Just When You Thought

Mary sat on the hood of her '92 Civic at the overlook, blanket wrapped around her, engine still warm underneath her, Austin's ever changing skyline was visible between the hills. She still couldn't believe it—the Dell Scholars Program had awarded her $20,000. She'd never seen that many zeros in a bank account let alone a single check. That would pay for almost the entire first year at UT. It was a dream!

Mary picked up her little black notebook and slid off the elastic band that held it closed. This was just the most recent in a long line of notebooks. They weren't strictly journals per se, just collections of moments for her. She stared at the blank page for a minute, then realized that was exactly how she felt and wrote in big letters:

THIS PAGE

INTENTIONALLY

LEFT BLANK

It was getting late and Mary still had over an hour drive to the campsite to meet her friends. She closed up her notebook again, rolled off the hood, creaked open the driver's door, and tossed pen, notebook, and blanket into the passenger seat. She slid behind the wheel, fished out her keys, started the car, pulled on her seat-belt, threw the Civic in reverse, and everything got blurry. An explosion consumed her entire consciousness and she was only aware of a sensation like a carnival ride that was too fast. Then stillness, but no breath. “Slow breaths.” she thought. Her next awareness was red and blue alternating and muffled voices. One of them is shouting...maybe at her.

Boots. “Why are there boots in the window. Car must've flipped. My fault. Didn't look. How can I pay for this... scholarship money. No college. Didn't look.” Mary's mind was racing to catch up.

Doctors now. Not doctors. EMS. Maybe doctors. They look worried. “Why do they look worried?” Mary wonders, she feels fine! “I feel fine.” she says, but they don't seem to hear. “I need to get to Pedernales Falls! I don't want to set up my tent in the dark.” No one seems to notice. “Hey, I need my tent! It's supposed to rain tomorrow.” Nothing. Still just worried looks. Now feeling drowsy.

Now sunlight invaded Mary's consciousness, displacing the chaos of which it was last aware. She's in a bed. A bed with plastic rails and buttons.

Mary's head throbs and forces her to be aware of it. She notices some sound and movement dangling from the wall in front of her. She watches Jason buy a vowel. She wants to sit up, but her abdomen disagrees with that strategy.

A gasp comes from her left. “Mary! Oh thank God, Mary! I'll get the nurse, I'll be right back, Pony!” General calls for a nurse trail off. No one called her “Pony” any more except...oh this must be bad if her mom was here.

“Okay,” Mary thought, “systems check.” Toes wiggle (phew!), arm hurts, a LOT “OW!” She felt the stickers all over her chest tugging at her skin when she shifted her weight. “Standard,” she reasoned. Her head felt those same tugs, too, though. “Less standard,” she worried.

The nurse entered, followed closely by Mary's mom. “Well, hi there sleepy head! Let's take a quick look at you, hon. I'm Sally, glad to meet you, I was just about to rotate out!”

“What happened?” Mary croaked.

“You were in a real nasty crash.” Nurse Sally said. “We weren't sure when you were gonna come back to us!”

“Well, I feel okay. My arm hurts a lot, and I'm guessing it's broken?” Mary deduced out loud.

She watches her mom appear to experience every emotion simultaneously. Nurse Sally just puts on what Mary can only assume is intended as a comforting expression, but it speaks volumes that she is definitely not okay.

“The doctor will be in shortly and she can tell you all about it.”

Jason guesses 'L' and Mary realizes Jason is not that bright. It's easier to focus on the TV than to dwell on what the doctor will lay bare for her in far too short a time. After watching two puzzles solved by not Jason, there's a gentle knock at the door and a tall lady in a white coat walks in. She's younger than Mary expected; maybe younger than her mom. She has the same sad smile Mary's seen on every face since she's been awake.

“Hi there! I'm Dr. Borg, yes, like from Star Trek, no, I'm not rockin' any cybernetics.” Mary liked Dr. Borg already, though the cynic in her knew that was the exact intent of that statement.

“So,” Dr. Borg continued, “Sally tells me you're feeling well except for your arm. That's good! I have to tell you, you were very lucky not to have sustained more serious injuries. I suspect that's largely because you're smart and you wear your seat-belt.” A genuine smile from the doctor. “However,” Mary's been dreading that word since she saw the expression on Sally's face. ”I also have to suspect that your arm must have been outside the window when your car was hit.” A pause, the doctor is searching for words, Mary knows that's not good. “There was extensive damage done to your left arm and shoulder. The humerus breaking probably saved your arm, but your forearm was crushed under the car. Now, your forearm has two bones in it, right? The radius and...”

The room got very small. “Crushed.” The doctor swirled back into Mary's perception.

“...some screws to stabilize the pieces of the radius so they can heal. Right now, your arm is kinda like Wolverine's, except we used stainless steel—your insurance wouldn't cover adamantium.” Dr. Borg deadpanned.

