The Golden Visit, Page 3

turbulent emotions. He leaned his head back into the cocoon of the imposing headrest and closed his eyes, not caring if he slept this time now that the visit was complete.

  The next thing he knew, he heard a small beeping noise and the nurse was hovering before him.

  Lance tried to get his bearings. “I think I fell asleep after all,” he remarked, the edges of his perception still fuzzy.

  “It happens often,” the nurse said, holding her hand out to assist Lance from the deep crater of the leather chair. “Are you alright?”

  Lance wasn’t sure how to answer that, so he said nothing, still disoriented from the entire experience.

  The nurse didn’t seem offended by it. “I will take you to see the doctor now for your departure consultation.”

  He followed her down the hall, mute, longing for nothing more than to see Melanie again, just one more time. Along the way, Lance craned his neck, searching every door they passed for a clue that would lead him to his wife. And there it was, Room 302, with the smallest print under the room number: M. Hudson.

  Lance stopped in his tracks, just outside the door. “She’s in here,” he stated, the unspoken question still obvious to the nurse. Without waiting for permission, he tried the doorknob but it was securely locked.

  “You can’t go in there, sir,” the nurse said nervously. Lance’s eyes revealed a man desperate, crazed.

  “Please,” he begged. “If she’s really in there you have to let me see her, just one more time.”

  The nurse hesitated, indecision perched on her shoulders as she grappled with whether she would follow the rules, or allow the forlorn man before her to follow his heart.

  “Please,” he said again, mournful and bereft.

  “This is completely against protocol,” the nurse warned, and at that moment Lance knew she was going to relent. “You have two minutes.”

  “Okay,” Lance agreed hurriedly. “I promise I won’t cause any trouble.”

  The nurse unlocked the door and Lance rushed into the room, but what he saw before him was so jarring he spent the first few seconds just staring at his wife, stunned. Cautiously, he moved closer to the bed, trying for all his might to reconcile the wife lying on the bed with the wife he had just seen.

  Melanie was motionless, her eyes closed and a respirator covering the bottom half of her hollow face. She was emaciated, skinnier than he’d ever seen her. The left side of her head was bald, where a portion of her skull had been removed to alleviate brain swelling. The hair that remained on her head was matted and dull. Her skin looked ashen and her lips were cracked and dry.

  Lance looked to the nurse who was standing just inside the room and she mistook his bewildered expression for accusation. “She just arrived last night. We do more to ensure the comfort of our patients, despite their circumstances. Someone here will comb her hair daily, manipulate her limbs, and moisturize her skin and lips.”

  Lance moved beside his wife’s bed and grasped her hand, which felt papery and dry. She made no motion to squeeze his fingers in response, remaining limp and cold.

  “But she’s so thin,” he lamented. “Even thinner than a week ago before I arranged the transfer to Bright Horizons.”

  “Coma patients lose weight,” the nurse explained apologetically. “IV fluids provide only enough nourishment to keep the body alive.” The nurse consulted her iPad. “And Melanie has been comatose for over six months.”

  “I know how long she’s been in a coma,” Lance snapped, grief posing as anger in his consternation. Painful memories of the car accident that injured him and almost killed his wife came hurtling back, making him despondent and weak.

  He just couldn’t reconcile the differences between the Melanie in his visit and the one lying before him. It was a stark contrast. “But during the visit, she seemed so healthy and young, the way she looked back in college. How is that even possible?” Lance wondered aloud.

  The nurse shrugged her shoulders, almost imperceptibly. “Your mind recreated her with the physical image most appealing to you.” The nurse moved to one of the machines beside Melanie’s bed and lifted a small, metal headgear. “This is what she wore during the visit, to allow her brainwaves to mingle with yours. It was linked to the same type of sensors in the headrest of your massage chair. After we paged you to alert you the visit was over, we removed her headgear, which meant she could no longer interact with you.”

  Lance barely acknowledged the nurse. He had done copious research. He knew very well how this all worked. “Melanie,” he said urgently, “I love you. Come back to me, babe.”

  “Okay,” the nurse interrupted sharply. “It’s not in the best interest of the patient to have a physical visit immediately following the virtual visit. It can confuse the brain.”

  And Lance wanted to do nothing that would harm his wife in any way, so he backed off. Before he left though, he asked the nurse for an extra blanket and spread it lovingly over Melanie. “She told me she was cold in here,” he explained. “Can you adjust the thermostat as well?”

  “We will,” the nurse assured him, and gently urged him to leave the room.

  ●●●

  After Lance had enough time to compose himself, the nurse brought him to see Dr. Gilbert once again.

  “How are you handling all this?” the doctor asked him.

  “So many different emotions,” Lance replied, distracted.

  “That’s a common response. You do know that your wife is unaware she is in a coma, and she does not remember the trauma.”

  “I didn’t know that,” Lance admitted, but it explained a lot about her disposition during the visit.

  “I have a few questions for you about how this initial visit went,” the doctor said. “Did she get upset at any point?”

  “No,” Lance answered. “She was perfectly content and happy the entire time.”

  “Good,” the doctor pursed his lips. “Upsetting the patient can cause regression. What about her injuries? Did you mention them at all?”

  Lance shook his head, remembering that he came close, but not quite.

  “Very well. This is crucial, as any mention of her injuries can cause mental confusion for the patient – she imagines herself fully whole and cannot recall any details of the accident in her suspended state. That reality, at least, is outside of her reach. It’s the same reason you cannot try to touch her. As you well know, you are not physically in the same room as her during the visit. This failure of physical contact when you have reached for her causes discord within the subconscious and can throw one or both of you from the visit.”

  “That makes sense,” Lance said. “When can I see her again, doctor?”

  “We limit the virtual visits to a maximum of one per month. Anything more frequent can actually create fatigue in the patient and setbacks along recovery,” Dr. Gilbert answers. “The visits, while very beneficial for the patient’s mental health, can be physically taxing. Of course, you may come to her physical bedside whenever you like. We encourage you to make sure you do that as well.”

  “And I will,” Lance said with conviction, vowing to do everything within his power to help his wife heal herself and emerge from the coma.

  The doctor spoke again with a pensive look on his jowly face. “There’s something charmed and magical about being able to visit with a loved one you thought you might never have the chance to interact with again. It’s as precious as gold, that’s why we call your first time ‘The Golden Visit’. Your love and presence will eventually bring her back to you. Comatose patients need a reason to return to us – they need to recapture that zest for life, a sense that they have something to live for. Here at Bright Horizons we feel that rehabilitating the mind is just as important, if not even more so, than repairing the body. That’s why we say “Rehabilitation With Heart” – we recognize more than anyone that the entire being, that is, all parts of the human mind and body are essential in the equation for healing.”

  And Lance couldn’t agree more. It’
s the reason he put all his hopes and dreams on the philosophy of this place, hoping against all odds that they would one day help his wife find her way back to him from the depths of her suspended prison.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  K. Baskett is the author of full-length novel, No Greater Illusion, available on Amazon.

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  And coming soon, the full-length novel, Envelope: Red.

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