Chapter 8
8
GUY ‘FOSTER’
As soon as I hear the words ‘extubation is a go’, I pull my hand from Eve, but another hand stops me. One stronger than Eve’s.
‘This is normal. Patients waking from a coma while intubated can be confused and combative. Why don’t you wait in the hall while we get this out and examine him,’ a male voice says.
I grab Eve’s hand to keep her close. No way am I doing this without her. Stay, Evie. I try to open my eyes to see her. Ouch! Bad idea. Retreat. Light hurts. Wait, no, I have to do this. I squint. Blinking a few times, attempting to get Eve’s attention.
‘His eyes are open!’ Eve says. ‘He also won’t let go of my hand, so I can’t go out in the hall.’
Success! (Eye-burning blindness aside.)
‘Mr Foster.’ A man comes into my blurry gaze, the light I once thought was the white light of death flashing before each eye again. ‘I need you to stay calm while we remove this tube. It’ll be just a few minutes. Breathe through your nose and try to relax.’
I nod as much as I can, my gaze moving to where Eve’s voice has been coming from. I can’t see her clearly, but I know it’s her. She’s got both hands around mine, holding it to her chest, and I can feel her shaking.
Before, when I’d answer ‘would you rather die by drowning or shooting’, I’d choose drowning – seems like a peaceful way to go. But I’d like to change my answer. Please, just shoot me. This is torture. After a few terrifying minutes where I thought I’d die, the death hose has been extracted from my trachea, and I pull in a deep breath. I can’t get enough. Each time, I cough uncontrollably.
‘Let’s slow down the breathing, Mr Foster. Try not to panic.’ The voice of the doctor is calming, and that helps me follow orders. A nurse slips a face mask with air blowing over my face. ‘Breathe in through your nose and out through your mouth. Chelsea will give you something to help you relax a little.’
I do the breathing technique they’re giving me but can’t relax at all because my gaze is locked onto Eve’s. She’s actually here. My wife. Er – ex-wife, but it still counts, considering I was beginning to wonder if her voice was just a hallucination to help me get through this. Now that my eyes are open and I can almost see her clearly, I know every word was real and that she has been here, every single day I have.
‘E…’ I try to say her name when I feel like I’ve caught my breath, but a gravely sounding E is all that leaves my lips.
‘No talking, Mr Foster. Right now, we breathe. Later, we chat,’ the doctor coaches.
‘Focus, Foster. Breathe like this.’ Eve holds my hand tightly to her chest, inhaling deeply, encouraging me to follow along. So I do. I’d probably do anything she asked after dreaming about her for what feels like months.
She’s nice to look at, even prettier than the photo that haunts me. The woman I assume is Chelsea is now injecting something into my IV line and it takes a matter of seconds for the so-called ‘relaxation medication’ to kick in and my mind starts feeling as malleable as putty on a scorching summer sidewalk. It’s like an out-of-body experience, with me hovering over my damaged shell, floating high in the sky. Earth to Foster – don’t fade out yet. I attempt to pull myself back to real life, gripping Eve’s hand, but it’s not happening. How much relaxation do I need? I don’t even know if it’s day or night.
As I lie here, my chest heaving, I feel every second ticking by like hours. Nurses and doctors hurry in and out of the room, their footsteps echoing through the sterile space. But amidst all the chaos, Eve stays, her eyes fixed on me. I can’t help but stare back, completely captivated by her. Every fiber of my being aches, a constant reminder of how fragile life can be. Yet all I can think about is her. She’s different, yet somehow more beautiful than ever.
Despite the temporary pandemonium of the room, it’s as if nothing else exists except the two of us. The rest of the world fades away, and all that’s left is her and me. I want to ask her all the questions that are swirling around in my head. But as I open my mouth to speak, all that comes out is a ragged gasp.
‘Eve, why don’t you talk to him?’ Chelsea suggests.
After a moment of hesitation, she finally speaks up with a timid voice. ‘Oh… um, OK. Hey?’ she says meekly. ‘How’s your day?’ Her adorable, crooked smile hints that she’s teasing me. ‘Honestly, that was terrifying to watch. I thought I was going to witness you taking your last breath more times than once.’ She pauses, swallowing hard. ‘For the record, I’m glad you didn’t.’
Considering her last spoken words to me were, ‘You’ll probably kill yourself on that thing, and I won’t miss you at all,’ it’s a bit bewildering to hear her say that last part.
‘Keep talking, Eve. His vitals are settling. You’re soothing him.’
‘That’s probably just the medication,’ she says, flashing a smart-ass smile. ‘So, did you at least place?’
I lift my good shoulder and nod, implying that of course I did. But honestly, that’s doubtful.
She rolls her eyes playfully.
‘He lived,’ the man wearing the white coat says. ‘Seems like first place to me.’
And I woke up just in time to not listen to the Britney Spears book next. If only I could say that out loud.
‘No Britney.’ I croak the words out, a hair above a whisper, but Eve somehow hears them.
Her lips part, and her jaw drops open, revealing a smile. ‘She’s going to be so offended by that when I tell her.’
Despite my attempt to let out a chuckle, the persistent coughing takes over. The tickle in my throat is relentless, and no matter how hard I try to suppress it, the coughing persists, sending waves of discomfort throughout my body. Once I get the coughing under control, I attempt to speak again.
‘Also, Chandler Bing lives forever.’
Eve’s eyes grow wide, as she probably realizes that I could indeed hear her, just like the nurses warned. Even so, she laughs at my croaking voice. ‘Sshhhhh,’ she says. ‘Doctor’s orders.’
