Missing Without A Trace (11 page)

A news crew got him a hotel room, where he went for a shower, and then he checked on Tanya, who lingered in the deliberate coma. Tom came and went, looking in on her, sitting with her, hanging out in the ICU waiting room, and wandering around the hospital before he returned to sit by her side.

In the mid-afternoon, he found his way back to Tanya, who was still on the respirator. Her chest rose and fell and her eyes danced under their lids. Tom smiled, hoping she was having a nice dream. Looking at her, Tom considered the irony of what had happened. Before the accident, he and Tanya had finally been happy. For the first time, Tanya had seemed to be elated, finally living the life she had deserved to have from the start. Both of them had been in a great mood. Working for what they wanted, they chased the American dream and felt as if their lives were in perfect order—financially, physically and emotionally. Leaving all of their family turmoil in the past, they had moved on, made a clean break from Tanya’s family a few years earlier, so the endless drama of Tanya’s mother competing for her grandmother’s favor had been stripped away. It had been liberating, like dropping dead weight. Indeed, everything had felt so right. And, then, in an instant, it all came crashing down.

The nurses returned to the room. They needed to move Tanya and, when they did, she cried out with tortured sounds, even though she was in a coma. While the nurses worked on Tanya, Tom wandered away to roam around the hospital for a while. When he returned, the nurse told him that they’d just removed the respirator. They had tried to do so earlier, but she hadn’t been strong enough to breathe on her own. “This time,” the nurse said, “she’s doing just fine.”

Tom went to her and saw that her color was returning. Taking slow, deep breaths, she looked like a sleeping, peaceful angel. A halo of golden hair surrounded her face, and Tom realized that someone had washed out the blood and redone her braids, although it was still very tangled. He also noticed that he finally smelled Tanya’s familiar scent, not the sick smell of blood.

Tanya’s doctor came in.

“How is she?” Tom asked.

“Well, she’s breathing on her own and her kidneys are back to one-hundred percent,” said the doctor. “All in all, she’s doing much better
than we could have hoped.” The doctor smiled with confidence at Tom. “We’re going to keep her unconscious for another day or so, to give her body more time to heal.”

Tom looked down at Tanya and noticed a slight smile across her lips. Wherever she was, Tom knew that it was pleasant. After the doctor left the room, the nurses came in to change her dressings again. After enduring the regimen for a few days already, he knew that the entire procedure took the nurses about three hours. He left the room.

Tom avoided the news crews and walked with his friend Jonathan out to his car. Jonathan worked for SoundBuilt, the small company that tom worked for. Jonathan told Tom that Gary, their boss, was going to pay Tom for his time off and that he didn’t have to return to work until Tanya was ready. Tom’s coworkers at SoundBuilt offered to give Tom their vacation time and help with the house. Jonathan also offered Tom his condo near the hospital, so Tom could shower, change and rest when he needed to, and then he took him to the mall to pick up some clothes. SoundBuilt paid the bill, and then Jonathan treated Tom to a hefty steak for lunch.

When Tom wandered back to the hospital, he found a cart full of flowers and a growing stack of cards and letters from around the world. While Tanya slept in the coma, Tom read some of the letters to her, believing that she could hear his voice at some level.

The doctor returned with more good news. They would keep her in the coma for a while longer, but her kidneys continued to function at one-hundred percent. Her leg was still in jeopardy but it, too, was slowly improving. As the hours passed, and days turned into night, Tom continued to meander through the hospital hallways whenever the nurses came in to change Tanya’s dressings. He’d eat an energy bar or gulp down a cup of coffee or a 5-Hour Energy shot, and then he’d return to sit by Tanya’s side. Refusing to sleep until Tanya was out of danger, Tom picked up more of the cards and read them out loud to her.

My most powerful first memory was seeing Tom. Stronger than anything, clearer than the pain of those first days, the image of his face is the first thing I remember. They had me so loaded on medication that I wasn’t sure any of it was real, but the first thing that I knew was real was Tom. He was standing over my bed, smiling at me
.

