July 14, 2034 - near Washington, DC
The room was full … which wasn't saying much as the room wasn't all that large. The base hospital had ordered these 14 patients and their spouses, family, or significant others to report to here after completing some basic physical therapy. Most of the patients were amputees, though a few were paraplegic or quadriplegic. The hospital staff had called it therapy … and, frankly, most of the people were curious. The room was set-up with comfortable chairs and wide aisles. Most had expected a lecture hall set-up, which was, of course, the standard for military courses. A few had feared the dreaded circle like some sort of support group. Instead, it was more like a rec center or home theater room.
On the wall, a large television screen played a set of pictures on a loop. They were obviously pictures of a family: two boys and a girl, playing separately in some, together in others. Occasionally, a woman with long brown hair would be standing off to the side. But, in one or two of the photos, she was front and center; the kids clustered around her. It was a beautiful family, but everyone wondered what the purpose was. Once everyone was settled in the room, the final family photo froze, the brunette forever smiling at the camera while one of the boys fidgeted on her lap. The other boy and the girl were gathered around, but it was strange. The girl was standing next to her mother, but the boy was a few feet to the left and separated from the rest of the group.
"They are beautiful kids, right," asked a voice from the back of the room, startling everybody. The brunette from the pictures had silently entered the room and starting walking to the front. She was beautiful in an unconventional way and knew how to dress. She wore a tight sleeveless black turtleneck that accentuated her ample bust and a short checkered skirt with black knee boots. If you looked closely, you might notice the laugh lines around her eyes and a few strands of grey mixed into the brown. She walked to the front of the room, the 4-inch heels on her boots clicking on the hardwood as she reached for the TV screen, pointing to the girl.
"That's Evelyn Sarah. She's 12, going on 34." That elicited a chuckle from a couple of people. Pointing to the boy on the left, she said, "That's Jorge. He's 16 and named after his grandpa. The little one in my lap is Daniel. He'll be 6 next week. Each one is talented, and they make me proud every day."
She paused, her eyes sweeping over the room.
"But, that's not why you're here. Is it? You're here because your doctors ordered you to be here. You were told to bring your spouse or your girlfriend or, in a couple of cases, mom or dad. And you probably showed up grudgingly because … hey, at least for now, you're still in the military … and you go where they order you to go." Several eyes had looked down at the floor at this last part. Everyone in this room knew that it just a matter of time before they were discharged and sent home. For most of them, home is now a foreign and scary place. Certainly not the warm and inviting refuge they left when they deployed.
"Now I know what you're thinking … what does this lady with her perfect body and working limbs know about what I'm going through? More than might think. Oh sure, hundreds of soldiers, sailors, airmen, and Marines have passed through this program. But, that's not where I got my education on your challenges. My education has been of a much more personal kind. Watch."
The lights dimmed, and the screen went black. When the screen flared back to life, the audience was treated to several short clips of some high school cheerleaders in red and white uniforms with the letters WMHS emblazoned across their chest. The camera was focused on a girl with raven black hair as she tumbled, cartwheeled, and performed several death-defying stunts. The video cut to an awards ceremony where the raven-haired girl stood next to two taller blondes holding a trophy. They were smiling and cheering for the camera. The raven-haired girl then broke away and ran over to a younger looking version of the woman they had just met. The girls hugged and then the raven-haired girl took the other girl's hand and dragged her over the cheerleaders.
The video cut again to a backstage practice area where the cheerleaders were warming up. The raven-haired girl ran through a complicated tumbling routine. She was obviously very good. The team's supporters cheered her on. A familiar voice behind the camera could be heard shouting, "Way to go, San. Carmel better be ready to get their asses kicked." The girl who answered to the name San smiled at the camera and then said, "Yeah, Rae. And after I kick their ass, I'm going to show you just how I celebrate." She wiggled her eyebrows in what was obviously meant to be a sexy way. "Hey, watch this new routine Sue came up with." She ran off to the far side of the practice area while three other girls took different spots on the mat. San ran towards the girls, executing a difficult tumbling pass. On her last flip, her foot landed in one of the cheerleader's hands, which were forming a basket. Those hands pushed up on San's leg and launched her over the base cheerleader and into a flying flip. But, it was immediately evident that something had gone wrong. The two girls waiting to catch her must've misjudged the distance because San flipped right past them and landed off the mat on the hard concrete floor. Her scream was the last thing they heard as the screen want black again.
