For most of the time as I laid in the Italian hospital bed in a coma I could hear and see everything, just from above. Like I was floating in the room. I remember watching myself being wheeled into the hospital on a gurney, Nicolas frantically holding my hand and apologizing to me. The first few days of mainly silence as Nicolas ignored his phone calls and just stared at me. He would not even touch the food the nurses would bring him.
At some point I went from floating above my body, to floating in it, then really being back in my body. The last couple days before I “woke up” I was not able to see as much however I could hear things clearly and I remember the commotion of Vivian answering my cell phone and chatting with Chelsea from Los Hellas who was on her way to Zurich for a technology conference.
What surprised me most was my smell: I could smell everyone and everything with such heightened skills. I had started to memorize nurses by their own laundry or hair product smells. I memorized certain doctors who would do rounds while holding a coffee. I also distinctly remember being able to smell myself— and then as if she could read my mind Vivian put lotion on my hands and spritzed a bit of perfume on my hospital gown. I can’t wait to tell her how much that meant to me, especially to feel the clean wetness of the lotion and how soothing it was for a quick massage since everyone had seemed to forget my hands were exhausted from not moving and having needles in them.
Alas, my body and my mind work together and like an old computer being turned on (rebooted) I was starting my own journey and being an activated human again
Putting 2-and-2 Together
I wish I knew what compelled Vivian to search for me in Italy or dig through my online files, especially considering we were not personally all that close. Her courage was surprising (and refreshing) as I could hear her going through computer spreadsheets and mumbling to me in my hospital room. My words do not yet come out of my mouth or body great as I try to answer. She does not exactly notice at first that I am trying to answer her until my throat makes gurgling noises. My lips are really chap and dry too which does not help make speaking easier.
Between grunts and eye contact I answer Vivian’s question about the spreadsheet tab she found with millions of reported Swiss money funneling to Los Hellas:
Vivian: So the data, this data which is <checks file on laptop> is money FROM Switzerland To Los Hellas?
I nod my head yes and motion with my hands for some chapstick. Vivian sets her laptop down on a hospital side table and rummages through her backpack looking for chapstick. She is both excited, scared and you can tell her brain can’t decide if its more insane that I just woke up from a coma or that the Swiss are using dark money to fund chaos in Los Hellas…
Vivian: Okay, Okay. Let’s see so, you are from Los Hellas. Living in Switzerland. You find this data. You discover money that is supposed to go to startups in Switzerland is actually funding evil in Los Hellas…
Vivan finds her chapstick and without hesitating does not even bother handing it to me. She’s talking to herself, figuring out this equation. Comes up to my face like she’s done this a million times and puts the chapstick on my lips herself. Omg the relief. She does a couple rounds of chapstick since my lips are so dry the first layer evaporated instantly…the gliding feeling is beyond satiating and to be honest a relief as I do not yet know yet how coordinated I am with moving my body.
Vivian: American gal, works in Europe, only to discover Europe is somehow funding everything going wrong in American girls hometown.
I just… I just yet don’t quite understand. Or the who. Or the WHY.
As Vivian finishes putting chapstick on my lips her brain clicks from computer mode to human mode. She puts the cap on the chapstick and sets it nearby for easy access to use again. Then her body pops up…
Vivian: OMG ELLA YOU’RE ALIVE! AND YOU ARE AWAKE! AWAKE AWAKE AWAKE!
Vivian leans in like a little sister trying to hug an older sister, however it’s awkward because I’m in a hospital bed and barely can move because everything is so… stiff and dry, I wish I could bathe in a pool of olive oil.
Ella: thanks
I manage to whisper-squeak out a thanks. It’s obvious for now I’m going to be low on words, also my throat feels deeply scratched. I can tell for sure there was a tube or something down it at some point. After hugging me Vivian starts pacing herself around the hospital room, she is very hyper and you can see her mind is processing several major things at once. She stops pacing for a second. Looks at the hospital room doorway, looks at me, then back at the hospital hallway
Vivian: we gotta get you out of here Ella…
Vivian walks up to my hospital bed, lightly touches my head to tilt it down, moves some pieces of hair around (I’m assuming she is checking my wounds?)
Vivian: Ella, hang time. One minute.
