Three Weeks Until Forever

There is an uneasy silence that takes place on country roads at night after the smashing of glass and screeching of tires.

The metronome of the blinker still rings between shallow breaths. A soft hum from the radio as it skips through tunes in a designated lineup, as if nothing had happened. The DJ goes about their night the same way they always do, cracking jokes to the handful of people still tuned into the broadcast.

One of those people was me as I sat, stranded and bloodied. Phone out of reach. Vision doubled and body aching. I wasn't sure if I was going to make it. I was silently begging for anyone to see me, for anyone to help.

I don't know how much time passed before the world went dark, but it did. I woke up in the back of an ambulance. My eyes shot open to see a mustached man and a woman who reminded me of my mother standing over me, working frantically. Their faces were coming in and out of focus as the background blurred, sterile but bright.

I tried to speak, but words wouldn't escape me—I realized later that a tube was jammed down my throat, preventing it. I wanted to beg them to help me. My wedding was in three weeks. I needed to make it down the aisle. The two EMTs never caught my eye as my glance bounced between them. They were too busy looking at screens and playing with wires connected to my body, some inserted, some stuck on the skin.

While they were likely speeding around the vehicle, everything felt like it was happening in slow motion. Their movements were obscure and followed by tracers. They spoke to each other in gibberish. I did my best to trace their features with my gaze, but the world kept drifting further and further away until it became dark again.

The darkness lasted for what felt like a few seconds, but when my eyes opened again in a hospital room, the face of the nurse taking care of my IV lit up with excitement.

"You're okay, Honey," She spoke softly. "Let me grab a doctor. You won't be able to speak for the time being. You are intubated to help you breathe. Once we get a better handle on your condition, we will be able to remove it. I can grab you a pen and paper if you'd like to try to write things down."

I slowly nodded my head at the offer, and she gave me a warm smile that didn't quite meet the eyes.

Everything that followed was a whirlwind. There were all kinds of tests done to check my brain and motor abilities. It was explained to me that it was a miracle I was conscious so quickly after my emergency surgery and that I didn't seem to have any cognitive issues following the traumatic brain injury that took place.

My family had just left when I woke up, but I heard they were simultaneously thrilled I was awake and irritated by the hospital's visitation policy, as they'd have to wait until morning to see me.

When I finally saw them, my eyes welled with tears. The first real emotion I allowed myself to feel since the shock of the accident.

My fiancé didn't let go of my hand each time he came to visit. He spoke soft love letters into my ear, bedside. When I was finally extubated, I kept apologizing profusely. He laughed softly each time, asking me, "For what?"

I didn't quite know what I was apologizing for. It wasn't my fault. Everyone told me the accident wasn't my fault. But I just felt so horrible that I almost ruined our life together. We were supposed to get married in three weeks. So much money was spent. And it was likely I wouldn't be well enough to walk down the aisle.

I wasn't well enough to walk down the aisle in our planned event, but we made something happen anyway. The venue and vendors for the wedding were incredibly understanding, issuing full refunds, allowing us to regroup and pull something just as amazing together.

I was still in the hospital on the day of the wedding, and there was no way I was getting my original dress around all the machinery hooked up to my body, so we improvised.

My sister did my makeup for me, and my mother curled my hair. They assured me I was the most beautiful girl in the world, and I believed them for the time being. Nothing could ruin this for me.

The flowers that were gifted to us by concerned family, friends, and community members lined the hallway of the floor I stayed on. The doctors and nurses stood side-by-side as witnesses, tears in their eyes as they witnessed this impromptu event they helped plan.

My beautiful fiancé stood at the end of the hallway, wearing his tuxedo, and looked the most handsome I'd ever seen him. I was too happy to be self-conscious of my broken and bruised body, draped in a dress two sizes too big to accommodate my injuries and avoid agitating any wounds still healing. I always wanted this to be the best day of my life, and it was.

A few weeks later, I was finally discharged from the hospital and it felt like I was finally waking up for real.

Our lives went back to normal for the most part. There were issues that lingered from the accident. I had nightmares, and I dealt with panic attacks, and sometimes it was hard to get me out of the house because I didn't want to drive or be driven. Sometimes I didn't even want to walk because as cars passed, I feared they would veer into me at any moment.

But with time, things got better. We bought our first home and got out of the cycle of renting. We celebrated anniversaries. We had children, two of them, a boy and a girl. My life was everything I ever wanted it to be and more.

Then my eyes opened again in a hospital room, and the face of the nurse taking care of my IV lit up with fear.

"I'll be right back," The nurse said with an awkward smile that didn't quite meet the eyes.

I couldn't speak. Something lodged in my throat. I didn't understand what was happening. Tears started pouring down the sides of my face. The nurse ran out of the room, and I was surrounded by a team of medical specialists a short time later.

They poked and prodded and tested, and I was still in the dark as to what was going on.

My mother and sister came to visit the following day. Forced smiles were plastered on their faces, and their eyes were swollen and bloodshot. My mom stroked my hair, and my sister held my hand, stroking the back of it with her thumb. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't.

Where was my husband? Why wasn't anyone telling me anything? What was happening?

Later that day, after verifying that it was safe to extubate me, the tube finally came out of my throat. I still could hardly talk. I certainly couldn't scream. I frantically looked around the room, begging for a glimpse of the man that I loved and the father of my children.

The words came out choppy, broken between forced breaths.

"Where... is... my... husband?" I asked.

My mother inhaled sharply and started sobbing. She shook her head uncontrollably and put her hand up, looking at my sister before walking out of the room.

"I can't do this," she screamed as she exited.

My heart started beating fast, fast enough to set off alarm bells on the machines attached to me. I glanced over to them before looking back to my sister. Her eyes were glossed over, tears staining her cheeks, mascara dripping under her eyes.

She swallowed, started to talk, and then looked down.

I tried again.

"Where... is..."

"Your fiancé died in the accident. You've been unconscious for three weeks. I'm sorry." She blurted.

She kept hold of my hand, but she looked away from me. I did my best to rip my hand away and began thrashing as much as I could. I tried to scream, but it came out muffled and messed up. I could hardly move, but I started reaching for the wires attached to me, too weak to detach them from my body.

The medical team came in quickly after that.

"We're going to sedate her. Don't worry. She shouldn't fall back into a coma, but she needs time to rest. We can continue processing these events as she continues to heal." The doctor spoke to my sister as if I wasn't there.

My sister merely nodded her head and tried to reach for my hand again. I pulled it away. She looked at me with tears in her eyes and mouthed the words "I love you."

That was the last thing I saw before the world went dark again, and I prayed that it would stay that way this time. I only wanted to live in the life I knew in my mind.