Jenny

I've heard people say, "Oh, my! There are no words (for how I feel)! Thank you so much," when they've received a special gift or surprise. They're so happy that they find trouble expressing their joy with words. They jump around a lot, they laugh, they hug, they cry. Eventually, though, they do find their words. The same is true when they're sad, angry, or just excited and speechless.

For me, "There are no words", is now my literal. When that branch hit the side of my head, it took away my ability to express myself.

Aphasia.

That is the name of the condition I now have; Aphasia.

To be more specific, the kind of Aphasia I have is called Broca's Aphasia. In a nutshell, it means that I have everything I had before the accident. I cannot express myself like I used to, though. I can't get out into words the ideas that are in my head. If people speak slow enough, I can still understand everything that is spoken to me. I can also understand what's going on around me. I can think and comprehend. I can't talk back, however. I open my mouth to speak and just as the words leave my brain to reach my mouth they're suddenly stolen. Here one second, gone the next.

For whatever reason, I'm also having trouble with my writing.

Sitting in the hospital bed, I discover just how different my life has become because of Aphasia.

I want to go over to the windowsill. There's a nest of baby birds on it and I want to see them. The trouble is, there's an IV in my arm and I'm wearing a heart monitor on my finger. Also, the rails of my bed are up so I don't fall out of it. I want to move the bed rails down without ripping out my IV. It's a challenge and I'm having a hard time. I guess my balance is still off because I get a little dizzy while rustling around with myself. I'm going to try, though. I just want to do this. It's not too much to want to see some birds, right? I've been cooped in this sterile hospital environment for days. I just need to see a little bit of nature and I'll be happy.

As usual, once I get an idea in my head, I start off towards doing it, no matter what.

I twist and tug and pull to no avail. Damn bed rails! What do they have in place to hold them up? Why can't I get them to go down? Where's that stupid button the nurse used to make them move?

I'm careful, or so I think, and keep trying, but somehow I end up yanking on my IV the wrong way and the thing pulls loose. The next thing I know, the bed rails give way and I'm bleeding and laying on the floor. I landed on my shoulder and if I were a cartoon, I'd be seeing stars. That hurt like the bajeezus.

I get so frustrated and mad at myself for falling out of bed that I start to cry. Making matters worse, I'm starting to feel woozy. My stomach doesn't feel so good. A hot flash runs through me and I suddenly realize that I have to get to the bathroom before I throw up all over myself, or something worse, while laying on this floor.

Just then, Nurse Shore runs into my room and finds me lying in a heap of sheets on the linoleum. It's the end of her shift and I can tell she's had a long day. She looked all done in and ready to fly out of the hospital a half hour ago when she was last here to look in on me. My laying in a pile on the floor just cost her a speedy exit. Consequently, she starts yelling at me. I try to respond back; to defend myself. Meanwhile, Nurse Shore is calling for help. A male nurse comes into my room and they start talking about me as if I'm not even there. Just because I can't speak coherently doesn't mean I'm deaf, I want to tell them. I can hear everything they say. They don't even try to ask me what happened, they just get to work around me.

Suddenly, amidst the commotion and all of the people, my IV machine tips over and on its way, hooks onto a ring that suspends the privacy curtain around my bed. The weight of the machine tears it and in an instant, the cloth is coming down around us. A metal prong from the curtain gets caught in my hair and I scream. Both nurses, and now an aide from the hallway, rush towards me to help. I feel my hair being yanked at the roots and wince in pain. My hands go to the side of my head as tears escape my eyes.

I cry out to them, "I have to go to the bathroom!" Those are the words I yell in my head. The only sounds I manage, however, are, "I...ha...gah...bat...um". Nurse Shore looks at me and growls in frustration, "What did you say?"

Of course, I try to repeat myself. I know that I made no sense the first time.

"Bat...I...bat...um." The light behind her eyes never comes on.

"Help me get her back into bed, Kogan," she says. "I don't know what she was thinking, climbing down outta bed like that."

Again, I try to talk to them, "Bat...um! Bat um! I bat um!" I can feel my chest tighten up and now my stomach is rolling. I feel like I'm going to be sick. I really need to get to the bathroom. The idea of getting back into my bed, when I am so close, drives my temper up. Instead of letting the nurses get me back into my bed, I fight them.

"Bat um! Bat um! I go batting! BATTING!" I'm yelling at the top of my lungs, but they aren't listening to me anymore. Kogan is picking me up and placing me unceremoniously into my bed while the nurse calls for more help. I thrash around, trying to get them to let me up, but they're not having it.

"Young Lady, calm yourself or we are going to give you a sedative. Is that what you want? Do we have to restrain you?" she yells at me, while holding my arms down. She's yanking on the bed rails so hard, they vibrate the bed. I clutch my stomach in an attempt to keep it together. I'm going to be sick.

