In Need Of Answers

Bright sunlight came through the window when I opened my eyes. My body ached. I didn't feel right. My head throbbed, muddled by all the noise that was coming into the room through the solid and glass walls. My spirit shifted, trying to find an escape from my body. I tried to get into a centered place. Into a space where I could feel and try and figure out just what was wrong with me. I mentally lay down a body map. I lay my body on that map. Chunks of me were missing, but what was weird was I still felt I had those chunks.

I couldn't feel my legs, but I felt I still had legs. I tried to move them. I felt movement when they wasn't any. I tried again, focusing a little more on the location of the movement. It was in my abdomen. Why were my legs in my abdomen? Why didn't I have legs anymore? I lifted my skeleton arms and bony hands and ran them across my body. Wires were attached to my chest monitoring my heart. My abdomen was flatter than it had been. My breasts were gone. My legs were definitely gone. I started to bring my hands up to my head. Something slid across my arm.

I tried to move my head and found I couldn't. My neck was in a brace. I raised my arm and turned it. My arm was a lot thinner than they used to be. There was an I.V. in it too. I'm surprised they they got the needle in my arm in the first place. I didn't recognize the color of what was in the tube. I followed it back to the bag hanging from the stand. The tube was tinted, but it was feeding nutrients to the cells. The slight shift in my head made me aware of the oxygen tube up my nose. What had happened? How did I end up in the hospital? How long had I been out to leave me this emaciated?

Looking up at the ceiling, I furrowed my brow. With how wasted I was, they would have taken out my contacts. But, my vision was 20/20. No. It was even better than that. I could see the depth and texture of the ceiling. I turned my eyes to other objects in the room at varying distances and noticed the same. It didn't matter how quickly my eyes shifted, nothing in between seemed to blur as it had with my contacts. I wish I had a mirror to see my eyes for myself. This was weird.

Tennis shoes thudded and screeched against the tile floors as someone approached my bed. I turned my eyes and found myself staring at the face of my best friend from college. Robert. I reached out to him. His touch was very light—almost like he was afraid I was going to break. I tried to grip his hand, but my fingers could hardly bend. He set his hand over mine.

"Do you know me?" he asked softly.

"Robert," I rasped.

His eyes widened slightly in surprise, but he smiled. "Yes. Do you remember who you are?"

"Tansy Fairfield….What happened?"

"You don't remember?"

"No."

"According to your research team, there was an accident at the lab."

My brow furrowed. "Accident?"

I closed my eyes for a moment to try and remember. Nail like pain pressed against my skin. I felt something start to push through and lightly caress my skin. But I knew nothing touched me. Robert would have said something were that true. He set my arm down on my chest and started to let go. I opened my eyes again.

"Robert?" I whispered before he could step away.

"Yes, Tansy?"

I took a deeper breath to release the tension I still felt from the pain. "What do my charts say is wrong with me?"

"I don't know," he replied. "I've not been allowed to see them."

"Can you get them for me to look at?"

"Alright."

Robert brushed the top of my bald head very, very lightly before he left. Just as soft as someone would touch a newborn baby.

I thought about what he told me while I waited. Why would my research team lie about what happened? Had I been on my way to work? Was I at work? Had I been home and someone tried to come get me because I was late? Something had happened to bring me here. Something had changed to make me feel like I was laying in a body that wasn't right. A body that was both too small and too big—despite my legs being gone; being inside my abdomen. I didn't quite understand these weird feelings, motions, that I was and wasn't experiencing. Nothing we worked with in the lab would explain these symptoms. Hopefully seeing my chart would provide me with the answers I needed.

Robert returned with my chart in a security sealed envelope. He showed me the seal, so I could see that it had not been tampered with. He broke the seal and pulled out my chart. He opened it then turned it so I could see what was in my charts. I took my time to review the pages. Only having him turn to the next one when I felt I had gleaned what I could from the doctor's notes.

Both of my femur and fibula bones had shattered, only leaving the tibia's intact. In order to save my life, they had to amputate both legs so I didn't bleed to death. So why did I feel like I had my legs still? I continued to scan the chart. I had been in the hospital for two months. After the surgery, I had multiple seizures. Seizures that both fascinated and puzzled the doctors. My higher functioning mammalian brain was no longer in my head. Only the reptilian brain remained. That would explain Robert's surprise when I spoke.

I lifted my hand to my head. My skull had been reformed. Much smaller than it had been. But still heavy enough to risk breaking my neck. My total body weight had changed from 120lbs to 55lbs. And from the rapid decline I knew my body was still loosing weight. My body was still falling apart, while at the same time maintaining normal function. My next breath hitched as shooting pain laced my ribs. It felt like someone was taking a very course nail file to them. I gasped. I wanted to hold by breath, but I made myself breathe through it.

"Tansy?" Robert asked.

The pain subsided as quickly as it had come.

"Are you alright? Do you need anything?"

"No," I groaned.

"How much pain are you in?"

"Less than I should be if these charts are really accurate."

He nodded. He'd been reading them upside down.

I had him turn the page in my chart so I could continue to look everything over. My blood tests came back clear of infection or known auto-immune diseases. But where I had lost so much weight and my body was losing mass I only had one guess as to the culprit. I looked through the rest of the pages before my entire abdomen cramped. This was worse than my hardest menstrual period. I bit back my scream, but my eyes watered. Something unnatural was definitely in my gut. My legs kicked the tightening muscles despite knowing I had no legs.

"Let me get you some pain medication," Robert suggested.

"They won't help with this, Robert," I heaved then shuddered. "I have my parent's disease."

"The One Sided Battle?"

I nodded. "Can I ask why the CTs and MRIs haven't been tried again?"

"Other than to scan your head to make sure you didn't have a concussion. You haven't been stable enough for us to do more," the doctor said, stepping in. "Whatever is going on with you makes it near impossible to get the images necessary since you kept having seizures."

I nodded my understanding.

"Are you finished reviewing your chart, Ms. Fairfield?"

"For now, Doctor."

He took the chart from Robert and left the room.

"Robert?" I asked.

"Yes, Tansy?"

"Take a blood sample and do an isomer contrast. That will give the doctor what he needs to know what is happening to me."

"Okay."

"Will you, also, take me to get the MRI done?"

"I'll need to run that by…."

"No. I want to know what is going on with my insides before he sees the images."

"What are you thinking you'll see?" he asked.

"I want to… see if what I wrote in my…." The feeling of the course files returned to my rib cage. They sawed away longer this time and I barely contained my scream.

Robert pulled a syringe of morphine from his pocket. He grabbed my IV to push it in.

"Please, don't," I whispered, stopping him.

"But you're in pain."

"Not anymore."

"Are you sure?"

I nodded. "I want the MRI to make sure my dissertation is correct."

"Just for that?! Tansy. You're dying."

"I know. Please, Robert."

"Alright. But the images go in your chart when you are done with them."

"That's fine."

He nodded.