Another time, I woke up and realized that there were lots of people around me, fiddling around my legs. I asked the nurse for something to drink
.

“We have juice,” she said
.

I was disoriented. I had no comprehension of the seriousness of my situation, so I looked at her and asked, “Does it have sugar in it?
”

“We have water,” the nurse replied
.

“Bottled?” I asked innocently
.

The nurse stared at me, incredulous. She couldn’t believe that I’d be so picky
.

Then, another nurse tried to get me to tell her what had happened. “Do you remember going off the road?” she pressed me. “Did you fall asleep?
”

I didn’t even know who was asking me the questions. Though I had asked for my glasses, no one could find them and I couldn’t see past the edge of my bed. This added to my fears, as I couldn’t even clearly see the faces of the people around me
.

“I don’t know,” was all I could tell her
.

When Tom returned to Tanya’s room, her mental fog had lifted. She was coming out of the coma and he was elated. But, then, Tanya spoke.

“Why did you leave me down there for so long?” she asked, scowling at him with pure hatred in her eyes.

Tom had never heard her speak in such a cold, hateful tone. He looked at Tanya and felt crushed by the look of pure loathing on her face.
Tom noticed that Nancy was soaking up all the turmoil and she seemed to be enjoying the look of pain on Tom’s face. He looked at Nancy. Tom realized that Tanya’s mother had been in the room, talking to Tanya, before Tom walked in and he couldn’t help but wonder if Nancy had put the thoughts into Tanya’s head.

“I called you for help,” she added. “I even called the police and they laughed at me!”

Tom couldn’t bear it. He was stunned, and felt the blood drain from his face. Heartbroken, he didn’t know what to say or do, and he couldn’t bear the look on her face or the tone in her voice. His mind reeled. He turned and left the room.

Walking down the hospital corridor, he latched on to something she had said.
Had she really called 911?
Shaking with anger, he fumbled through his stack of business cards, found the detective’s number and left a voice mail. Then he called the radio shows to vent his anger. He wanted to use the media to get the message out that what had happened to Tanya should never happen to anyone. He wanted to honor her survival by making sure that such disasters didn’t happen to other people. He wanted to tell the world that 911 operators need to be trained to handle missingperson reports with understanding, compassion and urgency, and that police departments need to establish more effective criteria to safeguard human lives.

After Tom’s rant, the Sheriff called one of the local radio shows, trying to curb the damage to her department. Then, the Sheriff called a press conference. Although she hid behind “procedure,” she did apologize to Tom for the “poor customer service” he’d received from those who served under her command. That was worth something, Tom thought, feeling vindicated that, at least, he had made the Sheriff see why the system needed to change. But it wasn’t enough. And, as soon as Tanya was found, it seemed to Tom like the games began. Tom thought the Sheriff’s office acted like a small child playing a game of “Look over there! Don’t look
at us!”

Tom walked into my room and I gave him the best smile I could manage
.

“What happened?” I asked. “Why am I in the hospital?
”

“You were in a car accident,” he explained
.

“How’s my car?” I wanted to know. “Is my Element okay?” It was the first new car I had ever gotten and I loved it! Tom told me not to worry about anything but getting better. Then, he said something that confused me
.

“Babe, you’re a miracle,” he said
.

“What? A miracle?” I asked. I didn’t understand how I could be a miracle. “Why?
”

I tried to get him to tell me what he was talking about, but he wouldn’t. “Not yet,” he said. “Just concentrate on getting better so you can get out of here…
”

“I don’t understand,” I persisted
.

“You were lost for awhile and then we found you,” he said. “That’s enough for now. Don’t worry. You’ll have your car when you’re ready and we have all the time in the world. Just get better and I’ll take care of everything else.” I could tell by the look in his eyes that I would not get any more answers, so I let it drop for the moment
.

I was heavily medicated for the next few days and my mind and memories were blurry but I know that over and over and again and again, I asked Tom about what had happened. I wanted the full story but he kept telling me to just worry about getting better. Then, a few times, he said more, but he stopped when he sensed that I couldn’t handle any more. He was right. I couldn’t handle much at first. “We’ll stop there, for now,” he told me. “Just know that you’re loved.” Still, sometimes, I’d forget and ask him again
.

