Chapter 26

Six months after the accident (approximately two months later). Lizzie has a follow-up appointment with Dr. Robertson. She is in her room, typing on her on-line journal….

Well, today's the day. I've got my follow-up appointment with Dr. Robertson. I hope it's good news. She sighs I think I'm getting better. I can see light and dark, but I haven't told mom and dad. I don't wanna get their hopes up. They've gone through so much; ya know, with me, Matt, and the house. Good grief! Can anything else happen? Don't answer that! Anyway, I think seeing light and dark is good; I used to couldn't see anything. Maybe that means I'm getting better. God, I hope so! I wanna see so badly….

Jo: Yelling from the bottom of the stairs. Lizzie! Hurry up!

Lizzie: I'm coming! She continues typing….

Well, I guess I gotta go. Mom's yelling at me. Wish me luck!

She saves her entry and closes out the program. She grabs her cane and heads downstairs. I'm ready.

Jo: Get your coat. It's cold out.

Lizzie: Sighs. Mom, I'm not a child.

Jo: I know you're not a child.

Lizzie: Let's get this over with.

They get in the car and head to the doctor's office.

On the way to the office…..

Lizzie is leaning against the window, as if she is staring at the scenery outside. Jo notices her daughter is quiet.

Jo: What's going on, honey?

Lizzie: Oh, nothing. She sighs.

Jo: Is something bothering you?

Lizzie: No.

Jo: You know you can tell me.

Lizzie: I know. She sighs again. Mom, just leave me alone right now, okay?

Jo: Okay.

Lizzie continues to stare out the window, at a world she can not see. God, please let me see again.

The car pulls into the office parking lot. Jo and Lizzie walk into the office. Lizzie approaches the window.

Office assistant: May I help you?

Lizzie: I'm Lizzie McGuire. I'm here for my 9 o'clock appointment with Dr. Robertson.

Office assistant: Okay. He'll be with you shortly. Just sign the register here.

Lizzie: Uh, right.

Jo discreetly signs her daughter in and they take a seat. A few minutes later, Lizzie is called in. Almost as soon as the pair settle into the exam room, Dr. Robertson comes in.

Dr. Robertson: Hi Lizzie, Mrs. McGuire. He shakes their hands. How are you?

Lizzie: Ummm, fine, I guess.

Dr. Robertson: How's school going?

Lizzie: Fine, I guess.

Dr. Robertson: Classes going okay?

Lizzie: Yeah.

Dr. Robertson: Your VI instructor and O & M instructors working out?

Lizzie: Yeah.

Dr. Robertson: Good. I've got the results of your latest MRI. He puts the films on the light board.

Lizzie: Cutting him off. Let's cut to the chase. Will I see again?

Dr. Robertson: The swelling's gone down. Everything looks normal.

Lizzie: Then, why can't I see?

Dr. Robertson: To be honest, I really don't know.

Lizzie: Well, you said everything looks normal. Then, shouldn't I be able to see?

Jo: Warns her daughter. Lizzie.

Lizzie: No, mom. I wanna know. Will I ever see again?

Dr. Robertson: I wish I could say for sure, but there's so much about the brain that we don't know yet.

Lizzie: Becoming desperate. But… but I can see light and shadow. I couldn't before. Doesn't that mean I'm getting better?

Dr. Robertson: I wish I could give you a definite answer yes or no. Yes, that is an improvement, and yes, it could continue to improve, but there's also a chance that it won't.

Lizzie: I…I…I can't! She begins crying.

Dr. Robertson: I'm sorry. I wish I had better news to tell you. I would like to schedule another MRI in six months. We may know more then.

Lizzie: That's what you said last time.

Jo: Lizzie! That's enough.

Lizzie: Hangs her head down. Okay. She tries to brush away the tears, but they continue to roll down her cheeks.

Dr. Robertson: I'm sorry I can't give you better news. Lizzie nods. I will see you again in six months. He shakes their hands. Goodbye.

Jo and Lizzie leave the office and get into the car.

Jo: Would you like some lunch? Lizzie doesn't respond. Lizzie?

