Chapter 1 - Waking Up

There was a boy at the end of the hall in the ICU that lay alone in his bed for two weeks before he started to show signs of coming out of his coma. The swelling in his brain receded but he remained heavily drugged with oxygen support for another three weeks as his body fought off kidney and lung infections and his internal injuries began to mend. By the end of the sixth week his twenty-seven broken bones were healing well as was the deep bruising covering much of his body. Going into the seventh week of his stay, even though he was still in a cervical collar, an assessment of his mental state needed to be made, to further determine his treatment plan.

The young man had drifted in and out of awareness for weeks while heavily medicated in part due to the severity of his injuries but also due to the acute distress he exhibited each time he became alert enough to take in his surroundings. When staff attempted to communicate with him, he did not acknowledge his name and became frantic over his temporary inability to speak. As he became alert more often, they had to eventually secure the young man to his bed to protect him from injuring himself further. It was hoped that now with the boy's jaw no longer wired shut, his cheekbone and nose nearly healed and the bandages and stitches that had crossed the side of his skull removed, he would be calmer when he regained consciousness.

It took almost a full forty-eight hours for the young man to push his way to full consciousness again. It was his ankles and knees pulling at his bindings that caught the nurse's attention, stationed just outside his room. She approached him carefully, as if he were a skittish animal, telling him softly as she gently grasped his hand, "You're ok, Sweetie. You're ok. You were hurt. But you're - healing. I'm one of the nurses that have been looking after you."

He looked up at her worriedly as he continued to feebly pull at his restraints, his forehead puckering in confusion and distress.

She shushed him, explaining, "They're for your own good, Hon. You kept ripping out your IV and stitches! We had to get you to stop moving around so much before you reinjured yourself. But it's ok. It's just temporary - you're healing now."

The young man stared up at her, worry and confusion clearly showing on his face. He glanced around quickly, taking in the medical equipment, the fast beeping machine next to him and the large glass windows. Looking back at her he tilted his head slightly as if to assess the validity of what she was telling him.

Liking the clarity she was seeing in his eyes the nurse squeezed his hand again and exclaimed, "I bet your thirsty! Would you like some ice chips?"

She held eye contact and waited patiently for a response. The boy relaxed slightly back into his hospital bed and breathed out a quiet, "yeah." The nurse smiled brightly at him and said, "I'll be right back!" and bustled out the door.

Upon her return she found him testing each of his restraints and he scowled at her as she told him, "I'm sorry Hon, they can't be removed until the doctor sees you. The good news is I paged him, so he should be here in just a few minutes. Now, why don't we see about getting some ice chips into you, hm?"

He dutifully sucked on the ice chips she slipped between his lips and stopped struggling against his bindings. The young man watched her, with subtle distrust that she sensed, but chose to ignore. Instead, the nurse was attentive, slipping him an ice chip every few moments while she held one of his hands and brightly chatted about what a sunny day it was and how maybe later they could sit him up so he could see out the window.

When the doctor finally arrived he had his head bent over a clipboard and asked without looking up, "So has he said anything?"

"No.. but-" the nurse started.

"I didn't want to be paged unless he was completely conscious and appearing to interact with his environment," the doctor said with a tired sigh as he turned back toward the doorway.

"Wow. Nice...Bedside...Manner," fell haltingly from the recycled hospital air.

The nurse swung her head back to her young charge with a surprised smile and a hopeful gleam in her eye. He gave her a halfhearted smirk before glancing back to the doctor who was slowly turning around to face them.

"I see," the doctor said, clearing his throat and slouching back over his clipboard. He had a pensive expression on his face as he walked closer and made eye contact with the small young man. He took note of the cautious expression being directed his way and asked in a neutral voice, "So, can you tell me where you are?"

"Hospital. ICU?"

"Do you know how you came to be here?"

"Ambulance," the kid said with a ghost of a smile. "But...um, I'm guessing... accident? I - I don't remember," he added, a bit unsure of himself.

The doctor nodded and wrote some notes on his clipboard. When he looked back he very carefully and slowly asked in a measured tone, "Can you tell me anything about what you remember before you woke up here? Anything about yourself? About your family or home maybe?"

With these questions the young man had stiffened and his eyes dulled. The nurse covertly squeezed the hand she was still holding and was about to offer him some more ice chips when the doctor waved her off. He approached the bed further and stood directly over the boy, watching him carefully.

"Does anything come to mind at all?" he asked, taking a gentle approach. "Do you know what year it is?"

The boy gasped then, having inadvertently been holding his breath during his initial distress over the questions. He breathed out and said, "2007? I'm - I'm pretty sure. Depending on how long I've been out."

He glanced over at the nurse still holding his hand and earnestly asked, "Hey, did Obama win?"

She laughed with surprise and relief, and fed him another ice chip, saying, "Yes!"

The doctor looked back and forth between the two of them and wrote a few more notes down on his clipboard before visually assessing the child before him. The young man was beginning to look exhausted.

But still alert enough to want some answers, he asked, "Hey, what happened to me? I hurt. Like - everywhere. And can you let me go?" he asked, weakly pulling at his restraints.

The trepidation mixed with wishful hope pouring from the exhausted kid made the decision for the doctor. After a quick silent conversation with the nurse holding his hand, the doctor put down his clipboard and began to unbuckle the boy's restraints, saying, "As long as you stay in this bed, don't move too much and do what the nurses tell you, I don't see why you can't be released."

"Um, yeah. Not really a problem," the kid huffed with a bit of a laugh, only to gasp out when he tried to lift his arms. "Oh! Wow. That went up the back of my neck."

"Yes. The primary reason you should resist moving too much. Your neck and spinal column were severely bruised during your...er...Hmmm. So, you're wearing a cervical collar to immobilize your neck. Now, I can give you an overview of your injuries, but my specialty is head trauma."

"Yeah, ok. I get it. You're the head guy," the kid said as he shut his eyes, looking completely drained.

"We can do this tomorrow if you'd rather," the doctor offered.

"No, I'd just rather know." the young man said tiredly, but with conviction.

Conferring first with his clipboard the doctor began to rattle off, "You received multiple broken ribs, a punctured lung, ruptured spleen and bruised kidneys and other severe deep tissue bruising. You sustained a skull fracture and bruising to your brain. Your jaw, nose and cheekbones were also broken. Your spinal cord and neck also experienced significant bruising, but no fractures. And, obviously, multiple broken bones to your hands, wrists and arm. You've had five surgeries since you arrived here a little over six weeks ago."

"Man," the kid breathed out mournfully. "They really messed me up."

"Yes, I think that about sums it up," the doctor agreed with a quiet sigh.

Observing that the boy's complexion had begun to take on an ashen pallor he asked, "How is your pain?" as he reached down to check the boy's pulse at his elbow - it being the only available, assessable location he could use.

"Oh, you know," the kid breathed out with a pant. Adding with a short laugh. "Longer you talk - worse it gets. You sure it's not you Doc?"

"Tell you what, we'll pick up this conversation tomorrow after you've gotten some rest, ok?" the doctor offered.

"Yeah, sure," the kid said, already drifting away.