A Dream Come True

Chapter Eight

•Day 22•

What a great way to start my week. The doctors say I obviously can't play softball anymore. Or pretty much any sport. In fact the only physical thing I'll be doing is physical therapy. It probably won't be months until I'm able to walk on a prosthetic leg.

"Sadie are you awake?"

I haven't spoken since my friends left yesterday. I don't want to talk anymore. I feel as if part of me is missing. I've taken away something that matter the most to me--softball. My dream of playing college ball is over. I was so close to getting a scholarship too.  My coach was telling us scouts would be coming soon. I already long for the feeling of sliding into home and running after hitting a triple or a home run. I miss standing in the batters box and giving the pitcher my game face. I can't believe I lost my dream.

I lay in the hospital bed pretending to be asleep so no one will try to talk to me. I don't feel like talking to anyone anymore. I just want to go home.
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•Day 33•

"Sadie wake up. We can leave now."

I gradually open my eyes and sit up. A sense of pain shoots through me where my leg used to be. The doctors call that phantom pain and prescribed me medication to help. Sometimes it works but other times it doesn't. I just hope that goes away soon along with the emptiness in my heart. I've been seeing a counselor to help grieve while I'm here. She says I'm doing a lot better than the first time we met a week ago. My physical therapist says I'm improving too but we only started two days ago. I feel so stupid. I have to gain muscle strength and control just so I am able to try to walk again. It's like I'm a seventeen year old baby.

My dad grabs all the balloons, cards, and flowers I've gotten from the last two weeks. The  nurse comes and helps me into my brand new wheelchair. She goes off about our follow up appointment and all the things I need to remember to do at home. Keep it straight, take care of the wound, keep exercising, move safely to avoid falling-- blah, blah, blah.

My dad puts the stuff in the car and then come backs for me. I wanted to push myself but it's against the hospitals rules. He helps me into the car and we drive home. The ride is long and silent. There's not much to talk about these days anyways. When we get home he helps me out of the car and inside. From there I look at the stairs with disbelief. Shit how am I getting up there?

"Here let me carry you."

My dad takes me all the way upstairs and places me on my bed.

"Are you hungry?"

"No I'm okay"

"Thirsty?"

"Um yeah. Could you get me a glass of water?"

"Sure I'll be right back."

He leaves and shortly returns with an ice cold glass of water. Just how I like it.

"Alright text me when you go to take a shower so I know you're in there," he says.

"Okay. I think I'll take one now actually."

"Do you need help getting to the bathroom?"

"No I'm okay, just hand me the crutches."

He hands me the crutches and leaves me be for a while. I feel like he's just sitting outside the bathroom door in case something happens but I don't mind.

The shower chair we bought just fits. Dad must have prepared the house for me while I was at the hospital. There's the chair in the shower along with a grab bar. There's also a grab bar next to the toilet now too. There's a bath matt that looks very secure on the floor, probably so I don't slip and I notice that all bottles now have pumps in them.