I just stare at her, hearing Lucy scream.
Her eyes grow concerned. “Daisy, can you speak?”
Can I speak? I open my mouth and all that comes out is a hoarse croak. Cora gives me a little more water, but it hurts to swallow.
“You had a collapsed lung, and we had to put you on a ventilator to help you breathe,” Cora says. “We took the tube out today, so your throat is bound to be sore from the swelling. I want you to take another sip and try to say my name. It’s Cora.”
I do as she asks and then lean back, dragging in a shallow breathe because it hurts to breathe. “C…C…C..or…a.”
“Very good,” she croons, but it doesn’t sound good to me.
“It might take a few hours to a few days for your voice to fully come back. Every person is different. Now, these are your surgeons. This is Dr. Briney, Dr. Sturgis, and Dr. Williams.”
The oldest one, Dr. Briney, smiles kindly. “You gave us quite a scare, Miss Canton. We didn’t know if you were going to make it there for a while.”
My mind flashes to the basement. To being hit and stomped so many times I lost count. I passed out and then I woke up here.
I try to move my hand again and pain radiated all the way up to my shoulder.
“Best not to do that for a bit,” Dr. Williams, the youngest of the three doctors says. “I’ve done two surgeries to repair your left hand, but you have broken bones in both of your arms and your left femur is broken. You need to try and stay still for the next few days as they start to heal.”
I remember the snap when he stomped on my right arm. Remember the pain.
Dr. Sturgis comes forward. “I’m your neurosurgeon. You had major brain trauma. We had to repair several bleeds andalleviate the swelling twice. You’ve also got a severe concussion, but we need to do some preliminary evaluations. I’m going to run you through a few cognitive tests. Okay?”
Is that why I can’t hear well or speak well? Will I ever be able to speak right?
“Easy,” he says. “Just stay calm. I need you to follow my finger with your eyes. Don’t turn your head. Just use your eyes.”
I think I manage it.
He asks me several yes or no questions I can answer.
“Can you say Cora’s name again for me?”
“C…or…a.”
“Very good. You said it much better than you did a few minutes ago. I think it’s just the swelling in your throat that is causing the issue and nothing related to your neuro trauma. We’ll try again in an hour or so. I’m going to have them bring ice packs to apply to your throat to help the swelling go down. It’ll be uncomfortable, but it’ll help.”
I want to tell him about my hearing, but it’s so hard to talk.
He pulls the blankets back that are covering my legs. One is in a cast and they’re both black and blue. The shock of it renders me speechless in a manner of speaking.
“I need you to wiggle your toes for me. Can you do that Cora?”
All I can do is stare at the patchwork of bruises on my legs.
Something sharp runs up the instep of my right foot and I jerk in response. The doctor is running a metal instrument up my foot. He does it to the other one and it elicits the same response.
“Good, there’s feeling there. Can you try to wiggle your toes for me again?”
I didn’t do it the first time, but now I do. He smiles triumphantly. “Very good.”
Was he afraid I was paralyzed?
With how many times I was stomped and the way I couldn’t move, I understand why he might have worried about that.
They run me through a battery of tests, but don’t tell me how I did. Which worries me. I can’t even ask the way my voice is right now.