The lights came back up. Next to the woman they now knew as Rae was an older version of San. She was still strikingly beautiful, even if her hair was more liberally streaked with gray. She wore a skintight black shirt with a plunging neckline and equally tight black jeans tucked into a pair of black over-the-knee boots with similar stiletto heels to Rae's. However, unlike Rae, she wasn't standing. Rather she was seated in a sleek red and white wheelchair with carbon fiber spokes. It wasn't like the ones you got from the hospital. It was smaller, custom fit to the user and without armrests. The footrest was custom as well. Instead of the usual tube, it flared into something like a step. It undoubtedly helped when San wore heels, like today. Of course, only Rae knew about San's addiction to heels that continued even after her accident.
"I took my last steps ever at 4:52 p.m. on February 3, 2012. I still remember the sound of my L3 vertebrae shattering from the force of the landing. And I can still picture the terrified look on Rae's face as I told her that I couldn't feel my legs. I remember the feeling of hopelessness and despair that followed. I can remember the night that I tried to kill myself." She paused. "I also remember how Rachel held my hand through the ambulance ride, how she was there when I woke up and how she held me as I cried after being told that I'd never walk again. She was there with me through the physical therapy. She put up with my bad attitude, all my insults and nasty remarks. She never left me."
"I still remember February 3, 2012, but it's a distant memory. It's not nearly as important as August 21, 2014, my birthday and the day I got engaged. Or November 12, 2018, when my first son was born. January 12, 2022 or July 23, 2028. Or the thousands of days in between. When I was 17, I never pictured myself as a paraplegic in a wheelchair. But, then I was going to college on a cheerleading scholarship where I would continue to be Head Bitch in Cheer. It's a lot harder to cut a bitch when you can't run away. I figured after a couple of years I would move to LA and become a model or an actress. It's funny how a single moment can change your world."
Rachel, who had held San's hand as she spoke, now stepped forward. "It didn't just change her life either. I was heading to New York and Broadway after graduation. I had already applied to NYADA and had signed up to audition in April. After Santana was paralyzed, my whole world changed, too. Singing and Broadway were my two focuses for the first 16 years of my life … and San tried to force me to continue down that road. She didn't want to hold me back, especially since she truly believed that her life was over. She would be a Lima Loser forever. No Louisville, no LA, no future."
"But the truth is that the world didn't end. San may not have made it to Louisville, but she did go to college and so did I, but not in music theater or the arts as I had planned. I dropped all my applications and applied to the pre-med program at Columbia University instead. New York Presbyterian Hospital has one of the top 10 neurosurgical residency programs in the country and that's what I wanted. Six years after arriving in New York City, I was selected as one of their 18 residents. Today, I am the Chief of Neurosurgery at Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore. Santana here had always been into fitness and dancing. It may have taken her awhile to get her groove back, but when she did it was amazing to behold."
Santana now took over speaking. "Growing up in Lima, Ohio is not easy, especially if you're gay … which I so wouldn't admit before Rachel came along. Now in my senior year, I wasn't just a lesbian, but a paraplegic lesbian. What kind of a life is that? Well, in Lima, not much of one. Or so, I thought. I always had fabulous grades. In fact, Rachel and I were always battling with our friend Quinn for valedictorian. I should have figured a lot sooner that I was something other than what I always pictured myself as: a good fuck and a smokin' hot bitch. My best friend went to Yale and my girlfriend made into Columbia. I obviously had the brains to go this bod … it just took me a while to reacquaint myself with the new me. I followed Rae to New York and took some courses at the Borough of Manhattan Community College. The next year, I followed in my girlfriend's footsteps and applied to Columbia myself. I made through in just three years and then went on to grad school. In the meantime, I married Rae, got pregnant with Jorge, and started my own therapy practice. I specialize in helping those like myself find their self-worth again and realize that they still fit in the picture." The picture which had earlier showed a disjointed family had now changed on the display. Now San was seated in her chair next to Rae, surrounded by their children. All smiles.
By now, the entire room was captivated by their story. The patients themselves didn't look so dark and gloomy. They may not be ready to take on the world, but at least they now had proof of life after disability.