Vivian then takes off quickly out the room down the hallway to a nurses station asking them questions and comes back in the room
Vivian: They are sending a doctor to see you in a bit to look at you. He or she will know how much longer til we get you out of this establishment.
While waiting for the doctor, I try to wiggle around. Mostly curious what’s working on my body and what’s not working on my body. It still feels strange to be IN IT instead of above floating like before. Vivian keeps pacing talking to herself
Vivian: <mumbles, mumbles> Ok so if even say 100 Billion is marked for Swiss, yet it goes to Los Hellas… who wins? Why would the Swiss do that? What is the math on that? hrm…
Finally a suave Italian-Arab female doctor knows outside the room coming in. She could almost be a supermodel and yet typical Italy she’s practicing medicine. She’s holding some papers I’m assuming are my medical files
Doctor: Buongiorno, Ms. Taylor. You woke up 1-2 days earlier than we expected. We had been decreasing your pain and sleep medicines slowly so apparently you are an energetic and impatient person <smiles>
I motion to the doctor that I will not talk much but will nod yes or no. Vivian is ready to leave already and awaiting eagerly what the doctor says. The doctor leans over and checks my head again similar to how Vivian did it, she gently shifts some hair parts around for a better look. She flashes a light into my eyeballs quickly. Informally takes my pulse with her hand on my wrist.
Doctor: Your recovery is going to take months if not years. We still will not know all of what has happened, however judging your scalp and your vitals assuming you feel well enough yourself, I would say in a day or two you are welcomed to check yourself out of the hospital. Data has shown people do tend to heal and heal better at home
<looks at Vivian>
Are you flying or taking the train back to Zurich?
Vivian: train
Doctor: Ok good then. This is the best right now, Ms. Taylor should not be flying for minimum a few more weeks and should be careful of stairs, elevators or anything which can cause an imbalance in her ears while she is healing
You two can work it out, train is the best way for Ms. Taylor lets see later today if she can walk and then
Even though I myself am not sure if I can walk yet, I can feel my legs and toes and in my head hear myself say “dumbass b*tch can I walk…” so my attitude is very much live, I just cannot get my sassiness into real life yet.
Vivian pulls out her phone looking up the train schedules and finds us one for late at night the next day
Vivian: Ella what do you think? There’s an express train back to Zurich, one stop in the middle we could take it tomorrow after dinner and get back before midnight?
I touch my own scalp since I cannot see it and feel around, it is not swollen but there are scabs. I will definitely need to wear a hat. It feels okay though.
I give the thumbs up sign to Vivian.
The doctor looks at Vivian and shrugs her shoulders she does not mind. Vivian purchases our train tickets on her mobile phone
Vivian: done! Okay everyone let’s launch this space shuttle tomorrow night. Ella… what do you need?
I write down on a notepad next to me, in handwriting which is not great but readable and somehow I know it's from my hand:
soup
chapstick
wash hair?
Vivian grabs her chapstick and shows the notepad to the Doctor:
Doctor: Si, we actually have some chicken soup today on the cafeteria calendar.
We also have extra hospital chapsticks which are great I can grab a couple for you as a departing gift <winks at Ella>
No, you cannot wash your hair for another week. I know, it's gross. The body needs to heal more around the stitches and staples. Sorry for that. Also you will not be able to apply ANY products, hair dye, hair spray, chemicals, NOTHING for probably several weeks or months. Your doctor in Zurich will be better to consult you on that, do not book any hair appointments soon
She gives me this look, like, I’m onto you corporate girlie.
Vivian: Grazie doctor! We really appreciate it
Doctor: my pleasure
The doctor then walks out and the energy of the room feels like Vivian and I both have a million things to do and to also, sit around and wait. The hospital gown is starting to piss me off suddenly, the sensation of it. The human desire for dignity and wear some normal clothes begins to consume my brain making me intensely angry. I’m noticing as happy as I am to be alive and awake I’m also very angry? It’s almost chemical, like my blood has higher anger octane in it. I scribble on the notepad for Vivian
shorts?
T- shirt?
Clothes 4 me?
She can see it on my face the look of helplessness and frustration at helplessness and instantly goes to her backpack in the corner of the room sifting through. She holds up some blue gym shorts she clearly hasn’t worn yet
Vivian: these okay?
