Iget her onto my shoulder, being extra careful with her legs and ankles, sinceIknow one of them is likely broken.Ican’t turn around, soIhave to back my way out of the small space.Oncewe are free of the buildings,Ihurry to the car as quickly asIcan without bouncing her and causing her more pain.
Thenearest hospital is close, and within five minutes,I’vepulled into the parking lot and am carrying her, soaking wet, into an area that looks like their emergency room.Theintake nurse doesn’t speakEnglishor any of the other languagesIspeak, soIhave to mime what happened.
Theyroll a bed out to us, andIlayZoegently on it, slip the comms unit out of her ear, and place a gentle kiss on her forehead.Iwhisper, “You’llbe okay.Please, be okay.”Iknow she’s unconscious, butI’mhoping she still takes it in.Ican’t lose her.
Ipace the waiting room.UpdatePackstonandKellaasmuch asIcan.Leavea trail of water everywhereIwalk.Talkto both my director and hers.Pacesome more.
Finally, a doctor comes out.Hedoesn’t speakEnglish, butIuse my translation app and it picks up enough to tell me that she has some bruised ribs, one cracked.I’mguessing it was from hitting the joint in the pipe on the way down that also pulled off her necklace.Andshe has a broken fibula that will need surgery.Therearen’t any signs of internal bleeding.
Thewaiting is agonizing.I’vebeen around injuries before.I’vebeen injured.Iknow from what the doctor said thatZoe’sinjury isn’t life-threatening, butIwon’t be convinced that there isn’t anything that they missed untilIcan hear her voice and see for myself that she is okay.
Idon’t even realize thatI’mshivering from being in soaking-wet clothes until someone brings me a blanket.WhenIwarm up a bit,Ithink to pull out my phone and bring up the contact information thatEvanO’Brien, the aide to theIrishAmbassadorto theUnitedStates, gave me soIcould contact him for a game of hurling.Ishoot him a text, explain thatIneed to ask theAmbassadorfor help, and see if he’ll relay the message.
Bythe time a nurse comes back, my shirt is dry and my pants are only damp by the pockets and waist band.Myshoes and socks have a long way to go.But, gloriously, the nurse, a dark-haired woman in her thirties namedNehir, is one of the only people in this hospital who speaks a bit ofEnglish, and she tells me thatIcan seeZoe.
Sheleads me to a room whereZoeis unconscious on a rolling bed.AnIVbag hangs from a pole besideher, and a lot of bandaging wraps around her right leg.Seeingher like this causes a stabbing pain in my chest.Anothernurse is atZoe’sside, marking something in her chart. “She’sasleep, from…” the nurse pauses, can’t seem to remember how to say the words to the next part, so she mimes givingZoea shot.
Inod to let her knowIunderstand. “Howlong will she be asleep?”
Thenurse shrugs. “It’sdifferent for everyone.”
Ipull the chair up close toZoe’sbed and take a seat.Everythinglooks fine with her hand, soIhold it in mine and wait as both nurses do their thing, going in and out of the room.Ittakes longer thanIguessed it would forZoeto come out of anesthesia— the room is already lightening from the rising sun— but both nurses are present when her eyes finally flutter open.Ilet out a huge breath of relief, and say, “I’venever been happier to see someone open their eyes.”
ButthenZoegrabs the first nurse’s wrist and says, “Somethingis wrong.”Myrelief flees as quickly as it came.
Nehirhurries toZoe’sother side and runs her hand downZoe’shair, over and over, and says, “Shh.It’sokay.”
ButthenZoegrabs her wrist, too, and repeats, “Somethingis wrong.”
“Thisis normal,”Nehirsays. “Your, um… body.Itknows something happen.Yourbrain was…”Shecan’t seem to come up with theEnglishword to use, so she puts her fist at her head, miming being knocked out, then puts a hand out flat and lays her head on it, closing her eyes. “Itwasn’t there, so it doesn’t know something happen.Ittells you something is wrong.Butyou’re good.”ShegivesZoetwo thumbs up, which is kind of awkward with her right thumb since her wrist is still being held byZoe.
Zoedoesn’t look very comforted, though, soImove to where she can better see me and wave.Hereyes fly to the movement, land on my face, and she smiles.It’sbeautiful.She’sinjured and she just went through surgery, but that smile is everything.AndIlove that it was my presence that made it appear.
Shelooks relieved and a bit more relaxed, too… except for the death grip she’s got on both nurses’ wrists.Thescene looks like a three-person arm wrestling match where everyone is stuck in a stalemate.Maybethe wrist grabbing is a common enough reaction, because neither nurse seems fazed by it, and they both continue to do their work of checkingZoeout with their one free hand.
Aboutthe time the nurses finish up,Zoedecides she can relinquish their wrists.Thefirst nurse leaves immediately. “Youneed me,”Nehirsays as she’s showing me a control panel on the bed, but then she can’t seem to remember how to say the words she means to say, so she says, “Bzzzzzz, ding, ding!Andthere’s water.”Ilook to where she gestured and see two cups of water with lids and straws on a small rolling table.
“WhereamI?”Zoeasks, her voice groggy and scratchy.
Igrab a water cup and bend the straw, holding it so she can take a drink asIsay, “Afive-star hotel, where everyone will wait on you and bring you anythingyou need.”
“Lookslike a hospital.”
“Well, some people call it that.Howdo you feel?”
“Heavy.AmIrestrained?”
“No.Areyou in pain?”Iknow she’s on pain medication and was very recently under general anesthesia, butIstill need to know that she’s okay. “Canyou feel anything?You’vegot bruised ribs, and one’s broken, and you just had surgery on your lower right leg.Doesanywhere else hurt?”
Sheshakes her head, then looks at the water again, soIgive her another drink.Thenshe looks at me very intently, her eyes roving around my face, before she says, “You’reso pretty.”
Itry to hold back a smile. “AmI?”
“Uh-huh.Ilike your face.It’sso… face-shaped.Theperfect face.”Sheholds out the word “perfect,” but not like she meant to— more like it was just a difficult word to say.Allher words are groggy and not formed well, andIknow she’s just feeling the effects of the anesthesia, butI’mstill really digging the compliment.
“Ilike the rest of you, too.”
“Allof the rest of me?”
