Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
Lily
Iwoke with a sharp gasp, squinting my eyes against the harsh fluorescent lights above. Every inch of my body ached with a numbness that didn’t make any sense, and my mind was too slow on the uptake, unable to connect the dots on what had happened to land me where I was and why.
Darkness threatened to pull me under again, tugging relentlessly with an unwavering persistence, making my eyelids heavy as it lured me toward the edge, half-suspended between a conscious and an unconscious state, even as I fought to resist the latter.
Muffled voices caught my attention, renewing my hope for answers, but the steady hum buzzing behind my head hindered my ability to hear them clearly.
Waking up to find myself in an isolation room in a hospital was never a situation I’d imagined, but the true terror wasn’t the sterile walls or the quarantine; it was the fact that I was utterly alone.
That thought sent an unsolicited wave of fear coursing through me, while dread dropped anchor in my stomach. I tried to move, but not one part of my body responded. I sucked in a jagged breath of confusion as another heart-stopping jolt of reality hit me.
Was I paralyzed?
My chest tightened painfully, causing panic to claw up my throat while my eyes darted around the room in frantic bursts, searching for something, anything that I could focus on.
All I could see with my nonexistent range of motion from my half-upright bed angle was a whiteboard hanging on the wall directly ahead, the edge of a window to my left with a portable HEPA Filtration machine under it, and the glint of a sliding glass door to my right.
The world narrowed to these limited fragments as trepidation pressed on my chest, suffocating and heavy.
One of the monitors above my head abruptly started beeping loudly and erratically, which thankfully would alert someone at the nurses’ station to my distress.
Time seemed to stop while I waited, helpless, other than my ability to stare at the ceiling or wall.
I willed myself to focus on my breathing, knowing I needed to steady it.
Panicking, while a natural response and the one currently barreling down on me with vengeance, wasn’t going to help the situation, whatever it would be, and I knew it.
I was in the midst of a grounding technique I often gravitated to when I needed to calm myself when the sliding glass door to my room opened, and a person in a full hazmat suit entered.
My lips parted, and I felt tiny little cracks pierce through the skin around my mouth from what I was guessing was extreme dryness. I tried to wet them with my tongue but had no luck.
“Here, let me help,” a female voice offered. “Just take small sips and focus on slowing your breath for me.”
“Than—k.” My voice croaked.
“Please don’t try to talk. You need to rest.” I took another sip from the straw in the Styrofoam cup she was holding. “I know you must be feeling alarmed, dear; the numbness in your limbs will hopefully start to ease up soon.”
My eyes widened, scared because what if it didn’t?
“You were lucky to be found when you were and—”
The doors opened again, and another person in a hazmat suit stepped through, holding an iPad.
“Hello, Lily, I’m glad to see you’re awake.” He smiled through the plastic face screen. “I’m Doctor Holt, and I’ve taken the lead on your case. Are you able to squeeze my hand?”
I watched as he slipped his glove-covered hand under my palm. I felt nothing and couldn’t move my fingers.
“Okay, it’s really important for you to stay calm and not get agitated. I promise you’re on the right path to getting better. Are you able to blink once to confirm you can hear me?”
I blinked.
“That’s good. I’m glad you’re alert and able to respond. Do you know who you are? One blink for yes, two for no.”
I blinked once.
“Excellent. That’s great, Lily. I’m sure you’re eager for answers, and I’ll do my best to bring you up to speed, but first, I want to assess your pain level. I’ll count slowly from one to ten, one being the lowest and ten being the highest. Do you understand?”
I blinked.
“Okay, please blink when I reach your pain level. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven—”
I blinked.
The numbness was hard to describe. It was a deep ache, a toss-up somewhere between the feeling of frostbite and pins and needles—intense and burning.
“Okay, that’s good. I can absolutely help mitigate that for you.” He typed something into his iPad. “Do you know why you’re here, Lily? One blink for yes, two for no.”
I blinked twice.
“From what I’ve been told, you’re a nurse over at the hospital in Rockwood. Is that correct?”
I blinked.
