pequeña. What do you need?"

"What happened?"

She begins slowly, hesitantly. "You...." She takes a deep breath and continues, "...had an accident...when you were sledding with your friends." Her bottom lip trembles. She closes her eyes, takes another deep breath and continues, "You were hit by a pickup truck." Her voice cracks like mine, and I can see tears forming in her eyes. At least this time they won't drip onto my face.

"I'm alive, though."

My mom laughs, and she seems to relax. "Yes, you're alive, honey."

"Why am I in ICU?" My voice sounds and feels like sandpaper. It seems odd to me that I suddenly know I'm in the Intensive Care Unit even though she hasn't said anything to me about it.

My mom chokes slightly on her words, still trying to regain her composure. "Your left leg had some major cuts and bruising. They had to stitch it in one place and it's really a miracle that it's not broken." She stops after that sentence although I know she hasn't told me everything. She wouldn't be crying so much if I just had a bruised leg.

Her unspoken words hit me harder than the ones she's just said. In a panic, I try to sit up, but I fall back onto my pillow almost immediately. I'm too dizzy, too weak to sit up. I frantically pat down my body, to my right leg.

My mom grabs my hand and starts stroking it. "They couldn't save your right leg. They had to take it." And she begins to sob uncontrollably.

"Take it?" The words tumble from my mouth. "What do you mean take it?" I feel a sickening mixture of fear, laced with anger, burning inside of me, making its way outward to my chest.

They took my leg?!

I become hysterical. "No! They didn't They can't take my leg! There's a mistake! They can't do that!" My voice is almost gone already and I'm squeaking like a little mouse. "No! They can save it, Mom! They have ways to do that!" I start screaming. "This is the twenty-first century, for god's sake! They can't take it! They can't have it!"

Either my mom pushed the nurse call button, or they heard me becoming agitated. Three people in scrubs rush in; one fiddles with the IV bag and the others try to calm me down.

"Why did you take my leg?" I demand, barely controlling my emotions. "Where is my doctor?! I need to talk to him!" I demand, full of indignation.

"Sarah, I'm sorry about what happened to you. I really am," a nurse says to me. "Can you just relax for me? Take a deep breath."

I hear someone telling my mom they're going to give me something to help me calm down.

"No!" I cry. "I don't want to relax! I want my leg back!" I close my eyes and let the tears flow freely. I weep until I'm completely dried out. And then I drift off again, completely against my will, but clinging to hope that, when I wake up the next time, the nightmare will be over.

Sometime later, I wake up again and I wonder how long it's been. Have I been asleep long enough to finally escape from that awful nightmare? I long to feel the pillows in my own bed and my silky comforter. My hands skim the blanket over me. It's definitely not my own bed. I still hear the beeps, but I'm getting used to them. There seems to be a rhythm to them, kind of a comforting rhythm, although they're not constant.

I hate crying, but the tears start before I even open my eyes. It's not a dream; I'm not going to wake up from this horrible reality. I finally push my eyes open once again. I see the same nurse next to my bed, looking at the monitors, writing things down, making small adjustments.

She looks at me and says, "Hi there, I'm Rosie, your nurse. Are you feeling better?"

"No," I grumble, not even caring that my eyes are brimming with tears.

Next, she changes out an empty bag and hooks up a new bag of clear fluid. "I can understand that, honey. It's not easy to deal with what happened to you."

I shrug and I watch her intently, as she unhooks one bag from the tube leading to my arm. She hangs a new bag and attaches the tube to it. "What's that?"

Rosie smiles kindly. "I'm just putting a new bag of fluid in your IV. It keeps you hydrated."

"Then why am I so thirsty?"

"It's very dry in here. Would you like me to get you some ice water?" She asks.

I give her a weak nod.

Rosie disappears and returns in no time, holding a large foam cup with a straw sticking out of it. "I'll hold it while you take a tiny sip. I want to make sure you can handle it. You haven't eaten anything on your own for quite awhile."

I have so many questions, but first, the ice water. I desperately want the ice water. I take a small sip as Rosie instructed. I can feel the icy sensation as it moves all the way down into my stomach. It feels so good, I take another small sip and close my eyes to savor the wonderful feeling.

"How long have I been here?"

"This is your fifth day." Rosie smiles.

"Five days?!" I gasp. I've missed a week of classes!

"You have pain medication coming through here, too," Rosie tells me, motioning to the IV bag. "If you start to feel discomfort, let me know and I'll check with the doctor about giving you more, but for now, it delivers a steady dose."

I nod in understanding as my mom enters the room. She slides onto the edge of the bed and leans to gather me into a hug. "How are you feeling, honey?"

"Dry." I take another sip of ice water. "When can I go home?" Five days seems like a long time already. I hope now that I'm awake, they don't have to watch me as closely anymore.

"It will be a while before you can leave, mija. The doctors have to make sure your leg is healing. Then you need to get strong enough to sit up and move around on your own."

"How long, Mom?" I insist.

"A few weeks."

"What?!" I let out a huge sigh and let my head fall back against the pillows. "I missed midterms, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did, but I spoke to the university and they are making other arrangements for you to take them. When you're ready, of course. You won't really be able to finish this semester."

"We'll see about that," I mumble. I'm a junior at Michigan State University and I've always been studious, for lack of a better term. I hardly ever miss class and my scores are in the 95th percentile.

I can tell my mom wants to disagree with me, but she's not going to say anything while I'm still digesting the news that my leg is gone.

"Has Sam come by? Or Cam and Morgan?" I ask.

"They were all here," my mom assures me. "Sam came in the ambulance with you from the hill, and Cam and Morgan followed. They were here for over 24 hours before I made them go home to get some sleep. Sam checks in every day. In fact, she should be here soon."

"What about Ethan?"

"Ethan?" She asks.

For a moment, I wonder if I had imagined Ethan. Had I made him up instead of facing the horror of having my leg torn off?

"Oh, right, Ethan of course!" She says, slapping her thigh. Her thigh that's perfectly intact, I think bitterly. "He was here for several hours, too. How could I forget about Ethan?" Mom hesitates, and then continues, "He saved your life."

"I thought he almost killed me. Wasn't he driving the truck?"

"Oh, no, no," she says, shaking her head. "Ethan came upon the scene just behind the truck. The police officer told me that Ethan saved...your...life. He put all his weight on your leg, where you were losing the most blood. His quick thinking kept you from...." Tears choke her up again as she tries to finish. "Kept you from...."

I put my hand up to stop her. "I know, Mom."

I know that I could have died.

After a long silence, I tell her, "Ethan was amazing. Everything was so foggy and disconnected, but it felt like he was the only thing that was real. I just kept looking at his eyes. They were blue and for some reason, they kept me calm."

"Well, I thank God that he was there," my mom quietly says, still not able to control the tremble in her voice.

"Yeah, me too," I whisper before dozing off again.

* * * * *

Such a trauma for Sarah :(