I now know for certain what matters most to me in the world, though that knowledge came at a heavy price. My beloved was caught between life and death…
Why, oh why did this happen to him of all people?! On that dreadful day, Paul decided to ride his scooter to work.
I always hated when he rode that thing, but my husband just smiled and said:
— Those rides remind me of the days when we first started dating.
What could I say to that? Even now, my heart skips a beat when I think back to those times. Paul’s joyful eyes, our long conversations, the thrilling moments of discovering each other, the awe and admiration, the first tentative touches; and then—the breathtaking, all-consuming passion that swept us both away…
— Paul, come on, really? — I still tried to dissuade him. — What a time to pick! Like a kid, honestly! It’s pouring rain outside, and it’s muddy. You’ll ruin your suit. And jeans, well, you know… You have a meeting with a client today!
— Don’t worry, sweetheart! I’ll do my best to dodge the puddles, I promise! — Paul laughed.
And off he went. That’s my Paul, always like that: once he’s made up his mind, there’s no changing it. But I should’ve convinced him. Maybe then nothing would’ve happened…
Or maybe I shouldn’t have said anything at all. It’s almost like I jinxed it… For two hours now, I’ve been sitting on this hospital chair, thinking and thinking… My back’s gone stiff, like a stake’s been driven through it. But if someone suggested I leave this place, I’d refuse no matter what!
I guess I just need to stretch a bit, walk around the room… I quietly got up and walked to the window. The weather’s rainy, just like that fateful day. Will every rainy day now pull me back to the past, forcing me to relive that horrific tragedy, blaming myself over and over? Will nothing ever change?!
Tears welled up in my eyes. I wiped them across my cheeks and sat back down in the spot that’s become so familiar over these past months. And once again, I started replaying every word Paul said that morning, every gesture of my beloved. I kept searching for my fault. Maybe he was so focused on staying clean that he didn’t notice the cursed car speeding around the corner? Torturous thoughts crashed over me like a tidal wave, draining my strength, exhausting me. “God, he’s been lying there for almost four months,” I thought. It feels like just yesterday we were celebrating our cozy new two-bedroom apartment, buying a car, planning a vacation abroad… And now…
Shaking my head, I tried to push away the heavy thoughts, ordering myself: “No wallowing! I have to stay strong! Like that day when Paul got into the accident, and I rushed to the trauma ward in an instant.” I stood in the emergency room, waiting, when an ambulance crew burst in. I rushed toward them, but the man on the stretcher was a stranger, covered in wounds and blood. Doctors swarmed around perpetually moving, so I stepped back against the wall to stay out of the way. Everything was a blur. More injured people were brought in, strangers came and went. An elderly woman was sobbing. They sat her down and brought her water…
Finally, someone touched my shoulder. Startled, I turned and saw an older doctor. He told me Paul had a severe traumatic brain injury and went on about the details, but I barely understood anything. Except for one thing: my Paul was on the brink of life and death.
— Right now, your husband is unconscious, — the doctor said. — He’s at three points on the Glasgow Coma Scale.
He paused, waiting for my reaction, but back then, I had no idea what that scale was. Now, of course, I know it well. The situation forced me to learn a lot and become a professional caregiver.
— I won’t lie to you, — the doctor added softly, probably realizing I didn’t understand, — your husband is in a deep coma, and he…
— I won’t let them unplug him from the machine! — I declared firmly, cutting him off.
— No one’s talking about that…
— And I’m staying here, with Paul! — I added in a tone that brooked no argument, surprising even myself with my resolve and courage.
Where did it come from?! I used to fall apart over the smallest things. The slightest problem would make my hands shake, my legs give out. In those moments, Paul would hug me and comfort me:
— Oh, my little scared bunny… Don’t worry, everything will be okay. Every problem has a solution.
But now, this sudden strength, something I never expected from myself… Snapping out of my memories, I adjusted the blanket over my husband’s helpless body. It used to be so strong and agile… Now, I bathed Paul, wiped down his back, changed his bedding, cared for him like a child. I learned from the nurses. Watching the rehabilitation doctor, I tried working with him, patiently bending and straightening his fingers and limbs. “So you can walk again, my love! And hold me!” I thought stubbornly.
No one but me believed in Paul’s recovery. Friends, relatives, and acquaintances who sympathized at first gradually drifted away. The illness dragged on too long. Even my mother-in-law tried to convince me to think about myself.
— Lucy, dear, I’m so grateful to you! It’s hard to say this, but Paul’s probably beyond help. And you’re still young, beautiful… — she said through tears during one of her hospital visits as I walked her to the elevator. — Think about yourself, sweetheart! You have your whole life ahead…
— Mom, Paul will come back to us, — I said calmly, hugging her. — You’ll see!
— When are you going back to work? — my close friend Jane asked. — It’s about time…
— Not yet, — I replied. — My place is here, you know that. We’ll see later…
— And how are you going to live? — she said, surprised. — And the doctors… Paul’s not just lying here for nothing. A private room, too! Everyone knows how that works…
— Jane! — I shot her a reproachful look but, seeing she didn’t mean to hurt me, explained: — I sold the car. It’ll cover things for a while—living expenses, doctors, the private room. Then Paul will recover, and I’ll find a job. Every problem has a solution, — I added, echoing Paul’s favorite words. — We could sell the two-bedroom and buy a one-bedroom…
Sighing heavily, my friend said:
— You’re such an optimist, Lucy… Is this really the only right choice? Are you sure?
