Dying For A Chance (6 page)

            The next few days I didn't see anything of Nic, not a whisper or a laugh. I missed his jokes and the way we teased each other. The nurses were nice enough but they were either burnt out or didn't have time to sit and humor an invalid. I found myself growing bitter and cold at life. It wasn't right, I see that now. It wasn't anyone's fault but I had the feeling that life owed me something. The day Nic left I began a mental catalog of all the injustices in my life and totaled them up against all the good experiences. After a childhood of lowered expectations I sort of assumed that the rest of my life would at least meet some of my standards. So, I was in a puddle of self pity the next time I saw Dr. Swaresh with Dr. Psychiatrist in tow.

            They beamed at me from the door and I silently wished that her silver spectacles would slide all the way off her nose causing her to trip and shoot the clipboard across the room taking out the stack of nutrient drinks sitting by my bed in a fantastic accident. I would laugh and Dr. Swaresh would tell her to take the rest of the day off. Her spectacles didn't slip. Mark that down as another fail for fate.

            “How are you feeling?” Dr. Swaresh tried to make that sound hopeful, as if he didn't spend three fourths of his day asking that same question over and over.

            “I'm good” for a split second I hoped that Nic would turn up behind Dr. Swaresh just to mock him. He didn't come.

            “I wanted Dr. Gannushkin to join us today while we discussed our options.” he nodded his head toward me to indicate that it was my choice whether she stayed. I might not like her but I hate being rude so I nodded back that it was ok with me.

            “Last time we mentioned that there is a procedure we can attempt to remove the piece of metal near your spine.” I nodded to keep him talking and my stomach replied with a slow churn. I was a whiny person when I had a cold, what was I going to be like as a cripple? The Dr. continued.

            “What we will do is this.” he motioned with his hands while explaining the procedure, “we will make an incision near your ribs and remove some peripheral nerves. Then, we can attempt to remove the metal fragment that is gradually severing your spinal cord.” I must have turned a little green because the Dr. moved to the bed, offered me a drink of water and held my hand. His warmth gave me a little strength. When I looked a little more composed he moved on.

            “There is a high probability this will completely severe the spinal cord, but when that happens we will tuck the nerve from your rib into place and there is a chance it will grow to replace some of the function of the spinal cord. You would never regain all the same function but you may be able to feel and posses some rudimentary movement. ” I had nodded my head at each of his points, trying to think of some other option.

            “Do I have any other options?”

            “I am sorry Samantha” his kind eyes looked at me and I felt their genuine pity. “If we let you go home today, with a crutch for your leg it would only be a small matter of time before the fragment moved on its own and you could lose all control. It would be very dangerous.”

            I nodded once to tell him I understood. Dr. Gannushkin stood patiently to the side, taking notes and tapping her clipboard. Apparently I was still interesting even when I wasn't saying anything. I desperately tried to think of any other possibility but couldn't come up with a single better option.

            “Alright, let's do it” the Dr. gave me an encouraging smile and went on to explain everything I could expect before and after the surgery. There would be plenty of therapy that I should brace myself for even if the procedure went perfectly. I kept nodding like I was ready for it all. Who was I kidding? I wasn't the kind of person who could take that kind of commitment. The last time I had joined a gym I went strong for a solid 2 weeks before quitting and then I avoided the calls they made trying to get me to come back in. I eventually told them some personal tragedy story about losing my house in a fire so they would stop calling. Again, not a moment I'm proud of.

            When they finally left I found myself alone in the hospital room and secretly hoped that Nic would materialize out of the fading light of the sunset. It occurred to me that he never said where he was going. He had never told me anything about what it was like for him and where he went was he wasn't with me. I suddenly grew cold with fear. What if he never came back? What if he crossed over, passed on or stepped through the light and I never saw him again? The idea stuck with me and for the rest of that night I felt horrible.

            After I had made the decision about the surgery Dr. Gannushkin started coming into my room several times a day. She would sit on a stiff chair and ask a variety of questions about my family, my childhood and general state of being. 'What makes you happy? Tell me about a time when you were afraid, excited, embarrassed...' the usual. I couldn't understand why she kept visiting me, once Nic left I didn't have any more embarrassing outbursts so she should have thought I was completely sane. I didn't have much opportunity to think about her though as the surgery came up quicker than I had hoped.

            Once I had made the decision to have the surgery everything went very fast. A surgeon was hired to do the work, he was a specialist. I didn't have the kind of money to hire him but because this was a rare kind of thing the surgeon had decided to do it pro bono. It was partly as a good service and partly because it would enhance his portfolio. Either way, I was just happy that I wouldn't owe so much money.