It took me a while but, the more I learned, the more I saw God’s
hand in it. How else could I explain it? To live for eight days is well beyond the odds. I believe that He kept me safe and, mostly, whole. For the most part, I still have all my parts. Some are changed, some are banged up, and most have new scars, but—even with the scars—they’re still mine
.

The lead surgeon entered the room with an entourage of nurses and medical students
.

“We have to get her ready for surgery,” said an older charge nurse. “So, you’ll have to come back later.
”

Although he had only been able to spend a few minutes with Tanya, Tom felt revitalized. He was grateful that they had Tanya so doped up that she wasn’t in as much pain and didn’t seem to remember what had happened. When he came back, he brought Tanya her cell phone, which she kept under her pillow so that she could call him whenever she needed to.

Meanwhile, some good Samaritans had gone to the accident site and searched for things that had been left in the ravine. Among other things, they found Tanya’s social security card, a book that contained the plans for the house she and Tom were building, and other important papers. The person had retrieved the items and returned them to Tanya with a note that said, “I thought you may need these.” As a true act of kindness, this gift was given to Tanya with no claim for credit. This good Samaritan gave part of Tanya’s dream back to her, without even leaving his or her name.

Each day, Tom told Tanya a little bit more about her ordeal. He stopped when he thought it was too much for her.

When the hospital moved me from Intensive Care to a regular room, I asked them not to give out any information about me without my permission, including my room number. Tom was the only person I wanted with me and the only person who was to know where I was. But, in the confusion of the shift change, the staff almost wouldn’t tell Tom
where I was. Tom was about to cause quite a scene when the nurse I had talked with happened to walk by, on her way out for the night. “This is the husband,” she told the others. “He’s the only one who is to know where Tanya’s new room is.
”

Twice a day, the nurses needed to change the dressings on the wound on my left hip. To do this, they had to roll me over and, in the process, they dug their bony fingers into me. While they were trying to help me, I don’t think they realized how much pain this inflicted on me so, finally, I refused to let them roll me. Instead, I asked Tom to help me. His strong, fleshy hands and gentle touch didn’t hurt, so he was the only one who could roll me onto my side without pain. In fact, this routine gave me an unexplained comfort. Unlike the nurses, who were in a hurry to go help other patients, Tom took his time working with me and getting me into position, and then the nurses could access my wounded hip, change its packing, and change my other bandages
.

I couldn’t stand to watch. While a nurse changed my dressings, I asked for a washcloth and put it over my eyes but, when Tom was there, I’d look into his eyes, where I saw his love. It made me feel safe because I knew that, no matter what, he would be with me. We got married in 1998 and, like most married couples, we fight—and I win—but Tom was always there to support me. Of all the crutches I could lean on, Tom was the most comfortable. Plus, he could always make me laugh and bring out my joy—even in the hospital
.

Although I was under the constant mask of pain medication, most of the time I could still feel the pain and it was almost too much to bear. Through it all I drew strength from Tom. He was there, always there. And he was sure I would walk again, even when I was not
.

The doctors and nurses told me that I needed to get up and move around. I listened to them, and I heard their words, but I couldn’t imagine how I could possibly do it. How could I get up and get around when I was still in so much pain? How could I regain my strength when the constant
diet of painkillers left me even weaker? I’d been in the hospital for about a week and, so far, I hadn’t been able to move much of anything. Even the simplest tasks were beyond me. Movements that used to be so easy, so simple, would cause me so much pain
.

After hanging from my seatbelt and trapped in my car for eight days, I suffered nerve damage to my left arm and ankle, leaving them useless. It was as if they were dead. I was unable to control even the simplest movement in either of them. Due to the nerve damage, I had no mobility in the fingers in my left hand and my left wrist flopped down. I was powerless to lift it back up. For my wrist, I had two different braces—one for sleeping and one with springs to hold my fingers straight
.