I'm awakened yet again, and this time it's by the kind voice of an older gentleman. He sounds a little bit like my grandpa, but my grandpa's been dead for many years. Maybe I've actually died and now I'm in heaven meeting my deceased relatives.

I open my eyes to see a gentle face, a man of around sixty years. He doesn't look a thing like my grandpa.

"Hello, Sarah. I'm Dr. Fischer." I force a small smile. "I'm sorry this happened to you," he continues. "I assure you that I did everything possible to save your leg, but there was too much damage." I choke back the tears as the doctor goes on. Ugh, I hate crying! But suddenly I'm completely unable to control my emotions. "The good news is that your left leg should be as good as new in a few weeks. Your right leg is healing nicely, above the amputation. You're a healthy young lady."

"Sure, a healthy young lady who will never walk again," I mutter.

"I know this must be terrible for you, and again, I'm very sorry. But there are many ways for you to lead a normal life without a flesh and bone leg. There are amazing prosthetic limbs that can help you walk, just like a real leg."

I tune him out after the word prosthetic. I've heard all I can handle for one day. It doesn't matter how great the advances in modern medicine are, I still have no right leg.

Once the doctor is gone, my mom leaves for a few moments to grab some lunch from the cafeteria. I know she worries about leaving me alone, but I'll be fine. I need a few minutes to myself anyway.

I find the bed control button and ease myself up into a sitting position. Mustering all the courage I can, I look down at my legs. Well, my one and a half leg. I'm covered by a thin white blanket, but I can make out the outline of my entire left leg, and then what remains of my right leg. I reach under the blanket and I run my hand down along the outer side of my right thigh. When I reach the bottom of my thigh, where my knee would be, I stop.

My leg is really gone, from the knee down.

I tentatively move my hand across the bottom of the stump and wince because, even with all the bandages and pain medications, it's still tender. Or maybe I'm just imagining the pain because it should hurt like hell. I continue to move my hand up the inside of my thigh and then fall back against the pillows. My ears are ringing, my neck and chest are becoming uncomfortably hot, and I feel an intense wave of nausea. I close my eyes and take several deep breaths. In through my nose, out through my mouth. In through my nose, out through my mouth.

"Um, hi," I hear a gentle knock on the door and a smooth voice. I open my eyes to see a young man who must be about my age. He has a goatee and a charming smile. He's not wearing a doctor's coat or scrubs. He just has a hospital-issued name tag that reads ICU 3. I reach for my ice water to take another sip, but my hands are still shaking too much for me to grip the cup.

"Here, let me help you," the stranger says. He holds the straw to my mouth so that I can take a drink. Then I close my eyes again. The feeling of faint is almost past.

I breathe in through my nose, out through my mouth.

"How are you?" The mellow voice continues. He leans over to leave an airy kiss on my forehead.

Not quite certain that I won't throw up, I respond with minimal effort. I give him a thumbs up and he smiles when I finally look at him. That's when I recognize his sky blue eyes.

"Ethan," I whisper.

"Yeah. That's me." I can tell the words get caught in his throat.

I just nod.

"I wanted to see how you're doing."

"Well, I'm down one leg. Otherwise, I'm doing great," I say. And then I remember, it's because of him that I'm still alive.

"Thank you for helping me," I say, my voice still crackling from thirst. "That can't possibly be enough to tell you-" I start to get emotional again and curse the damn pain medication. Then again, I'm sure I'd be crying a lot harder without it.

"Hey," he says, putting his hand on my arm. The warm weight of it calms me down. "I'm just glad I was there at the right time," he smiles. "Happy to help out. But I'm really sorry about what happened to you." He seems to search for the right word. I mean, what can he possibly say to a girl who just had her leg chopped off?

He finally ventures, "Are you...okay?"

"I guess so," I answer. What am I supposed to say? Well, my life as I knew it is now over and I'll never be the same again but, hey thanks for stopping by. I just look down at my hands. Quietly I ask, "I puked on you, didn't I?"

Ethan laughs softly and confirms, "Yup. That you did."

"Sorry," I smile sheepishly. And then I laugh, too. It's a relief after crying so much.

He pulls up a chair next to the bed. "I'm really glad you're okay. You look great."

It occurs to me then that I've been lying in a bed for five days, and before that, I'd been sledding for hours. I have no idea what I look like right now. I must be a pale-faced, greasy-haired mess.

And there's a guy sitting next to my hospital bed. He's not my type or anything, but he's young and attractive and I'm always polished and put together. But right now, I'm so far from being polished and put together that I'm not sure if I ever will be again. I shake off my small streak of vanity and reply, "Thanks."

"You're welcome," he answers. "Like I said, I'm thankful that I was there at the right time."

"So, do you live here in Lansing?" I ask, hoping to talk about something other than the accident.

"I live in Portland. It's a nice little town about 30 miles west of Lansing. But I work here in town, on the west side."

"I know where Portland is," I tell him. "I grew up in Charlotte. My mom and dad still live there, but I live in the dorms at Michigan State."

"What are you studying?"

"I have a dual major in International Business and Spanish."

"Aah, so you're planning on becoming a manager at a fast food place then," he says with a smirk playing at his lips.

"Shut up!" I tell him, while I pretend to be offended, but I crack a half smile. I find it nice to talk to someone who isn't delivering some terrible news.

"I actually have a grand plan," I continue. I pause for a moment and then timidly admit, "Well, I don't have a grand plan just yet, but I'm almost fluent in Spanish, and I know I've got a head for business. My mom is from Mexico, so I've spoken Spanish for most of my life. And I want to be able to do a job that enables me to travel. That's enough to start with, right?"