‘How about a Popsicle?’ Chelsea asks enthusiastically.
I nod. It’s no doughnut, but considering I haven’t eaten or had anything to drink in years (or so it feels), it’s a yes from me.
‘You’ve got a lot of injuries,’ the doctor says after thoroughly inspecting me.
‘But I woke up,’ I say with a gravelly voice.
‘You did wake up,’ he agrees with a slight smile. ‘Do you remember how you got here?’
I think back but my mind is like quicksand – thoughts popping into my head and sinking away before the words reach my lips. I had a competition. It feels like ages ago, but that’s the last memory that comes to mind.
I shake my head. Slowly I move my eyes downwards to see what exactly I’m looking at here. My left arm is immobile and strapped to my chest, probably to avoid any further injury based on how it feels. At first glance, nothing appears to be a severe injury, but as I shift my weight slightly, a sharp, piercing pain shoots through the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine and causing me to groan involuntarily. The discomfort is so intense that I can’t help but clench my teeth and close my eyes tightly, hoping that the pain will subside soon.
‘You bruised your cervical spine pretty badly, so move slowly,’ the doctor says, gently pushing my head back on the pillow. ‘Last thing you remember, Mr Foster?’ the doctor asks.
‘I had a competition.’
He nods. Must’ve gotten that answer right. ‘How’d that go?’ he asks.
‘I dunno,’ I answer honestly.
‘Hmmm, tell me about one of your FMX titles.’ The doctor changes tactics.
Despite my voice cracking in and out like I’m going through puberty, this is a topic I could talk about for days. ‘Moto X Big Air. Best Trick at the X Games in Philly. Gold at Red Bull X-Fighters Grand Slam tours in Madrid. Three golds at the FMX Nitro World Games. A few silvers at the Summer X Games…’
Eve and the doctor lock eyes, their expressions revealing much about their thoughts. The doctor appears impressed.
‘I said one, but wow. Congratulations.’
Meanwhile, Eve’s face wears a familiar expression – a mix of skepticism and mild amusement, as if she’s thinking, ‘Yep, he really is this cocky.’
‘Your long-term memory seems fine. But you’ve got no memory of your recent race that put you here?’
I shut my eyes tightly, trying to remember. As far as I know, we had arrived at our destination on a Thursday. But after that, everything is blank. I shake my head again.
The sound of shoes sliding on a slick floor suddenly interrupts us. All eyes turn toward the door as Matty, with his disheveled, dark, graying hair and prominent crow’s feet, rushes into the room. His face is creased with worry as he slides to a stop upon catching sight of us.
‘You’re awake?’ He sounds relieved. ‘They called me yesterday to tell me this would be happening soon, but I hoped to make it beforehand. How do you feel?’
‘Shitty,’ I say.
The doctor leans into Matty and says, ‘Mr Foster’s having a hard time remembering what brought him here.’
Matty lets out a hearty laugh. ‘You didn’t quite stick the landing, my friend,’ he says with a grin. ‘I’m not exactly sure where your head was at’ – he shoots a look at Eve – ‘but it was pretty clear to everyone watching that your timing was off midway through your second run.’
I furrow my brows. I didn’t land a jump? How don’t I remember this? I look over at Eve, whose eyebrows are raised with concern as if she knows something I don’t. The memory feels so close, yet so far, like it’s just on the tip of my tongue, tantalizingly out of reach.
‘I’m going to order an MRI and have another look at his head, and consult with Dr Greene in Neurology. Him not remembering could be nothing, just part of coming to after this critical of injuries. No one worry yet. Just as a heads-up, Mr Foster, you’ll be headed in for another surgery on your shoulder and wrist in the coming days, so save your energy for now, and do not even attempt to leave this bed.’
‘Yes, sir,’ I say, knowing when to follow orders.
‘How long will he be here?’ Matty asks.
‘Oh, probably another week or so,’ Dr Sully says. ‘For now, you’ll head down for an MRI and a CT within the hour. Maybe tonight you could have some dinner?’
Oh, finally, food. I feel like I’ve been on a hunger strike – dreaming of doughnuts and no way to eat. Now, I can. I hope this place has an all-you-can-eat buffet.
‘Do you have lobster?’ I ask, mostly kidding.
‘You can have the lobster bisque,’ the nurse suggests with a light smile. ‘For hospital food, it’s pretty good really. We’ll have to start slow on the solids since you haven’t eaten in a few days. Soup. Crackers. Jell-O. Popsicles.’
She hands me the red Popsicle now unwrapped, causing Eve to release my hand. I’ve got no qualms about a Popsicle. Food is food. I glance at Eve. ‘Stay for dinner with me?’
‘Aww,’ Chelsea says with a gushing smile.
Matty groans. ‘Slow down, Casanova, it’s been five minutes and you’re already asking her out on a date?’
‘I think it’s cute,’ Nurse Chelsea says. My eyes have finally focused on the badge on her chest and I’m putting together her face and voice. ‘They’re in love.’
Both Matty and I raise an eyebrow. ‘Love, huh?’ He says it first, and by the look on Eve’s face, she’s unsure.
She nods slightly, ignoring the statement altogether. ‘Sure, the least I can do is stay for dinner,’ she says. ‘How about you, Matty? You staying?’
Three’s a crowd, girl – has no one ever told you that? I know everything there is to know about Matty. It’s her I want to catch up with. But like I can say no to having my best friend here with us. Maybe he will help with the awkward vibe now pulsating through the room. I’m not sure what it is, but I’m sure I’ll find out shortly.