“You also sustained a concussion,” she went on, having elicited the polite smile from Mary she was clearly angling for, “and your neck is going to bother you a lot for the next couple of weeks. Other than that, it looks mostly superficial—scrapes and bruising. So now, we're just going to watch you for a couple of days to make sure you heal up alright.”

The doctor paused and let all that settle in. “Any questions for me?” Mary's mom beat her to it, “Is her arm going to be okay?”

“This type of injury,” Dr. Borg was back to picking words, “does come with risk to the patient and specifically the limb. At this point, it appears Mary will recover, but we don't yet know the full extent of nerve damage, and it's early days yet, there could be unforeseen complications.” Mary appreciated the candor, though her mother appeared further stricken.

Mary asked, “Did anyone find my notebook? It was black, with a band that held...” Her mom cut her off, “Yes, we found your little notebook! It's right over there on the table. But that's not our biggest concern right now.”

Mary just wanted them to stop talking about her “limb.”

Dr. Borg smiled passively, and waved off any suggestion of annoyance at her question: “It's fine, Mrs. Grenworth.” Now addressing Mary, “My understanding is that they did a thorough search of the vehicle and everything they recovered is right over here.” She dug through a small box and pulled out Mary's notebook. “This the one?”

Mary smiled appreciatively, though her mother glared at her for a moment before asking her next question; something about 'compartmental syndrome.' Dr. Borg started describing. Mary stopped listening. Instead, she watched Jason make an inspired guess on a high spin. Mary's mom nodded duly and put up a convincing show of relief at the doctor's explanation.

Silence fell as mother and daughter processed and, after a moment, Dr. Borg interrupted their abstraction: “Well, if you have any other questions just ask! As it stands right now, I think you're going to be fine, Mary. I know this wasn't how you expected to spend your spring break, but a few weeks in the cast and a little physical therapy after that, and you'll be right as rain before the summer's out. Just let us know if anything starts feeling worse, so we can take a peek, okay?

“Alright, well, I'll be back tomorrow at around this time to check in on you and we'll probably let you go home the next morning. Rotations are coming up, so Sally will be back in to introduce you to the new nurse who's going to take care of you tonight. Feel better, and just let us know if you need anything! It was nice meeting you two. Have a good night.”

With that, Dr. Borg was out the door and Mary and her mom were left to watch Jason somehow solve the final puzzle and win the night. They ordered dinner from the hospital room service menu and Sally came in to introduce the night nurse.

While they waited on the food, Mary's mom told her what happened. As she backed out of her spot, an SUV accidentally took the exit to the lookout. The driver of the SUV was focused on getting back on the highway and didn't anticipate anyone backing out of their spot. They were still traveling near highway speed and although they swerved, it was too late to avoid Mary's car. The working theory is that the cattle-pusher on the front of the SUV had grabbed the rear wheel-well of the Civic and not only spun the car, but lifted it just enough for the wheels on the other side to catch and flip the Civic onto its roof where it continued to spin. Mary's mom concluded the story with “I think the insurance companies are still working out who's at fault. Right now, I'm just grateful you're alive! When I saw your car...” she trailed off and turned away. She took a deep, shuddering breath and finished her sentence with a forced smile and in an octave Mary had never her her use before, “...I didn't know what to think, or if I'd ever see my little Pony again!”

“I'm so sorry for all this!” Mary said. “I didn't look, I never saw him coming, and now...” She didn't really know how to finish that sentence, so she just forged ahead with an air of bravery she didn't really feel. “We can pay whatever bills we need to with the scholarship money.” she offered, although watching her good fortune turn so abruptly was causing her more pain than her injuries. “I messed up, I'll fix it.”

“No way. That money is for school!”

“But how...”

“I'll worry about how. You worry about getting better, everything else can wait and be handled in due time.” Mary typically resented that phrase, “in due time,” because it was usually just her mom's way of saying “No” without having to say it. But this time, it was comforting to hear.

The last vestiges of twilight were gone by the time the food arrived and Mary and her mother ate while watching some random movie they found flipping through the hospital's channels. After a surprisingly satisfying dinner, Mary sent her mom home with assurances that she would be fine by herself for a night. Before she left, her mom picked up the notebook and a pen and undid the elastic strap before placing it within reach of Mary's scraped and bruised right hand. Mary's mom kissed her forehead, told her good night, smiled at her for a moment, turned, and headed out the door.

Mary turned off the TV, took the notebook and started drawing; first, a self-portrait based on what she thought she must look like with the neck brace, cast, and bandages; then, what she imagined the scene of the crash looked like for her mother. Two attempts to capture this moment. Just then it occurred to her that no amount of megapixels would ever capture a moment's impact nearly as well as some scribbles in a notebook could.