Missing Without A Trace (13 page)

As the weeks went by, the therapists needed to decide whether Tanya would transfer to a more accelerated inpatient rehabilitation unit or to a skilled nursing facility. They would prescribe the nursing home option if they felt she wasn’t expected to make much progress. But, to qualify for inpatient rehabilitation, Tanya had to reach certain milestones and complete many tasks. For example, she had to be able to sit up for a period of time and perform a certain number of exercise repetitions with her hands and feet. Determined to spend her first Christmas with Tom in their new home, Tanya wanted to do her best at passing
any
tests the doctors put before her. At every turn, Tanya worked hard to challenge herself and to surpass their expectations.

But it was difficult. Having lost so much fat and muscle, she was thin and prone to bedsores, which exacerbated her pain when she sat still. Her workouts made her dizzy. And though she fought anxiety, fear and frustration, she did not want to be a victim. “I
had
to get out of the wheelchair,” Tanya said, “and up to the walker!”

Though her body was suffering, Tanya still refused to surrender to it, refused to give in or give up. Tom continued to press her, asking for “just one more try,” and Tanya complied, even when she didn’t feel like it. Starting with a walker, she took baby steps. Tom followed, pushing the wheelchair close behind Tanya so she could sit when she got tired. She took short rests to take a long pull from her water bottle and then
she’d be up and off again, pushing her walker down the corridor. At first, the hospital hallway looked immense and her first trip down the hall was painstaking and tedious. But, soon, they were making trips around the therapy wing and Tanya found that, the more she pushed herself to her limit, the better the next day would start.

Before her accident, Tanya had been committed to a healthy and disciplined lifestyle of vigorous daily exercise and a nutritious, natural diet, so she had a hard time with the hospital’s food service. To help solve the problem, Tanya enlisted the support of a hospital nutritionist, who helped to arrange for the kitchen to provide Tanya with healthier alternatives. And, each evening, Tom brought dinner to Tanya along with a nice supply of organic foods that she could eat whenever she wanted. Until this time, Tom spent every night in Tanya’s hospital room. But, then, Tom’s friend couldn’t watch the dog anymore and, since it was cold out, Tom went home to let the dog into the house.

After Tanya had been in the rehab wing for about two weeks, the rehab team challenged Tanya with a “real life” test. They gave her ten dollars and a bus ride to Whole Foods Market in downtown Seattle, and required Tanya to buy food for one meal, pay for the groceries, and make it back to the bus. Tom didn’t want to miss the excursion. “I think he needed to see me get out,” Tanya said, “even more than I needed to
be
out.”

Tanya made it into the store. Walking down the long aisles in the store, she was aware that the distances she had to walk were far greater than the trips she had made around the hospital’s hallway. To meet the care team’s challenge, Tanya had to purchase a minimum of three ingredients that would make a balanced meal, but she could not spend more than ten dollars on her purchase. The test was as mental as it was physical.

Working her way down the first aisle, she collected one of the components for her meal, which was simple but filling and required at least five ingredients: eggs, brown rice, mayonnaise, lettuce and bread. She started to tire as she reached the next aisle. Tom disappeared. Though
he wasn’t allowed to help her shop, he found a way in which to help. He snagged a chair from the deli and brought it to her. Since the test had no time limit, it wasn’t against the rules for Tanya to rest, and Tom could tell she needed it. But, being her determined self, Tanya wouldn’t stop. Though her body wanted to give up, her mind refused to rest and, in the end, her mind won.

Tanya continued shopping as each step brought a greater wave of pain. She felt a little warmer than usual and then sweat formed along her hairline. Pushing through the sensations, she kept going, though she started to feel weak. By the time she finally had her stuff together, sweat trickled down her face and dripped from her chin. Grateful for a short rest, Tanya took a seat in the chair for a few minutes. Sitting there, waiting, she considered her own determination.
I’ll show them what I’m made of
, she thought.
And I will make it home for Christmas!

