Fallen From Grace

One Door Closes Another Opens

Drugged up to my eyeballs and under a lot of medication I remember being quizzed by the police in hospital as he asked one of the most simplest of a question.

"Why did you cross the other side of the road when there was an underpass?"

Well when he put it like that I felt stupid.

"You know," I batted my hand withering uncomfortably. "To get to the other side."

I meant to say quicker but obviously the wrong choices of words came out of my mouth. He remained unimpressed and serious but I was serious. I crossed that road to get home, because I was tired, stressed out of my mind and obviously I didn't know how I crossed but of course I did.

"It was a busy road," he said. "It was the six o clock rush hour."

"I thought I could see a gap in the road."

I told him some of the thoughts I remember thinking he would want to know as he stood at the bottom of the bed with a pad in his hand.

"I wasn't going to cross if I didn't think I could see a gap."

I was in a side room where I had the room all to myself where I don't really remember much. I only remember snippets from that conversation. Once the police were done with me I do remember hearing a Doctor saying he didn't feel right going home without that leg of mine being snapped into place.

"So I'm going to do it," he says.

He prepared me. I didn't think I could be in any more agony.

"Just do it."

If that's what needed to happen. I tried bracing myself knowing that somewhere in my mind it was going to hurt. My parents told me how hard I screamed that night when I resurfaced. Mom said everyone in that entire ward heard but again I was put on so many drugs I was out of it but I do remember learning when I had to pee, I had to do it mid air as six nurses had to lift me because I couldn't move as one of them put a bed pan underneath me.

When everyone had gone and I was left by myself with a card to use the overhead telly and phone to ring home I phoned Michael, the only person I dated who had ever truly cared for me and I cried on the phone.

"I've been hit," I told him as soon as I heard his voice. "I've been in a car accident and I'm in the hospital. I have a broken leg."

I can't remember afterwards what happened, what was said or if he was kind to me I just remember hearing him come on the phone and saying that to him. I hoped he might come down, send a get well card or something but he never did. I needed to be operated on soon because my leg was only snapped into place not fixed. I needed surgery.

The following morning I found to do basic things like buttering my own toast without being able to lift my back or move up the bed hard work. I struggled to butter my toast, I mashed the butter into my dry toast and made a mess. I lay on my side to have a few mouthfuls and was so exhausted by doing it I gave up eating - that was until my Aunt Sandra who worked at the hospital poked her head around the door.

"Hello Kimberly how are you?"
"Hey Auntie Sandra."
"Have you had your operation yet?"
"No."
"They should have by now."
"I haven't."
"You are on the list. You're third."
"Oh..."
"I'll see if I can bump you up."
"Thank you."

Again I didn't remember much. My Mom came in later on and she realised by looking at my notes why I was so out of it. I was on morphine and my body was reacting to high amounts in my system but before she went to talk to anyone she stopped and said.

"Look who I've brought..."

She'd brought someone? Michael? I looked as Megan came into the room and all the memories came flooding back and I cried which was just when Mom closed the door.