50
Thursday February 20, 2020 - Rising
7:00 am
I remember Monday evening. I remember stroking Max’s hair to wake her up and helping her from the dining room table to the sofa. I remember how weak she was because of the blood she had given me. I remember watching her sleep and thinking how beautiful she looked. I remember the beauty and peace of that evening. Last night, I did all those things again. I stroked her hair, I helped her up, I watched her sleep, but the circumstances were entirely different. Monday’s peace was shattered and was replaced by horror and worry. I couldn’t get the image of the blood pouring from her eyes out of my brain. And I couldn’t erase the thought of the five thousand volts that I had just pumped into her head.
All I could think is that we needed to get out her of there. That office reeked of death. Just being there increased my fear that we would lose her. My hand shook almost uncontrollably as I stroked Max’s hair. I so desperately needed her to wake up. I needed to know that she would be okay. I found myself using the same words as I had the other night. Yet I could barely keep the terror out of my voice as I struggled to coax her awake.
"Max. It’s time to wake up now."
"Max. We’re done."
"Max. It’s time to go home."
With each word, I pleaded with her to hear me. I pleaded for her to respond.
When she finally did, I helped her sit up and I pulled her close to me, supporting her in my arms. As I held her, Cindy wordlessly retrieved my wheelchair. When Cindy returned, she gently helped Max stand up. On Monday, Max had walked happily, if a little unsteadily, from the table to the sofa. But last night, there was no happy but tired smile on her face. There was just fear and exhaustion. She leaned heavily into Cindy as we made our way out of that place. When we got home, Cindy helped Max onto the sofa, where she instantly fell asleep. I watched her sleep all night, but this time it was from worry not happiness. I have kept up a constant vigil, wary of every change, afraid that she would stop breathing or start seizing again. Max has been in a lot of dangerous situations before, but I have never been so concerned for her life. Then a few minutes ago, she stirred for the first time. She turned and snuggled into the cushions. That was the first real sign that she might be okay. Now I can breathe again.
11:00 am
When Max woke up, the first thing she asked about was Cindy. Despite everything that happened, it was Cindy she was most concerned about. Max inserted that implant into her head so she could save Cindy. It didn’t matter at all to her that she could have died. She had to save her friend. But I should not be surprised. Max is willing to risk everything to protect those she loves. She has proved that to me many times. Once Max was steady enough on her feet, she followed Cindy into the kitchen. I could hear them talking softly and crying together. When they came out a few minutes later, I knew that she had told Cindy the truth. Their friendship is much deeper and more powerful now than it has ever been. A short while later, they left for work as if last night had never happened. I would have thought that they had both earned a day off. But I think they both wanted to experience their normal routine again and put the horrific unreality of last night behind them.
I, on the other hand, can’t put last night behind me. I still can’t get it out of my mind. When I arrived, the office was already a war zone. There was barely anything I could do to help Max. All I remember was seeing a breaker switch and thinking that if I could provide her with a cover of darkness for even a few moments, it might give her some advantage. Now that I look back at it, I don’t know how I managed to reach that switch. I remember throwing myself at it and grabbing onto anything to keep myself from landing on the floor along with my chair. That breaker switch was over six feet above the ground. I would have had to hold myself in a vertical position with only one arm to be able to reach it. Even with the adrenaline that was coursing through my body, I wouldn’t have had the upper body strength to do that. And even if I did have the strength, there was nothing to hold onto at that height. There was no way I would have been able to reach it. I remember getting rocked by the blast as a grenade exploded, then hearing the sickening thump as Max landed against a piece of furniture. What I remember the most, though, was the panic I felt when I heard the safety click off a gun and a voice telling Max that he wanted the implant back. He was going to shoot her! The next thing I remember, the lights were off and I was flat on my stomach, yelling at Max to move.
How…?
Oh God!
1:00 pm
I was able to reach the breaker switch because I used my legs to push myself into a vertical position. I moved my legs.
I’ve spent the last two hours teaching myself to stand again. This time, I was smart enough to use the training table for support. I definitely didn’t want to recreate Tuesday’s fiasco. But today was no fiasco. Everything was different. I didn’t need to use my arms to place my feet on the floor. I could move them of their own volition. The hardwood felt cold and firm under my feet, and when I slid forward in the chair, I could feel the cushion moving under my thighs. Then using the training table for stability, I pulled myself up. As I slowly transferred my weight from my upper body to my legs, I could feel them supporting me. I could feel my quads, hamstrings, gluts and calves straining to do the work that hadn’t been requested of them in ten months. I could feel them shaking under the stress. After about ten seconds, my legs gave out and I sagged back into the wheelchair. Those were the most miraculous ten seconds of my life.
Ten minutes later, I could feel the strength returning to my legs and I was ready for another attempt. I've repeated the process about a dozen times in the last two hours. With each attempt, I was able to place more weight on my legs and support myself longer. I can now stand up without using my arms at all. I even tried to take a step, but I didn’t have the strength or balance to stand on one leg and lift the other off the floor. But that doesn’t matter. I’m on my way. Max is in for a surprise tonight. She will be the first to know.