Unsuspecting Blessing.

vi

vi

The concept of memory, to Julia so far since she has been taking psychology 101, is the reconstruction of firing neurons to relay a similar—not exact—version of something the senses had previously experienced. And that was explicitly how she considered the feelings she had as she looked at Brian Greenwood's unconscious face as he slept in the dull green chair beside the window early in the morning. Though, she thought, that roles were reversed this time around. That happened a few hours previously, because now she had a scheduled appointment in the operating room—those arrangements were made early in the morning—to get both stitches done by laser technology and stitches done by hand. The ones made by lasers were going to be deep inside her leg, hopefully altering the wound enough to promote hasteful healing of her bone and physical functions.

Even further before her operation plans had been set in stone, Julia had been asleep just like Brian Peterson, and she dreamed vividly of the accident. Her heart had bulged out of her chest and into her throat the entire time she dreamt, coming up with alternate realities where she would not be stuck in such an awful and painful predicament. Though, those dreams were only speculation, because at the time, Julia had not been fully certain of her condition that kept her glued to the hospital bed and hazy. When she awoke from her dreams that caused both cognitive and somatic frustrations; along with a cold sweat; the doctor had been in the room checking an IV that dripped steadily into Julia's forearm. The pain from the insertion of the pencil-thick needle had not come until she realized how deep it plunged into her arm. Her arm had been taped to a wooden board with moving tape, most likely to deter any interference when Julia was sleeping—or when she woke up, she knew, as her first instinct upon waking was to rid herself of the swollen needle in her arm.

Eyes wide, Julia looked at the female doctor, and started to pant slowly yet uncontrollably. The doctor looked at her, and smiled thinly with genuineness. Julia felt paused in the moment, like some sort of ghost or wraith had condemned her to frozen silence, but in reality she had not a clue what to say to the doctor.

The doctor introduced herself quietly as Doctor Foster. She tried to avoid speaking too loud due to Brian sleeping in the chair on the far side of the hospital room, Julia followed the same unwritten rule. Brian's breathing while he slept transitioned from practically unnoticeable to unbearable in the matter of seconds between introductions.

"How about we take a stroll from the room?" Doctor Foster asked, but it sounded more like a demand rather than a question or suggestion.

Julia nodded, but any idea on how to do so did not occur in her mind—which still felt dizzy despite her lengthy sleep.

Doctor Foster left the room, and came back five minutes later with a folded up wheelchair. She pulled at both ends on each handle and it burst into reality like a pop-up book for children. She sat the wheelchair on the floor beside the bed and aided Julia into the chair after taking the IV cautiously out of her arm.

The fabric felt loose underneath Julia, but once her entire body weighed on the chair the fabric tightened up like shrunken leather. There were two armrests beside Julia with one on either side, and Julia propped her arm with the IV nick in it on the rest, feeling shocked at the actual size of the puncture that looked minuscule compared to the ache underneath.

Once they went out the door of the room, Doctor Foster spoke to Julia in her usual volume of voice. "I only gave the IV to you because you were unconscious for so long and were unable to eat—if you had been awake it would not have been necessary."

Julia felt odd that the Doctor knew exactly what she thought, but decided that Doctor Foster probably saw similar circumstances constantly. The exciting mundaneness that came with being a professional physician must have come with perks of clairvoyance, and eyeballing fluids. Julia watched the tiled floor as it raced by underneath the wheels of the chair, and with each room that flew by a different smell caught hold of her nose like a botanical garden made of people—each one with their own unique sickness and fragrance to whatever condition they suffered. At the end of the hall was an elevator, and Doctor Foster brought Julia into the metal box. The ride was not silent, the sounds of the elevator controlled most of the conversation with the droning gears that brought them downwards. At the very end, the doors opened after all the pinging of floors going by; three floors to be exact, Julia's room was on the fourth floor.

The lobby of the hospital was something that Julia barely remembered from childhood, but the strong sterile smell that wafted like an aura around the entire first floor of the building felt strongest in the lobby like the janitors just finished cleaning. The doors to the hospital were not automatic, and Doctor Foster asked one of the women at the front desk if they would "be a dear," and open the doors for her. The woman complied without complaint, and Julia was brought outside and she looked upon the giant pond at the middle of the hospital courtyard. The sweet aroma of the early morning filled her lungs and rejuvenated her senses after being plastered with a thousand different stenches. Her eyes especially felt clean, being outside the hospital, and the nature around her cheered her heart. The pine trees did not sway but wind picked up strands of her hair, and there were ducks and blue-jays to be heard communicating—most likely over the unwelcomed bread crumbs that had already been thrown, and some squirrels could be seen getting in a quarrel over some mysterious conflict to humans. Julia took a deep breath in of the serenity around her, trying to ignore the fact that her leg was starting to pulse as the wind stoked the fire.

"Would you like to go closer to the pond?" Doctor Foster asked, already walking towards the water.

"Please," Julia said, hoping to see frogs and small fish floating around in the mostly clear, but somewhat murky looking water.

"Julia," Doctor Foster said, "I would like to talk to you about an operation I would like scheduled for you as soon as possible..." her voice trailed, "today, if possible."

Julia had a swarm of discomfort in her chest as she tried to speak. With difficulty, and a sheer awkwardness from barely knowing the doctor, she agreed to hear about the operation.

"Well, you are going to need an x-ray firstly, to identify the situation better, but most likely you are going to need laser incisions in your leg to help heal your broken bone, as well as, normal stitches."

"Okay," Julia said, feeling absent in the conversation.

Doctor Foster sighed. "And after that, which will not honestly be terrible, you are going to need at least six months of physical therapy."

Doctor Foster sounded to Julia, like she was expecting her to not understand the magnitude of the damage done, but Julia had been mentally preparing herself for the news the entire walk down to the pond. Especially the length of physical therapy; her neighbor went through something similar last year and had physical therapy for nine months, and Julia witnessed a grueling three months of the process. Doctor did not speak after her last statement, and waited for Julia to speak—but Julia did not want to speak. Instead, she leaned in the wheelchair and looked onto the pond. She saw a frog on the far side, hopping around in the grass, and a few yellowish-orange fish scurry towards the middle of the water after seeing a bug land on the water's surface. Fresh air felt cold in Julia's nostrils, and then in her lungs; she looked at her reflection in the pond, refracted and distorted, and began to cry.

"Oh honey, I know, I know—" Doctor Foster patted Julia's back and knelt down to make eye contact with her. But she had not known. Julia did not cry from the pain, and she did not cry from the time it would take to heal. Julia cried because she knew once she finally returned home, her white flowers would be dead. Doctor Foster blocked out the reflection from Julia's view...

Over the following three hours, Julia had x-rays taken to reveal that her bone broke in such a way that physical therapy should take six months maximally instead of minimally. An hour after her x-rays, she underwent long preparation and a short operation that spanned about forty-five minutes total. Julia had been given a large dose of medication to ease the throbbing in her leg, which she claimed felt like an infected dog bite being bitten by another, much larger dog but inside her skin through her bone. Or like spores of pain being inflicted by rusted nails underneath her skin and traveling through the bloodstream.

After all the hassle, Doctor Foster returned Julia to the room. She expected Brian Peterson to have left by then, due to the fact that she knew they had class the hour of her return. But when she turned the corner into the doorway, utter shock knocked her loose as he stood with an apple sauce and carton of milk in his hands.