"You've had a terrible blow to the head,"
drones a doctor.
"And we want to keep you a little while for observation." I pout;
I guess I'm not going to make work today. "But first
I want to ask a few
questions to determine whether or not you may have a concussion. What day
"What is the date?"
"I'm not really sure I haven't seen a paper yet today." Doc raises his eyebrows. "It's, let me see, October the nineteenth."
I furrow my brow and purse my lips and give the doctor my best That is illogical Spock expression.
"Okay. What time of day is it?"
"Well, I was going to work and all this took about half an hour, so... I think it's about one-thirty."
Doc makes a note. "It's one-fifteen." A nurse comes in and starts taking my blood pressure. "Did you lose consciousness at any time?"
"There might have been an instant when I was trying to figure out what the heck was going on...."
"Well that's kind of normal. At the point of impact the shock will have jarred any kind of mental activity."
"B.P. ninety over sixty. Pulse seventy-four," intones the nurse.
"That's pretty good. Are you very athletic?" asks doctor.
I look down at my lithe body. "I keep active; I used to run alot."
"Well you seem okay. There's an officer here who's going to ask you about the accident in order to file a report and then we want you to relax for a little while to make sure you're okay."
A burly uniformed man walks in. "Hello. I'm Officer Holmes and I'm going to ask you about the accident in order to file a traffic incident report...."
After a boring and lengthy interrogation the officer informs me that he is charging the other driver, a woman as it turns out, with responsibility for the accident. A month later, the case comes up, and I am there to testify. I basically speak on her behalf because the insurance company has taken care of me and well, maybe she did signal. I just didn't see it. Maybe. There's that doubt that was I wondering why she was making a left turn from the right lane? Did she accidently put on the wrong blinker? I'm not quite sure....
The charges are dropped pending a probationary period, and as we are leaving she is joined by a friend a pretty brunette. I smile at them in the elevator, and when we exit her friend (roommate?) says Loser.
I ignore it. But as I walk out to Marshall Street the cold wind pulls a tear to my eye, a lump in my throat.
Mom shows up at the hospital room with tears in her eyes. "Is my darling baby okay?" sobs and a smothering hug.
"Ma, I'm okay." It takes a while to calm her down and assure her it's all right. Then a tall gentleman enters the room with flowers, a spring bouquet. He motions that they're for me and places them on the table next to my bed. He turns with a concerned look on his face and tries to smile.
"I hope everything's okay."
"Yes, I'm okay," nonchalantly, even bored, I mean, how many times have I gone over it already? "The flowers are very nice, thank you. Are you sure you have the right room?" He flinches and ever so slightly pulls back.
"Susan, this is Danny," almost sternly Mom says. Almost in awe.
"Do I know you?" He is quite handsome; maybe we met somewhere a party....
Puppy-dog eyes. "Sort of... I'm a friend of a friend." He's almost shaking in anticipation.
"Oh, I thought I recognized you. Well it's nice to meet you and thank you ever so much for the flowers Daniel." He smiles. Mom motions him outside they exchange a few words and he leaves, his head down. Nice guy. Mom comes back wearing a smile only a mother can have.
"Dear, dear... everything's gonna be all right."
"Ma, I know."