Chapter 5 - Reclaiming the Pieces
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My fingers curled weakly into the sterile hospital sheets. The fluorescent lights above me seemed to blur into long, blinding streaks of white.
"What do you mean?" I asked, my voice trembling. "Luke said my body just failed. He said I had a condition."
"We found no evidence of any congenital condition," Dr. Shah stated firmly. "Someone entered specific, falsified notes into your medical history. They built a narrative that you were defective."
For years, Luke had constructed an entire universe around my supposed failures. He had explained my grief to the neighbors, my exhaustion to his family, and my brokenness to me. If the foundation of my entire adult life was a lie, I didn't know who I was anymore.
"There is something else," Dr. Shah said gently. "One of the fertility clinics listed in your medical chart closed four years ago. We contacted the physician whose name is on your reports. He says he never treated you in his life."
Before I could fully process the horror of a phantom doctor, Dr. Shah left to coordinate my burn treatments. She was replaced by a social worker named Dana.
Dana didn't immediately talk about the abuse. Instead, she walked around the room, asking me mundane questions. Did I want the blinds open or closed? Did I want the TV on? Did I want an extra blanket?
At first, I was confused. Then I realized what she was doing. She was handing me back my autonomy, one tiny choice at a time.
"You don't have to make every decision today," Dana said, draping a warm blanket over my feet. "Just the next one. Do you want your husband to receive medical updates?"
"No," I said. It felt good to say it.
"Do you want him permitted to visit?"
"No."
Dana wrote it down with a sharp, decisive click of her pen. "Do you want your sister added as your primary contact and medical proxy?"
"Yes."
May you like
Dana smiled warmly. "She called from the road an hour ago. She told me to remind you about the blue bicycle."
A tear slipped down my cheek, stinging my burns, but for the first time in years, I almost smiled. The blue bicycle. It was the bike Evelyn had taught me to ride on, promising never to let go of the seat, only to release me so I could fly on my own.
