Chapter 44 Paradiso
Paradiso
Autumn
I don’t remember waking up.
I do remember confusion. Anger. Fear.
People tried to calm me down. Maybe ripping something out of me. Flashes of the past came reeling back. The fear of being in the hospital or stuck in that abandoned building.
But I remember his voice. His hands. I could feel his wedding ring against my skin, gripping me. Moments of his face above me. Hazel eyes.
Leo.
Familiar voices drift like a distorted symphony. And then flickers of where I am. Confusion filling me when I see rows of movies. A television screen. Home.
How?
Time feels unreal as it seems like every moment I open my eyes, something new is happening. Someone else is talking. Being moved and wanting to scream. I think I do, because every time I think it, Leo’s voice comes back again. His hands touching me, the only thing calming me.
He’d never put me in harm. He’d never—
Until there’s finally quiet. Slowly, my mind begins to catch up to the present. It feels like I’m one of my computers rebooting and coming back online. Air gently blows into my nose.
I open my eyes. I’m in the television room. Blinking some more, I try to reach up to touch the tubing around my face. There’s IVs in my arm. My shoulder…chest.
“That needs to stay, Autumn,” Leo’s voice drifts as his hand brings mine down.
“Leo?” I ask in a rough voice.
I’m able to focus better as his face comes into view. Faint bruises. He hasn’t shaved for days, perhaps longer. Dark circles under his eyes. He almost looks gaunt. What happened?
“You’re safe, dear Watson.” His voice is raspy, bringing my left hand up to kiss it. “You’re home, sweetheart.”
I feel my brows pinch, and then there’s movement at the doorway.
A woman walks in with chestnut hair and a light sandy skin tone. She’s taller and wears a pleasant smile as I notice a stethoscope around her neck. She goes to the other side of the bed.
“Hello again, Mrs. Luciano,” she greets, voice warm with a heavy English accent. “I’m Dr. Howell. I was who oversaw your tests and primary treatment before coming back to the U.S. You seem more awake and coherent today, which is a good sign of you coming out of the final stages of your coma.”
“England?” I ask, clearing my dry throat. “Why are you here?”
“It appears I’m the only physician your husband trusts,” she muses, giving him a look and then over to the monitors next to me.
I glance at Leo, where there’s not a lick of guilt on his face. I whisper, “Did you kidnap a doctor?”
“No.”
“He…” she pauses, “…inquired I come for a week. The hospital in which I have my residency, gave me leave after someone gave a very large amount of donations to two of their departments.”
Dr. Howell diligently checks my oxygen, every IV, and catheter she calls them, and then does something briefly over my eyes for movement. A part of me wants to recoil from her, but she speaks in a comforting tone, telling me everything she’s about to do. Leo never leaves my side.
“Um…I’m not sure if you already told me,” I say, as she finishes. “How…how long was I…I asleep?”
She looks over at Leo, who clears his throat. My head rests back as I feel a tug of exhaustion. He strokes the side of my face, and then he answers my question. “27 days.”
My breathing slows, eyes widening. That’s why the bruises were faded. Him having a beard. Why he looked worse than when I came back from New Jersey after a week. Holy fuck I was in a coma for a month.
Panic starts to grip me.
“Autumn.” Dr. Howell brings my attention to her.
“I know it’s scary, realizing how long you’ve been asleep, but you’re awake now.
Your vitals look good. Oxygen is a little low which is why we need this.
” She gestures to the thing propped into my nose.
“In all honesty, it’s quite a miracle there’s not more damage or complications that could’ve occurred. You’re very lucky.”
Knowing how I got here, doesn’t feel like it.
“How did the…how? Why?”
“During the first tests, and I’m assuming the only testing allowed…
” she glimpses at Leo, “…there was some swelling of the brain from the blunt force trauma you endured. There were also high levels of a drug that I believe was part of the cause for the coma as well. I’ve been informed of your medical history, and this wasn’t your first coma or trauma you’ve survived, am I correct? ”
I slowly nod my head.
“The brain is a peculiar thing. My own theory is that with the head trauma coupled with the number of injuries your body took, it was trying to heal itself. Perhaps, remembering the first time. In the medical field we place people into medically induced comas to heal faster. It could’ve done it on its own without the help of proper drugs. Not a solid theory, mind you.”
“What injuries did I…do I have?”