“You were in critical condition when you arrived via ambulance, unresponsive, and due to the situation that unfolded at the time, we had reason to suspect that a potential poisoning was the culprit. We were aggressive with life-saving measures, and further testing confirmed you had come into contact with a deadly nerve agent. You didn’t present with any puncture points, which left us to suspect either inhalation or skin contact. ”
How could something like that have happened at all? It didn’t make any sense.
“We’ve administered two antidotes, pralidoxime and atropine, to reactivate the poisoned enzyme acetylcholinesterase and manage the symptoms via intravenous infusions.
It’s important to note that in some situations, poisoning can cause respiratory muscle paralysis, but I’m happy to report that hasn’t been the case here.
You didn’t require a vent to help your breathing, which will aid in your recovery tremendously.
Your EEG also showed normal brain activity, and we’re closely monitoring your heart for any cardiac issues. ”
“Do you understand so far?”
I blinked again.
It was a lot to absorb, but the context of what he was saying wasn’t unfamiliar, as it would likely have been for someone who didn’t work in the medical field.
“Good. As you know, flushing out this type of poison isn’t an option.
Your body needs lots of rest while your enzymes repair and recover.
I’d like to keep the infusions going for at least another twenty-four hours.
We will continue running labs during that time to ensure your levels are trending in the right direction and stabilizing.
Once we are certain there’s no longer a risk to public health, we will remove you from isolation and allow visitors.
Discharge will depend on how long it takes for the muscle paralysis to subside and your fine motor skills to return, but I have to warn you, it could be a slow process.
It is important to note that everyone recovers differently. Understand?”
Yes, I blinked.
“Now, I know I’ve tossed a lot of information at you, and I can see the exhaustion in your eyes, but please take comfort in knowing there’s a small army of people eager to see you and rooting for you, Lily. You will recover from this. Time and rest will be paramount, though, okay?”
I blinked.
“The nurse will be back in a minute with some pain medication, and we’ll talk again soon. Hang in there, you’ve got this, Lily.”
He said it as if I’d ever had any other choice in the matter.
Giving up wasn’t an option, and neither was moving, apparently.
I let my eyes drift closed while the doctor’s words echoed on repeat in fragments, clinging to faith that this was just a season, a blip in time that would soon be in the past.
Sleep crept in with an all too familiar heaviness pulling me under.
Knowing it was crucial to my recovery, I didn’t resist. I allowed darkness to blanket my mind, settling over me without remorse because I wasn’t just doing this for me; I had someone worth fighting for in my corner that made this life worth it.
Jaxon.
My sense of time blurred, lacking its familiar rhythm. Light and darkness came and went with no logic or pattern. I lost count of how many times I’d stirred awake, each time my eyes peeking through a haze, noting my surroundings and feeling a little lighter each time.
At first, I thought my hand twitching was a muscle spasm.
Then it happened again, and I watched in wonder as my fingers spread out over my covers, feeling the rough cotton hospital blanket against my skin.
My whole body jolted with joy and a broken breath as I realized my senses were starting to return.
It was the sign I desperately needed.
I cried myself to sleep, feeling so much gratitude and hopeful that this living nightmare would soon be over. The next few times I woke, the aching stiffness deep in my bones remained, but I was determined to stay positive, believing it was all a step in the right direction to reclaiming my body.
When my consciousness pulled me from my latest slumber, there was a heavy weight resting on my stomach that wasn’t there before and a wave of heat emanating from it. I tried to arch my back and stretch, but it was of no use because the blankets were pinned down and unforgiving.
When I opened my eyes, what I saw made my heart skip a beat.
“Jaxon.” My breath hitched, and tears stung my eyes at the sight of him.
His body jerked upright beside me with a grimace of pain at war with the look of immense relief glossing over his facial expression.
“Lily.” My name tore from his throat, thick with emotion. “Oh, thank God, Lils.” He pressed a soft kiss to my lips, lingering just long enough to make my heart swell with gratitude. “You came back to me.”
The kiss was gentle, like a silent prayer of worship, before he leaned back with his eyes anxiously searching mine as if he were trying to decide if I was real, or just a fragile fantasy toying with his reality.
I echoed what I believed he was thinking. “Please tell me this isn’t a dream and that you’re really here with me?”