Grieving Monologues

Empowerment of the Grieving

I was being rushed into the hospital. I will never sleep the same again. I can still hear the my brother's screams for help. The face my mom had on when she saw me will stick with me forever. My own sobs of pain. I will never be the same again.
I remember it like it was yesterday. I had just left for school, a smile on my face, my backpack on my back. My brother and I piled in the car, him in the back and me in the driver's seat. I knew something was going to happen. I could feel it in the air. We weren’t five miles from the house when the car hit us. They hit us hard. I knew before they hit us that it was going to be bad.
I could see out of the corner of my eye that my brother was out of the car. He was conscious and getting up. I, on the other hand, couldn't stop staring at my left leg. It had immediately started to swell- I knew it wasn't good. My brother crouched down to ask me if I was okay: I told him I
was okay, but that he was going to have to call 911. He said he already had and that they were on there way. Before I could even get my next sentence out, he said that he had called mom as well. As he was waving down people to help us, I was trying not to cry. I couldn’t feel my leg and I was hoping that it was just the adrenaline. The ambulance finally got there after what felt like hours. Then, in that moment I knew my leg was bad because it was now purple.
They had me hooked up to tubes before I was even on the stretcher. As we pulled up to the hospital, my mom was waiting for us in the ambulance bay. They unloaded me and her face turned ghost white. She let no more than two tears fall before she realized that I was watching her. She ran over to me and told me that everything was going to be okay. I nodded and started to cry again. I could feel my leg- at least I had that going for me. The doctor came in and told me that he was giving some sort of something that would sedate me. I nodded and that was the last thing I remember until after my first surgery. I woke up from the surgery scared and alone. My mom and brother came in both wiping tears from their eyes. The doctor asked me how I was feeling; I answered truthfully- like I was hit by a car that ran a red. He laughed and then fixed a tube that was knicked. He looked at my chart and smiled. In that exact moment I knew he wasn’t the nice, friendly doctor I thought he was. That smirk told me that something was wrong.
I couldn’t sleep that night so I listened into the hallway and what I heard was something that I wish I never had.
“She's going to suffer because of this,” my doctor said.
“Why?” the figure asked.
“The girl in the other car was my daughter.”
“The accident wasn’t that girls fault though.”
“I know but the impact of her car killed my daughter, and she’s going to suffer because of it,” My doctor said tearing up.
“Be careful, you don’t know what you're getting into,” the figure said disappearing into the light.
Though the figure had left my doctor said one more thing to himself’ “She’s going to suffer like I had to.”
That night I thought a lot about one thing: power. Why do people want it? What does it get you? How do you get it? What comes with power? The answers to my questions were the ugly truth, not on purpose but it was just the reality. There was no king or queen in Easton, Pennsylvania. Power was different nowadays. Power now meant the capability to go over someones head, to take advantage, to quite frankly do what’s in the best interest of you. I had hurt him and now he was going to hurt me. He wanted power over me to show me who badly I had hurt him. I hadn't meant to and it wasn't even my fault, but still he was grieving. He thought that if he hurt me it would make his pain go away. I knew that wasn’t true but he didn’t. What was I going to do though? Everyone thought that he was the sweetest man ever. my doctor came in the next morning, vials in hand and a smile from ear to ear on his face. My mom greeted him and he got started. Taking blood and changing my IV bag. Today he did something different; he marked up my leg with marker. He told us that my next surgery as going to be a breeze but it wasn't going to be the last. That was my first mistake- letting myself believe it would be a breeze.
He told my mom to go see the nurse and fill out the rest of the paperwork. That left us in the room. He got real close to my ear and told me the last thing I wanted to hear. It chilled me to the bone. He said that the other girl in the car was his daughter (not new knowledge to me but he thought it was.) His breath smelled like bourbon but I wasn’t going to say anything. He told me to keep my mouth shut or he would make this even more painful. My second mistake- keeping my mouth shut. I started to cry, I wanted to tell him that I was sorry but it was no use. My brain started to wonder, what was he going to do to me? I couldn’t bare to think about it but I knew one thing- he wanted to cause me pain.