            During the week of prep for surgery Dr. Swaresh came into my room often. Sometimes he even brought his lunch and we would talk. I felt like he was genuinely interested in me and I couldn't deny that he was a fascinating person to be interested by. We talked about complex, thought provoking things and I felt smarter around him. He told me about his background, how he'd been hired to the Tulsa hospital from his home town in India. It was a small city that was so different from here. He'd been in the States for a few years and was still getting used to things. I told him he could visit me any time and I’d give him the inside scoop on everything I knew. Before I knew it we had our final conversation, the one where he braced me for the upcoming surgery and all its difficulties.

~~~

            Dr. Swaresh pulled up a small chair, squealing and screeching across the floor to sit beside my bed. I had just ate breakfast and was feeling quite optimistic about the next day. All through the previous night I’d had good dreams about skipping, dancing and running and I felt they were prophetic in a way. I was really looking forward to being on my way out of the hospital.

            “How are you this morning, Samantha?” The Dr’s smile greeted me warmly, he had a stack of papers in his lap for us to go over.

            “Good as can be Doc, I’m excited to get out of this bed....not that you don’t have nice things. I’m really getting attached to the fancy remote controls and the way all the nurses hurry when I push this big red one in the middle.” I gave him a smile and he chuckled
.

            “This is why I enjoy coming to visit you, none of my other patients are quite as funny as you are.” he coughed slightly and I could tell that meant we were supposed to get down to business. “Now, Samantha there are just a few things we must go over before tomorrow.”

            I settled myself in for a long conversation. “I’m listening, go on.”

            “This first paper is telling us what kind of anesthesia we will be using. Obviously, we do not want you to feel any pain
s
o we will be injecting your entire lumbar region with anesthesia as well as giving you a general sedative. It will feel as though you are in a dream.” Everything was sounding good so far, not feeling pain was at the top of my list as well. He set the first papers onto my table tray and moved on.

            “This second paper is reminding us that your decision to have the surgery is a recommended procure only. We can not force you to have this surgery but we have gone over the benefits and you understand that this is necessary.” I nodded my head, I didn’t want to be walking around and suddenly collapse from a severed spine in the middle of nowhere...or worse, the middle of Wal-Mart or something. That would be both dangerous and embarrassing. He set the next group of papers on the tray and moved on.

            “This third section is telling us what to expect from your surgery. I went over it a little before but I am required to do it again. Please bear with me...” he smiled apologetically. “We will first make a small incision to collect the Intercostal, peripheral nerve by your rib cage. Once that is complete we will make an incision in the lumbar area of your spine and attempt to remove the fragment from your spinal column.” The doctor hesitated and set his papers down. “This is very important...the surgeon will do absolutely everything in his power to remove the fragment, if that happens he will then graft your small nerve onto the column to repair the bit of damage you already have. This scenario leaves us with an 89% success ratio.” Things were seriously looking up for me, I smiled enthusiastically at Dr. Swaresh. He coughed into his fist and continued.

            “This is a very difficult procedure, the fragment in your spine is small and will be very difficult to remove. In the event that it can not be removed, the surgeon will severe your spine and then remove the fragment at that time. He will then splice the peripheral nerve between the two sections of spinal nerve.” Dr. Swaresh paused and waited for me to take it all in. “This scenario leaves us with a 43%  success ratio. This is a very rare surgery and has only been done a handful of times.”

            I sat very still contemplating what it would be like to permanently lose the use of my legs. I didn’t have many options. “But, it’s going to be alright because the surgeon will get the piece of metal. I know he’s not going to give up, this time he’ll get it.” I brightened with my own affirmation

            “Samantha, look at me.” Dr. Swaresh spoke very gently, “I need you to understand that there is a very real possibility this will not go as we hope. It is important that you take some time tonight to consider this and settle it within your heart.”

            We talked a bit more about lighter subjects, how slowly the weather was changing and what I thought of that morning’s breakfast. When he left
,
I felt an empty space that hung around all day long. I wanted to talk about what was happening, to scream and cry, complain and moan. The nurses made their usual trips in and out of the room but no one stopped to talk. I didn’t sleep very much the night before my big surgery.

~~~

            Dr. Swaresh came to my room bright and early the day of my surgery. He was there to show support and encouragement. He read the headlines of the local news while the nurses got everything ready for my move. A Wendy’s restaurant was closing and there was some debate by the town leaders if the space should be sold to a big time bank institution or turned into more parking. I appreciated his effort but I wasn’t up for small talk. I wasn’t about to trust myself to say anything, It was a good thing that I was required to fast for 6 hours before the surgery. I felt like puking.

            “I will be there when you come back out of surgery.” Dr. Swaresh patted my hand as the nurses carted my bed down the hallway. I felt bad for not saying more to him, he was a very nice man but I had other things on my mind.

            The surgical room was cold and impersonal. While I waited for the anesthesia they had given me to take affect I was given a small mask that pumped gas into my system. Within seconds the nurses became hazy blurs and a black curtain shut off all my senses. I fell asleep with the one thought that everything was going to be ok. I was creating a history of being wrong about things.

            Suddenly, I could feel panic through the darkness. It wasn’t time to wake up yet, I knew that much. I tried to guess what had got my attention. It wasn't like I heard anything specific, the words didn't really come through but I could tell there was a quickness of breath and a tensing in their hands. Whatever was happening it didn't seem that things were going as well as planned. I couldn't understand it, the Dr. had assured me they would do everything in their power. In my black prison I began to feel uneasy. My heart paced back and forth.

            Is there anything as nerve wracking as waiting for disaster to strike? A sudden snap and there would be nothing left of my spinal cord. I strained my senses to decipher what was happening.