No, please, I think to myself. Just let me get to the bathroom.

I can't believe they're doing this to me. I can't breathe. I start to hyperventilate. Everyone is a whirl around me; yelling at each other, cursing under their breath. Before I can stop it from happening, I soil myself and the sheets. I look down in humiliation at the mess I've made. The nurse takes one look at what I've done and starts hollering all over again.

"Now look what you've done! How could you? There's a bedpan right here!" she admonishes, picking up a cursed kidney-bean-shaped pan and dropping it back down on the table beside me.

I'm so angry, I pick it up and throw it across the room. I yell, "I bat ru!" and point to the bathroom as loud as I can. It doesn't matter, though, the damage is done. Within minutes, they're injecting my IV with something to knock me out. From a distance, I feel them cleaning me up but it's too late. I'm going down for the count.

As I drift off I realize that I never did get to see those baby birds.

Jenny

Later, I open my eyes. Grams is in the corner of my room. She was asleep in a visitor reclining chair near my bed, but her eyes flutter when she hears me stir.

"Jenny, my Jenny dear." I hear her cry. She brings a tissue out from her purse and wipes her eyes. "I heard what happened. I'm so sorry I wasn't here. What were you thinking?"

Seeing my grandmother like this opens a wound I didn't know I had. I've made my grandmother cry. All I wanted to do was go to the bathroom. Before I can stop myself, I'm in tears as well. I feel my grandmother's arms come around me and we hold each other until our eyes run dry.

At some point, my grandmother sniffles and leans back. She sits down quietly on my bed, next to me.

"I've called Uncle Artair, Jenny," she whimpers. "I don't know what to do. I...I know you need more help than Gramps and I can give you...." I hear her words and my heart goes to my throat. She keeps on, but I miss some of it along the way. I need her to slow down so I can understand her better.

What's she trying to tell me?

"I am going to miss you very much," she sobs.

I'm shaking my head. I don't want her to finish. She's going to send me away. No, she can't do this.

"I know it's not what you want to hear, Jenny, but Uncle Artair, he's going to be here tomorrow. His wife Ciara is coming, too. They're going to take you..."

No! No! No! This can't be happening. It was just a stupid tree branch. We were just playing a game. I was having fun. Walker and I just shared our first kiss. No! I can't leave. I can't leave this place! Not again; I can't lose the people I love again.

"...Uncle Artair is a speech language pathologist. He can help you. He can help you get better, Jenny."

I'm still shaking my head when the tears start to fall again.

"Gooo...I...goo" I try to tell Grams that I'll be good; that I'll do better. That I won't cause any more trouble for the nurses, for anyone. Anything.

I want to stay at the cabin. I can't move now. Not after everything else. No! I can't.

I look up at my grandmother and see her heart breaking along with mine. She's dabbing tears from her cheek with a careworn handkerchief embroidered with small, green shamrocks. It's then I realize; I can't fight her. I want to. I want to fight her so bad on this, but I can't hurt her like that.

"...with the Aphasia, I just don't know what to do about it. He'll help you, Jenny. He will, you'll see," Grams continues on, but I am drained. Suddenly, I just want to go back to sleep. I give my grandmom a smile. I know it's weak, but it's all I have left.

"K," I stutter.

Grams dabs her eyes and pats my hand. "That's a good girl. Tomorrow, Jenny. Uncle Artair will be here tomorrow. You'll love his house. Lots of nice neighbors, good people, they are. You'll see. And, we'll come visit you, Jenny. Gramps and I; we will come see you as often as we can."

It feels like I've lost my family all over again. Sure, I'll have Uncle Artair and Aunt Ciara. I love them both, but to live with them? Permanently? Of course, there's also Deaglán, my cousin. He and I have always been close, but we've never lived near one another. Everything and everyone else I love is here.

When tomorrow comes, my grandparents are there to see me off. They load me into Uncle Artair's truck with a hug and kiss and more promises to visit as soon as possible. Uncle Artair had already been by our cabin before getting me at the hospital. All of my things are in the bed of his pick-up. They tell me there is no need for us to go back to the cabin.

"Yes," I want to say, "there are a million reasons to take me back."

My home, my lake, my life! Walker. Oh my goodness, Walker! Why didn't he come to the hospital? Where is he? Will anyone ever tell me?

As we pull away from the hospital parking lot, I lean my head against the side of the extended cab window. It's cool to the touch and reminds me of the state of my heart. Aunt Ciara is trying to be positive. She's telling me all the great things about where they live; their neighborhood gym, the pet therapy service she knows I'll want to get involved in.

I don't care, though.

I watch the road as we drive away from everything I call home. Traveling down the highway, I watch the trees thin out, and say goodbye everything I know and love.

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Photography Copyright 2018 A. E. F.

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