Viral Coma E2

episode 2 – new realizations

The consequences of dangerous activities divide participants who must evaluate ambitions.

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Fading Out

Wayne doesn’t recall the details but wakes up confined within a foggy glass horizontal elevator. Whenever he tries to sleep, there’s an annoying tap on the large transparent portal.

Throughout the night, the sound of ringing bells and typing fingers adds to his discomfort. Most disturbing is the dizzying effect of moving quickly through different floors as if on display, with no way to exit.

In his hallucinations, he sees himself engaging in extreme sports like motocross racing and skydiving. Each of these dreams ends with him falling into a deep pit and gaining thousands of likes from followers. He hears his parents calling his name, but he’s unable to answer.

Sleep deprivation, despite being immobile, leads to mood swings. Wild thoughts about enduring a futile life contrast with deep states of depression.

Each day, the absence of his parents’ faces through the glass leads to disappointment. The days-long torment extends to weeks before the elevator doors finally open to bright sunlight.

The annoying beeps take on a new dimension with him lying on a bed hooked up to monitors. A nurse responds to the chimes by running to page the doctor.

With more excitement than virtual followers, the physician says, “Wayne, my name is Dr. Johnson. I’m an orthopedic surgeon. Can you hear me?”

“Yes, of course,” he responds with a parched voice before the nurse gives him a sip of water.

“Good. Do me a favor,” lifting the covering from his feet, “wiggle your toes if you can.”

With the doctor and nurses watching, the simple request perplexes Wayne. After all, he’s known for much more thrill-seeking activity. But his immobility receives no “likes” from him or anyone in the room.

“That’s all right,” Dr. Johnson says. “Give it more time.”

Losing Mobility

The medical evaluation opens a floodgate of questions. Wayne wants to know what happened to him, how long he’s been in the hospital, and when he’ll be able to move his feet. After learning of his paralyzing bungee jump three weeks prior, the medical staff leaves him alone to process his grief.

The nurse says, “I’ll contact your parents. They’ll be happy you’re awake.”

Alone in the room, Wayne grapples with disbelief and denial over his paralysis. With streams of tears running down his face, over and over again, he unsuccessfully struggles to move his lower limbs.

When Mr. and Mrs. Dawson arrive, the mother embraces him while the father grasps Wayne’s hand, asking, “How are you, Son?”

“Apparently, not too well. What’s going on? The doctor said I can’t walk.”

“We had to make some tough decisions while you were in a coma after your fall. The damage to your legs was so severe, the doctors wanted to amputate. We insisted they wait until you regain consciousness and make the decision yourself.”

“I don’t understand. I can see my legs. Can’t I get some physical therapy?”

“Wayne, the bungee cord was too long. The impact from such a great height shattered all the bones below your waist. You’re only able to hold this conversation with very strong pain relievers.”

The devastating news silences Wayne as he tries to process his new circumstances with flashbacks of his active lifestyle. That’s when his mother provides the pros and cons of options before him.

“It’s a tough choice. Dr. Johnson presented the advantages if you want to hear them now.”

With a somber expression, nestled in her arms, Wayne responds, “Advantages to what? Being disabled?”

“You can choose whether you want to keep the dysfunctional limbs with wheelchair mobility. The double amputation and prosthetic option will provide an opportunity for an active lifestyle after physical therapy.”

In denial of the options, Wayne seeks clarity. “Are you saying my bones are like bowls of cereal? I’m wearing leg casts.”

“Your legs have many wires and rods for stability that won’t restore the nerve damage.”

Wayne now understands his depression during the coma and asks for time alone. A nurse frequently checks in on him for comfort and support.

He asks, “Could a man without legs ever appeal to you?”

She bends her neck to ascertain whether the minor is flirting or gathering useful information. Assuming the latter, she offers a poignant response, “Don’t let this accident discourage you. Legs are a means of mobility, not a defining characteristic of one’s value.”

Wayne absorbs the weight of her words. Arduous physical therapy will accompany either decision he makes, but which will provide the best long-term outcome?

Continued…

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