***
"Watch," the blonde's voice resonated. "Look at James's heart rate. Whenever I come into the room it speeds up. I did it when he was in the coma. It's still happening, isn't that cool?"
I opened my eyes. Two vaguely familiar people were in the room with the blonde. They stopped talking and turned their attention to me. "James, you gave us quite the scare," an older good-looking lady said. She looked like the younger blonde, but wiser, more weathered, the first hint of crow's feet etched the corner of her eyes. Her hair wasn't as wild but she was dressed much more seductively, wearing a low cut blouse that tied between raised and tucked breasts. Though I couldn't define cleavage, I knew what I saw. I'm convinced the older blonde's attire guided me through the first step of a long and painful recovery.
The other person, an unremarkable male, who would have blended into the wall if the other two didn't prod him, spoke: "How are you son?" He patted my arm. For weeks I struggled to describe my father, especially in the shadow of the older blonde. How do you describe a white wall on which a masterpiece hangs?
During the following days, after I was moved into an ordinary room, life resumed with some semblance of routine. Physical therapy was heaped upon physical therapy; on occasion Dr. Whatever his name, the neurologist, had me put square pegs in square holes.
At night, either of the blondes or my father visited, always at least one of them, sometimes two, and once even the three. I complained that I didn't understand why I was in the hospital. "Why are they keeping me prisoner?" I questioned the younger blond. "I want to get out of here," I complained to my father. "I'd heal faster at home," I reasoned with the older blond.
"Where is home?" she asked.
"Home is home," I answered. I hadn't a clue.
"Be honest doctor, what's James' prognosis?" I heard the older blond ask Dr. Whatever. She cornered him just inside my room. She thought I was asleep.
"None of James' superficial injuries pose any problems. The arm fractures should heal, his knees are banged up, he will require physical therapy - maybe additional surgery. His brain injury has me concerned. A prognosis, at this stage - it's too early to say. We'll be transferring James to Lenape Valley Rehab. They have a great brain injury unit. Then we can evaluate the damage and begin recovery.