Lizzie: I heard you.

Jo: Well? Are you hungry?

Lizzie: I guess so.

Jo: How about some pizza?

Lizzie: I guess so. She shrugs her shoulders. I don't care.

Jo: Looks at her daughter. Lizzie, talk to me, please.

Lizzie: Inhales sharply. You want me to talk! Well, fine! Okay, I'll talk. I'm angry! I'm angry as hell! I wanna see so badly, I can taste it.

Jo: I know…..

Lizzie: Cuts her off. No you don't! You can see. You weren't thrown up in the air because you were struck by a car. You weren't in a coma for weeks, just to wake up not being able to see. You weren't the one who had to relearn everything. You weren't the one who nearly burned your house down either. So, don't tell me you know.

Jo: Becoming frustrated. No, I wasn't, but I'm the one who got the phone call that told me my daughter had just been in a horrible accident. I'm the one who sat vigil by her daughter's side while she was in that coma. I'm the one who saw her daughter pronounced dead. I'm the one who saw her daughter wail in agony because she woke up to a dark room. I'm the one who watched her daughter struggle to relearn how to fend for herself. I'm the one who cried herself to sleep nearly every night because she didn't know how to help her daughter. Tears begin to stream down her face. I know I'm not the one who is blind, but do you know how much it hurts to see her daughter in pain and not be able to do a damned thing about it?

Lizzie: I'm sorry. Begins to feel guilty.

Jo: I don't want you to feel guilty, honey. I just want you to know that I get it. I know you're disappointed and angry. I know you want to see. I want you to see, but we've got to be prepared for the possibility it might not happen. Lizzie bursts into tears. Do you want a hug.

Lizzie: Nods. Uh huh. She buries her head in her mother's chest.

Jo: Holds her daughter until the tears cease to flow. Why don't we just go home? We can order pizza and talk.

Lizzie: Okay.

Lizzie spends most of the evening in her room. Matt is over at Lanny's house. Jo is sleeping on the couch when Sam gets home from work. He approaches the couch and gently places a kiss on his wife's cheek. She opens her eyes.

Jo: Sam.

Sam: I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you.

Jo: No, it's okay. She sits up and Sam sits beside her.

Sam: How did Lizzie's appointment go?

Jo: She inhales. The swelling in her brain is completely gone.

Sam: That's good. Does this mean she'll be able to see soon?

Jo: The doctor's not sure.

Sam: So, there's a possibility that she'll never see. Jo nods. How's Lizzie?

Jo: She's upset, of course. Tears begin streaming down her face. She said she could see light and dark and some shadows.

Sam: Does that mean she's improving?

Jo: It's hard to tell. The doctor said she could regain some of her sight, all of her sight, or this might be as good as it gets.

Sam: Poor kid. He sighs. She's had such a hard six months. I was hoping she'd get good news. She's had so much bad news in such a short time. How are you?

Jo: I don't know. I wanted it to be good news for her so badly. She pauses. I need to get dinner started.

Sam: Okay, I'll go up and see her. He goes upstairs and knocks on Lizzie's door. He can hear her crying softly.

Sam: Lizzie, can I come in?

Lizzie: Blows her nose and wipes the tears away. Come in. She sits up on the bed.

Sam: Hey sweetheart. He sits on the bed beside her.

Lizzie: Hey daddy.

Sam: Mom told me what the doctor said. I'm so sorry. Lizzie nods. I know you're disappointed.

Lizzie: Yeah. I was hoping that I was getting better. I guess I'm not.

Sam: We don't know that for sure.

Lizzie: That's what mom said. It's just so frustrating. I can see light and shadow now. I thought I was getting better. After all, the MRI shows my brain isn't swollen anymore.

Sam: I'm so sorry, kiddo.

Jo yells from the bottom of the stairs: Dinner's ready!

Sam and Lizzie smile.

Sam: I guess we'd better go down for dinner.

Lizzie: Yeah. She reaches for another tissue.

Sam: I love you, and I'm here no matter what.

Lizzie: I love you too, daddy.

They head down the stairs for dinner.