A week had passed since I woke up from my medically-induced
coma. I was antsy, anxious to get out of this God-forsaken hospital. Dr. Monroe
was amazing and the therapist that worked with me were awesome, but I was never
alone.
Okay, let me rephrase.
I was never alone with Edward.
Whenever he was there, so was my dad. And the looks my
father was giving to Edward were downright evil and malicious. I wanted to say
something, but I didn’t know the story.
Ruminating on this thing with Edward and my dad helped me
forget the pain I felt in my side and the fact that the connection from my brain
to my feet was sluggish. I could feel everything, but if I tried to walk, move,
anything, my body wouldn’t cooperate.
Dr. Monroe explained that it was spinal shock. My condition had improved since
I was I brought in on the helicopter. I didn’t have any response to stimuli.
Yes, it had improved, but would I be stuck in a wheelchair
for the rest of my life?
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