“There’s a good chance most of these are healed or almost are,” she answers, turning to grab a folder.
Leo gently squeezes my hand, and I do it back.
My head swims already from the information, but I want to know.
Need to. “Several cracked ribs. Stress fracture in your right foot. Sprained ankle in your left. Severe damage to the soles of your feet; we had a lot of glass to take out. Scrapes, cuts, and bruises. And a spinal contusion along with a lower back contusion due to harsh physical impact.”
Panic spikes again, as I glance down at my feet and wiggle them.
“You still have movement and feeling in your limbs, which is good,” she explains. “In a few weeks, you’ll learn more on where your mobility is. You’ll need to go through quite a bit of physical therapy for the coma alone.”
“So…no running in the marathon this year,” I try to joke.
She smiles. “No.”
I look over at Leo, who watches me like I’m gonna disappear.
“I do have a request,” Dr. Howell asks.
“Sure, doc,” I whisper.
“Although you’re awake, that doesn’t mean you’re entirely out of the woods.
I want to advise you to get a series of tests again.
CT. MRI. X-Ray. Blood tests. To ensure there are no lingering complications that haven’t been caught here at home.
You’re also on TPN.” I give her a confused look.
“Total Parenteral Nutrition. Meaning these IVs and catheter instead of a feeding tube. The tests will give us a better idea of where you are in the healing process to move forward.”
My heart starts to pound, and the monitor I’m hooked up to kicks up. The beeping intensifying.
“Autumn, you don’t have to,” Leo says quietly, holding my hand tighter.
“I will be with you the entire time or your husband will be,” she reassures me.
Her face becomes grave suddenly, whilst trying to be understanding.
“At least a brain scan to ensure the swelling has gone down. Your husband has already done a superb job in ensuring your best interests, so anything you don’t want we won’t. ”
“Do I…I have to stay there?”
“Normally, I would advise you to,” she says gently.
“But…this is a peculiar situation. Remarkably, Mr. Luciano’s instincts have proven to be true in regards of your health.
As long as nothing major appears endangering your health, then you can come home.
The hospital will try to make you stay, but you can refuse treatment.
Unless your husband wants to donate money again to shut their traps, which will likely work, too. ”
I’m starting to understand why Leo flew this doctor in from England.
I look down at myself, trying to think through a fog of emotions and whirling concerns.
“I know this is a lot to digest,” Dr. Howell adds. “But this decision should be done soon.”
“Can I have a moment with my husband?” I ask quietly.
She nods, stepping out of the room and even closes the doors.
“Autumn, if you don’t want—”
“Thank you,” I murmur. I turn my head, looking over at Leo as his face remains solemn. “I know it must’ve been hard, and I’m so sorry.”
“No, I promised you.”
My eyes move over him. I see the exhaustion. I’ve no idea what he’s been through while I’ve been asleep. Here, but not really. And the thought of leaving him completely tears at my soul.
“I’ll do the tests,” I say.
“Autumn.”
“I have you. I’m not alone this time.” I squeeze his hand. “I can do it.”
A smile pulls at my lips, and Leo’s face starts to crumble. His hand trembles as he reaches to cup my face, and I kiss his palm. The pain upon his face worsens.
“I’m here, Leo,” I whisper as tears glisten in his eyes. “I’m here, baby.”
He leans close to kiss my forehead, moving down so that his mouth is a breath away from mine. “Dear Watson, my dear Watson.”
My heart aches as he finally kisses me, like he’s afraid I’ll vanish. He’s tender. Almost too soft as if I’m too fragile. Leo pulls away and places another upon my cheek.
“I love you. And I’ve missed you,” he murmurs.
“I love you, Leo.”
Not long after, we call the doctor back in to get me to the hospital.
At this point, I’m convinced my brain refuses to remember anything about medical treatment.
The hospital visit is a blur as if a part of me just shuts down or numbs out from instinct of fear and disdain for it.
I barely remember the tests, going into the machines that make my heart race as doctors try to soothe me.
The smell of cleaning supplies. The random sounds from other patients or rolling gurneys.
Leo constantly there, and I think Trix, later on, too. Or maybe I’m just remembering the past.
The swelling of my brain has gone down. Most of my injuries were healed or on their way. There’s still concern about the contusions, mainly in my lower back. All I really remember is to rest and heal.