Ethan smiles. "I'm sure you'll be great at whatever you choose to do. You have a lot of guts, that's for sure."

"I sure don't feel like it at the moment. I don't exactly want to face my life like this," I say, motioning to my missing leg.

"You were very brave when I first met you. The thing about courage is that you don't think you'll have the guts to do something until it's staring you in the face. And you, my friend, had a lot of guts the other day," he says again. "I'm glad you chose to stay with me."

I give him a confused smile because I'm not quite sure what he means by that. I didn't really choose anything. I had focused on him for as long as I could, and then I passed out.

Ethan and I talk for a bit more and then my mom re-appears and informs me, "Daddy's flight is coming in to Detroit Metro in a few hours. I'm sorry, mija, but I'm going to have to leave you for a little while. Sam should be here later, but I'm not sure what time her classes finish."

"I can stay for the evening," Ethan offers as my mom walks over to hug him.

"Thank you, Ethan. That would be great," my mother accepts his offer without consulting me. "I'll give Sam a call, too," she tells me.

She turns back to me. "Daddy is so sorry that he couldn't get here sooner. He's been tied up in meetings in Brussels for days."

Sure, the stupid meetings are more important than his daughter getting run over by a truck, I think. But then I decide I won't even go there. I've spent enough time being mad at my dad to last me a lifetime.

Ethan and I spend a long while talking. Again, I find it a pleasant distraction from everything I've been through in the past day or two. Talking about school and life in Lansing is a little more light than the heavy reality of my current situation.

My dinner comes eventually. I offer to share it with Ethan, but he refuses, which is no surprise.

"If you don't mind," he says, "I'll go to the cafeteria and grab something so we can have dinner together. Does that sound okay?"

Of course, I tell him that's fine, so he heads to the cafeteria and comes back with a juicy hamburger.

I chat a little bit about my classes while he starts on his hamburger. "I'm bummed that I missed my midterms," I tell him.

"Yeah, you told me about that when we were at the hill."

I laugh. "Did I? That sounds like me. I've always been kind of obsessive about studying. I'm a little bit of a perfectionist."

Ethan takes note of the chicken-something on my plate that I've hardly touched. "You're not hungry?" He asks.

"I am actually quite hungry, but this barely passes for food," I sigh.

Ethan grabs a plastic knife off of my tray, cuts the burger in two and places half in front of me.

I offer him another half smile. "You didn't have to do that. I doubt I'll even be able to eat much. But thanks."

"No problem," he smiles back.

He's kind of cute, I think, but still not my type. My mind drifts back to my appearance for a moment, like it actually matters at this point. I'm a greasy-haired, one-legged girl who just begged half of his food. But I can't complain since it's nice to have someone here with me.

Sam shows up a while later, as my mom predicted.

"Hi Ethan," she greets him with a hug.

"Hi Sam, how's it going?" He replies.

With a bit of surprise, I say, "Oh, you two know each other?" What follows is a moment of grim realization. "Oh, yeah, of course you do."

They met on the day that I almost died.

We all chat for a bit, conveniently avoiding the sensitive topic of my accident and my missing leg. Then Ethan decides to take off.

"Thanks for coming to visit," I say sincerely. "And for staying to keep me company. I'm sure you have better things to do, but it was nice to have someone to talk to."

He leans over my head and gives me a kiss on my hair. My greasy, matted hair. "It was my pleasure, Sarah."

As soon as he's gone, I give Sam a panicked glance, "What do I look like?! I haven't looked in a mirror since before the accident, and I'm sure my hair is flat and my face is shiny, and...."

Sam envelopes me in a bear hug without saying anything in response to my question. Her long red strands of hair tickle my nose and my lip.Then I feel her body shaking with uncontrollable sobs.

"Sam?"

No reply comes from her, only more sobbing.

"Sam, what's wrong?"

Sam pulls away, sniffling and snorting. "My best friend almost died, that's what's wrong! And you lost your leg and I was never so scared in my life!" A new round of sobbing threatens to choke her. "And it's all my fault!" She says in a small squeaky voice.

"What are you talking about?"

"Sarah, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. I'm the one who forced you to go down the hill that one last time. If I hadn't been so pushy, everything would be all right. Everyone blames me, and I will never forgive myself!"

"Did everyone say they blame you?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"No, but I just know they do."

"Well, Sam, none of that is true," I tell her. "It's not your fault that I took that last run on the hill. You can be persuasive, but I can resist you when I want to. So, please don't ever say that again, okay? This was not your fault!"

She doesn't look very convinced. "But what if I had just agreed to go back and get some hot chocolate like you suggested? You would be fine and we'd be sitting in our dorm room watching Supernatural."

This is true. There are many ways this could have been avoided. But I learned a long time ago to not dwell on the past since there is absolutely no way to go back and change it. All I have in front of me is the future. So I have to make the best of it.

I don't exactly feel empowered by this small realization, but I say it to Sam anyway. "Sam, it happened. It's done. I don't blame you, and no one else does either. So please just stop being so hard on yourself, okay?"

She takes a deep breath and finally agrees, "Okay."

Then she abruptly changes the subject. "So, Ethan is cute, hey?"

"What?" I laugh. "I've been in the hospital for five days and you've been crushing on my rescuer."

"No!" She snaps. "I meant for you. I mean, he did save your life. It's kind of romantic."

"Okay, weirdo. I bled all over him. I puked on him. I haven't had a shower in days. And in case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly in a position to pursue a relationship right now." My voice drops lower, almost to a whisper. "Besides, who's going to want a girl with one leg? Everyone is going to look at me like a freak now."

I am a freak.

* * * * *

Hey, I decided to go for a double update! Enjoy!