CHAPTER 21

Gillian bit her lip in an attempt not to scream. This hurt. She had two nurses holding each arm as she attempted to finally rise from her bed, the blood rushing directly to her feet as she did so. She tried to take a few quick breaths to dispel the dizziness that instantly hit her.

"Gillian, try and stand. We're not going to let you fall." Gillian glared at the nurse. How was she supposed to do this? Her legs felt like jelly.

Sweating profusely from the effort, she shoved her stocking covered feet onto the floor, thrusting upward with her thin legs. She let out a cry of triumph as her legs straightened and held her upright. Gillian marveled again at what she had previously taken for granted. The simple act of standing up and walking was such a miracle.

"Okay Dr. Foster, now see if you can take a step or two."

Biting down on her bottom lip, Gillian commanded her right leg to move. Nothing. She took a deep breath and tried again. This time, she was able to barely shuffle her foot along the floor before she felt herself begin to collapse. The nurses held her up as she began to fall and she let out an exasperated cry. Why was this so hard?

"We've got you Gillian. Just stop for a second and try again."

Gillian was breathing hard. She was so glad that she had sent Cal away. As much as she loved having him here with her, she didn't want him to see her in this state. She started to feel angry. Angry that someone would do this to her, that her independence and health could be robbed from her so easily, and that she hadn't rebounded as quickly as patients do on TV. She felt her abdominal wounds start to burn and fresh tears started to cascade down her sweaty cheeks. She silently wondered if she could ever go back to her pre-accident self.

The nurse at her right must have sensed what she was feeling. "Gillian, use that anger and frustration to move your body. Don't let yourself stop!"

Gillian growled as she focused on the chair 5 feet from her. If she could just make it to that chair, she would consider this first battle won, and she'd be one step closer to going home.

It had taken 30 minutes for Gillian to traverse the room. She had made it all the way to the chair, the bathroom, and then back to the chair, sweating and swearing as she did so. Having accomplished this Herculean task, Gillian's catheter was removed, much to her delight.

Now, the room emptied at her request, she sat quietly in the vinyl chair in the corner. She was at the mercy of the hospital staff, knowing that she would never make it back to her bed without some help. Gillian reached down and rubbed her aching leg muscles. She was ordinarily a fit and trim person, running 5 to 6 miles a day. After just a week and a half, her muscles were weak, her body having shed at least 10 pounds.

She flung her head back against the chair, closing her eyes. She could feel it coming. The release that she so desperately needed was close, ready to erupt from her. The unshed tears were waiting for the dam to break. The sight of her body and the effort it took to do the most basic of tasks, had started to crack the barriers that she had put up. Gillian shook her head. Not now. Not yet.

Letting out a sob, Gillian felt herself let go. Her body shook with grief as she brought her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She didn't try to hold back now, the cries and sobs coming out of her unabated as painful memories darted in and out of her mind.

She lost track of time and her surroundings. Nurses popped their heads in, giving her worried and sympathetic looks, but mercifully, sensed her need to be alone. She didn't stop her weeping until she felt a soft hand on her knee, a kind, feminine voice whispering to her. Jerking her head up, she peered at the woman in front of her through swollen eyes. Wallowski.

"Foster, you okay?"

Wiping her nose, Gillian tried to smile. "I'm okay, really….I am."

Wallowki smiled. "You don't look okay."

Sharon Wallowski was no facial expert but even she could see the shame and embarrassment that washed over Gillian's face and a part of her regretted her decision to check in on Gillian today. "Foster, do you want me to get you anything?"

Gillian snapped. "Yeah, give me the last 9 days back. Give me my body back. Take these horrible memories and nightmares away." Gillian started to shake, her stomach threatening to expel its' first real meal.

"Foster, you know as well as I do that this is all part of the healing process. Crying is good right?"

Gillian's eyes bulged as she motioned for Wallowski to grab the kidney shaped bowl on the table next to the bed. Wallowski shoved it under Gillian's mouth just as she vomited. Wallowski winced at the painful convulsions that jolted Gillian's body as she expelled her meager meal.

Retching turned into sobbing as Gillian put her hand to her mouth and dropped her head. This was just too much.

Wallowski stood and removed the bowl, placing her hand on Gillian's head. Though the two had never been friends, she felt a wave of empathy wash over her. No woman should have to go through this.

"Foster, what can I do to help you feel better?"

Gillian shuddered. "I need a shower."

Wallowski turned and looked towards the door, motioning for a nurse to come in. "Okay, let's get you that shower."