They were taking me to the OR when my leg felt like it was getting run over. They told me to hold it out until we got to the operating room. I did but not quietly. I took a deep breath and told myself that everything was going to be okay. My doctor came in bright eyed and ready to work. He told all nonessential staff to get out and now it was just him, me, and a nurse. He tinkered around with the anesthesia making it so that I couldn’t feel it but I could see it. He started to work, I could smell my burning flesh. He talked to me as he worked saying how his daughter suffered worse than me and now I was going to suffer. He also said that I was lucky this is all that was being done to me. He closed me up and took me back to my room. I was muted out of fear, I didn’t speak for weeks after my accident. The first thing I saw was my mom crying. I looked down at my leg and started banging my head against the wall. It wasn’t a dream he really did torture me. The nurses stopped me and told me everything was going to be okay. They told me that all the rods and screws in my leg were setting it so that the doctors could go back in and give you your life back. I nodded my head and went to bed.
I was up bright and early the next morning. my doctor was explaining my day to my crying mom. He seemed so calm and nice with her- everyone for that matter. He told me that I had infection in my leg and they had to go back in and fix it. My mom agreed before I could even nod. They rushed me up before they even looked at my leg, mistake 3- letting him take me up. he once again told everyone to get out- and made it so I could see but not feel. He opened up my leg and started removing the so called “infection”. He was inside my leg for six hours before he told me the most horrifying thing I have ever heard. Amputation is our only option.
I guess all the bourbon was kicking in because before he could make the cut he fell over. That left me strapped to a table, helpless, unable to speak out of fear. He woke up 20 or so minutes later- without anyone there. Shaking it off, he got up and well, cut off my leg. He whispered that his loss was my fault and this was how he was going to show me the pain he was caused. I woke up and there was no more physical pain; a new kind of pain kicked in- emotional. Not four days ago I was at home curled up on the couch watching movies looking outside and watching the rain (with two legs). But now he had made me a cripple. I wanted to take a gun to his head but that wouldn’t make a difference. He was grieving and he was in denial and the way he was dealing with it was overpowering me and making me feel even worse than I already did. He wanted power, that was it. He wanted to feel like he had made things right with his daughter. Deep down I understood that feeling of wanting power. He wanted more than anything to cause me pain like I caused him. My doctor came in and I turned over. I didn’t want him to be my doctor anymore and I had control over that. I screamed that I never wanted to see him again he left and a women came in. I know he felt empowered there and that's the only reason he left. I didn’t sleep for days after that. I thought back to the night I listened to the doctors conversation and after that when I thought about power. He wanted to squash me like a bug, make me feel the emotional stabs he felt; he had accomplished that with flying colors. What now, am I ever going to walk again, was I ever going to see him again? These questions were all flying through my head but I really only cared about one.
Was I ever going to see him again? I hope not, he is responsible for this. It was his daughter who hit me. It was his need for empowerment that left me with one leg. But that wasn’t even the worst part. One day after my amputation I wandered into the hallway and there was every doctor in the hospital giving him highfives and saying things like “You did everything you could” and “you probably saved her life.” I wheeled back into my room had a nurse help me into bed and started crying. The tears were coming back I wanted to crawl into a hole but I couldn’t you need to legs two crawl. I left the hospital as soon as I could but I will never forget his words “This is your fault, you're the reason I don't have a daughter any more and now you're going to suffer.”
Two years later here I am walking.
Here I am with a normal life. There are still obstacles but I have overcome a lot of them. After a two years of PT I can walk. I can have a normal life. His words will always chill me but I am starting to move on. He wanted so bad to feel like he had done something to level the playing field. He won. He got what he wanted- to feel like he had power over me and what happened. I still can’t talk about it and I knew I will be traumatized forever but it's better. I still have trouble getting into a car but at least I can get in a car. I could have died in that accident like his daughter did but I didn’t. That's why I think I have never told anyone- because I got to live. He has to wake up every morning as a parent with no kid. It’s hard for me to realize how lucky I know deep down I am. I will still always be scared of him, doctors, and anything medical really. It’s better now though. This accident was a part of my past and I will carry it with me forever, but I am ready to get going on my
future.