Recovered, Tanya headed for the check out register, where she stood at the end of a line of people. Finally, she paid for her food. Tanya was tired. It had been a demanding outing and she still had to get all the way back to the hospital. Finishing her transaction, she and Tom headed for the exit, but a large group of people who were milling around, just talking, blocked Tanya’s path. Tom pressed into the small crowd and offered a few choice words that elicited some strange looks before the group quickly moved out of the way. Drenched in sweat by the time she finished her simple shopping errand, Tanya walked outside and the cold air hit her “like a knife.”

Thinking about the pain she experienced on her simple shopping trip, Tanya wondered about the level of pain her body had suffered while she was trapped in the vehicle for those eight days and nights. Although she remembers some of the pain, her mind spares her from the vivid memories. It is as if the sensations became photographs, like memories that have become facts but with detachment from the emotional experience of them. The facts exist, but she doesn’t
feel
them. In a way, Tanya feels this may
be a blessing.

Having met the strenuous test, Tanya faced another challenge the next day. In this test, she had to
cook
the meal for which she had bought the ingredients. But, when she arrived in the kitchenette where she had stored her groceries, her ingredients were gone. Having endured all the pain and effort to shop for her own, healthy groceries, Tanya was horrified that someone had walked off with them. The rehab team reworked her test, challenging Tanya to make a meal using any ingredients in the kitchen. She did but, in the end, she was glad she didn’t have to eat it! “I’m sure it was a fine meal,” she said. “But it wasn’t
my
food. It wasn’t the food that I had chosen to cook and eat. It wasn’t the meal I had fought so hard to get.”

Tanya remained determined to prove her commitment and she

made steady progress. Once she transferred to the unit, the rehab psychologists consulted with her and continued to note her anxiety and her tendency to “micro-manage” her therapy. Feeling fearful and vulnerable, she wanted
control,
but didn’t have any. She was at the mercy of her damaged body. On the other hand, her appetite was increasing and her endurance improving.

At Tanya’s first meeting with her care group, she and Tom held hands. The team asked Tanya her goals and she said, “I want to go home for Christmas.” When they told Tanya not to get her hopes up, she broke down and cried. In early December, she had a second meeting with them. The caregivers asked her what her goals were. Tanya said she intended to be home for Christmas. “We’ll see,” they said, rolling their eyes. Tanya thought they seemed more than noncommittal—even a little shocked—as they again warned her not to get her hopes up. “They didn’t know me,” she said. “And they didn’t know how determined I was.” She took their equivocations as a challenge and, Tanya says, “I never back down from a challenge.”

Before long, I graduated to a cane. Sometimes, I could even putter
around my room without it, though, one time, Tom had to catch me. But, generally, my progress astounded my nurses and other onlookers on my floor. Partly, I did it for Tom—for the pride I saw in his eyes as he pushed me—but I also did it because I didn’t want to be dependent on anyone or under their control. I was sick and tired of being told what to do. I wanted to go home
.

When I entered the room for the third meeting with my care team, I walked in using just my cane. Their eyes popped and they looked at me as if I was wearing a jet pack! Again, they asked me what my goals were and, again, I said I would be going home by Christmas, which was only two-and-a-half weeks away. Still, they looked doubtful. As a group, they all seemed to say that I shouldn’t set my hopes too high. I felt a little angry and defiant. I wanted to show them that I could do it
.

The next day, I pushed myself to exhaustion—and then some. My body kept trying to fail but I refused to let it
.

“Do you want to rest?” my therapist asked
.

“No, not yet,” I said. “I want to go a little farther.
”

She told me that I was pushing myself too hard but, before the accident, I ran six miles every morning, so I knew I had the strength in me
.

“I’m okay,” I said. “Just a little more, and then I’ll rest.
”

After ten weeks in the hospital, I took another field trip, for fun. My head and hair had taken a beating and my hair hadn’t been thoroughly washed or brushed for almost three months. It was a matted mess. Tom took me to a salon where they detangled my hair. It was a massive undertaking as two very patient young women worked for more than two hours, standing on each side of me and untangling my hair. I remember the pain of sitting in the salon chair for those two hours. Oh, God! I had no meat on my bones and, although I was sitting on a comfortable padded chair, I felt as if I was sitting on two jagged rocks and, sitting there for so long, I felt my bones pinching my skin. I tried to keep a stoic face and attitude but,
whenever I made the slightest move, the pain shot through my body
.