She holds up the shorts asking me. I nod. Its something. Vivan goes back to find a clean shirt as it looks like she’s used up most of her backpack items while watching me at the hospital. She digs into one particular corner of the bag and then struggles but eventually pulls out a clean black T-shirt thats been rolled up neatly into ball and holds it up. The T-shirt says in white text “Zurich Zebras math competition”
Vivian: I mean… its clean?
I nod again that it’s okay. Of fucking course I will be leaving this hospital in a Zurich Zebras shirt, which reminds me, where is my luggage? Where is my purse? Phew oh I see my red purse on the shelf. Vivian has my cell phone plugged into the wall too. Now I guess we just have to get my luggage somehow before we leave tomorrow night.
Also where the fuck is Nicolas? That trust-funding twerp.
Brand New Car Smell
With the help of Vivian I put on her Zurich Zebras T-shirt and blue gym shorts and already feel better. Vivian holds up various items she has and I point if I want something. I opted for some deodorant which I normally would not share with someone else but after whatever number of days my body had to rot in this hospital bed, I want all the products. Vivian also texts with Luca we are headed back soon then calls Chelsea who I guess is in Zurich
Chelsea: sup kiddo what’s the update I saw your text Ella is awake? This conference I am at is so incredibly boring, I wish I didn’t need it for an upcoming certification
Vivian: Yeah she’s a little cranky but I would be too if my side piece bashed my head in… anyway… I found something out I did not want to text you that is related to Los Hellas
Chelsea: huh?
Vivian: it’s fine, look. we are packing up here. I actually have to work on this computer science project tonight for school, I can do it here next to Ella. Ella is well… Ella-ing.
<Ella rolls her eyes at Vivian>
We got tickets for Zurich tomorrow so if you want to meet us with some food at the main station that would be amazing. We can all eat back at Ella’s apartment. So far she’s vibing soup
Chelsea: she always wants soup. Or Taco Bell. Don’t let her fool you.
Vivian: When do you leave Zurich?
Chelsea: conference finishes tomorrow around 7pm. Then I have another day around so I will fly back the morning after we all meet up
Vivian: perfect! Wait, does Ella even have her apartment keys?
Vivian then panics and looks at me, I point to my red purse
Vivian: Okay, phew she does. Alright it's weird and awkward here, see you tomorrow around 10pm at the main train station
Chelsea: sounds good
It Takes a Village
While I should be surprised that my junior Swiss data analyst is wiping things on my body as I sit in her gym clothes and my California hacker bestie is chatting with her like their are old time friends; oddly when you awake from a coma your ability to give a shit goes out the window. Humility is a luxury.
Feeling pressure to be excited to leave the hospital I am not looking forward to the journey which sounds exhausted. Just sitting up is exhausting. On the one hand I want to be home as soon as possible, on the other I wish I was in Los Hellas to kick Nicolas’ ass personally. I still can’t believe he brought me to Italy just to manipulate information out of me; I also can’t believe I LET myself get played, again, by a man. I feel the anger boil inside me like a nuclear reactor. I’m also just angry in general. At everything. If I had the energy to swing a baseball bat to break everything around me, I would.
As I get pissed off thinking about Nicolas, in my colleagues gym clothes, in a hospital bed, licking the fresh chapstick on my lips, a hospital nurse comes into the room with a tray of warm chicken soup—I can see the steam coming off the boil and the most perfect roll of bread next to it. Everything in my brain wipes clear—this bowl of soup is the most amazing creature of I have ever laid my eyes on, ever. My stomach gets excited. My heart gets warm. I feel my cheeks hurt from smiling. I sit up immediately as if the most presidential event is about to happen. I can’t remember the last time I ate on my own and I can feel myself drool inside my mouth a bit at the excitement. Vivian motions to me she will work on her laptop. I watch in slow motion as the tray of hospital food with steamy soup is placed on a table in front me. This might be the best day of my life.
Nurse: buon appetito Signora
Ella: questo è piacevole…
The nurse sets the soup down and leaves the room. I pickup the spoon for my big first real bite, excited for this wonder of warm and creamy chicken broth that hit my lips. As I taste the carrot and salts, I realize what I said to the nurse so casually.
I think I learned Italian in my coma? Questo è piacevole????