— I’m sure!
— But what if… What if… — Jane bit her lip and fell silent. — I don’t want to say it out loud, — she continued after a moment. — But for your own good… You’re so young! Are you really going to spend your whole life by a hospital bed?
— Are you saying Paul won’t wake up? — I asked coldly. — He will, I know it!
— But how can you know? — she pressed.
— I just feel it, — I answered simply, and it was the honest truth.
That belief in a miracle kept me going through those long months. In moments of weakness, when exhaustion and others’ disbelief wore me down, I kept recalling our happy past and dreaming of the future. I read Paul his favorite travel books. He’d dreamed of seeing the world since childhood, and it became our shared dream, a kind of beacon…
It grew dark outside. Visiting hours ended, and the hallways fell silent. I turned on the desk lamp I’d brought from home. It used to sit in our bedroom, but since the hospital was our home now, it belonged here.
— Today we’ll read about Prague, — I said, opening the book. — Remember how we dreamed of standing on Charles Bridge, making a wish, and touching the famous cross? And climbing the Bridge Tower to see the whole fairy-tale city, blanketed in red-tiled roofs… Next year, we’re definitely going!
If anyone had walked into the room then, they’d probably have been shocked. But for me, speaking for both myself and Paul had become second nature. It helped me stay connected to him. I pulled my chair closer to the bed, took his hand, held the book up to his eyes, and kept dreaming aloud:
— Maybe we’ll even spend the night in that tower if we can outsmart the guards! And we’ll see the clock in Josefov! Can you believe the hands move backward? Or, say, at midnight, we’ll meet the famous Prague Golem!
A nurse popped in to check the equipment, and later another came to ask if I needed anything. I shook my head no and kept reading, though their pitying looks left a bitter taste.
I remembered how, a week ago, the doctor had warned:
— Even if your husband comes out of the coma, he’ll likely be incapacitated. His brain is severely damaged.
— How severely? — I asked.
— Hard to say, but he might not recognize you, for example.
— That’s impossible, — I said confidently. — Paul will definitely know me.
— It’s good that you believe that. We’re doing everything we can to help. But it’s time to face reality and try to accept the facts, — the doctor said, avoiding my gaze.
— My husband will wake up and recognize me, — I repeated stubbornly, looking him straight in the eyes.
He didn’t bring it up again. But once, when I stepped out to the bathroom, I overheard the nurses at the station:
— So pretty, so young! And now… such a tragedy!
I wanted to cry, but I stopped myself. Let them say what they want. My husband will wake up, no matter what anyone thinks! It’s only a matter of time… I’d planned to show Paul photos from his brother’s wedding. They’d invited me, but I declined. Tom lived in another city—it would’ve meant leaving Paul for days. What if he woke up while I was gone? The newlyweds weren’t upset; they even sent a small photo album inscribed: “To Lucy and Paul, with wishes of happiness. Us.”
— Look, darling, what a beautiful couple, — I said, holding the album up to Paul’s closed eyes. — Can’t see? No worries, you’ll hear. I’ll tell you. These are the wedding photos. The couple’s kissing. Everyone’s dancing. Your uncle Victor with aunt Vera…
Just then, the professor entered with several doctors, including our ward doctor. “Rounds must be starting…” I realized.
— Do you recognize anyone in this room? — the doctor asked Paul, though he looked at me, probably worried I’d have a breakdown in front of the professor.
The group stopped by Paul’s bed. And then… I froze. Could it be?! I’d waited so long, and now I couldn’t believe it! Paul’s fingers, under my hand, twitched slightly.
The album slipped from my hands and hit the floor.
— Come on, my love! Try again, — I urged, squeezing his hand a bit tighter, and… Paul responded! Barely, but he did!!! — He’s moving his hand! — I shouted.
The ward doctor rushed to me, put her arm around my shoulders, and whispered loudly:
— Oh, dear, calm down! That’s not possible! Please, calm down!
— You think I imagined it? — I said coldly, shrugging off her hands. — Try it yourself. — I placed her hand on Paul’s fingers.
She looked at me, then at the professor, then back at me…
— It’s true… — she said, astonished. — Call the on-duty nurse, — she told me. — And wait outside. We’ll call you. Please, don’t worry!
I don’t know how long I stood in the hallway. Finally, they called me back. I walked in and… Oh, God! Paul’s eyes were open! He was staring at the ceiling. I approached, looked into his face. Our eyes met… And then, despite myself, I burst into tears. He remembers me!
— Do you recognize anyone? — the doctor asked again, explaining: — We’re all in gowns, and we don’t know how his vision is. He might just see white blurs…
“Paul, my love, my only one! Come back!” my soul pleaded. Struggling to move his lips, Paul said something and looked at me with awareness. I knew he saw me. And recognized me.
— What did you say? — the ward doctor leaned over him.
— Lucy! He said ‘Lucy’! — I blurted out. — My name! He remembers me!
It was truly a miracle. No one believed, but I never doubted my husband would come out of the coma, and I always remembered the lines of a favorite poem: “How I survived, only you and I will know. Simply, you knew how to wait, like no one else…”
Paul is now in rehabilitation, still struggling with speech and walking. But having overcome the worst, I’m certain we’ll handle the rest. The main thing is we’re together and haven’t lost faith in the future. Always side by side with my beloved—what could be more important? God, who could’ve known the joy of waking up every day and saying, “Good morning, my love!”
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