By the time I had to leave to return to the hospital, the women didn’t finish. They had detangled the sides but didn’t make it to the middle, having detangled about half of my hair. I walked out of the salon sporting a tangled half-Mohawk that stood straight up from the center of my scalp. I don’t know how he managed it, but Tom looked so proud, walking next to that! And I felt good. It felt so good to have my hair mostly fixed and I felt like things were looking up. Most of all, I was excited that I would soon leave the hospital!

Tom’s heart was heavy. Despite his joy that Tanya was finally coming home, he felt overwhelming dread.

He’d kept the reality of their financial situation to himself but, soon, he’d have to tell Tanya. After all those years of working two jobs so they could buy their land and build their home—after all the sacrifices they’d made so they could achieve their dreams—they would probably lose everything,
even the house
. After all they’d been through, after all
she’d
been through, they would have to start over. The bills were mounting and they already had more bills than they could pay. Collectors were calling for payments. Tom and Tanya’s dreams were slipping away.

Tom had to come up with eight-thousand dollars to make a down payment to Harborview Hospital. To help Tanya recover, he would have done whatever he had to do. He managed to raise the money but, then, Tanya’s insurance wouldn’t pay for a portable wound vacuum for her recovery at home. The wound vacuum creates negative pressure in a wound, pulling blood to the surface, encouraging healing and promoting scar tissue formation. Tanya had used one at Harborview Hospital but couldn’t continue this treatment at home, even though the device would have sped up her healing time. Tanya was almost relieved, for nothing compared to the pain of changing the tape on the wound vac. “None of the other pain came close to it.”

For her part, Tanya had made great progress during her three months in the hospital. She could stand up on her own and walk with a cane. She could navigate stairs—up and down—if someone was close by. And, more or less, she could dress herself. She was ready.

Tom bought Tanya a cute outfit for the big day. Tanya never allowed Tom to shop for himself—much less for her—because he usually chose extreme clothes in loud colors. But, when he gave Tanya her “going home” outfit, she was pleasantly surprised. He had picked out a pair of black bell bottom workout pants that had enough room to accommodate the brace that she wore on her foot, and a pretty shirt that was large enough to allow her to get her left arm into it. Tanya could tell that he put more than the usual amount of thought and effort into choosing the outfit. She was proud of him, and more than a little touched.

On December 23, 2007, Tanya was discharged from Harborview Hospital and Tom picked her up in Tanya’s brand new, blue Honda Element—one year newer than the one in which she’d been trapped. Tom had asked her what kind of car she wanted and she’d said she wanted the same car. “He knows how hard it is for me to buy good things for myself,” she said. “So, before I got home, he replaced my car.” Just like its predecessor, the car was named “Skywalker.”

Her discharge diagnoses included trauma with multiple wounds including open wounds on her hip, abdomen and thigh. She also had a shoulder dislocation, left wrist drop, left foot drop, deep-vein thrombosis, anxiety and depression. More than anything, she was in pain. Upon discharge, she took home twelve different medications, including an antidepressant and significant amounts of pain medication. Continuing with physical and occupational therapy, Tanya would also have to make doctor visits—endlessly—and she needed a visiting nurse.

They didn’t go straight home. On the way, they stopped in at the salon again so the women could finish what they had started. They fixed the rest of Tanya’s tangled hair. Tom and Tanya had planned to attend a
Christmas party but, by the time they got home, she was shot. But she was home for Christmas!

As the car approached the house, Tanya smiled when she saw that Tom had made a snowwoman in their front yard. Walking into the house, Tanya first noticed the couch set that Tom had bought her for their anniversary. She made a straight line to the couch and sat down with a smile on her face. Then she looked around. Living alone in his “man cave,” Tom had made a mess of the house. Tanya was too tired to express how mad she was, so she decided to save her anger for the next day. Besides, she realized the he still needed her as much as she needed him—not to clean up after him, but to make him do it. This thought comforted her and she barely got herself situated in her new bed before she drifted off to sleep.