1 Prebirth: Potential

The child who has not yet been born could become anything.

Oh, the pain! Nothing but pain! Fire fills my veins! The slightest involuntary twitch brings scorching madness. A sound of laughter to my left brings agonizing pain, from my face, down my neck and covering most of my back and chest ... from just the thought of turning and looking towards the sound. I lay here, somewhere, every breath a torture to my sanity. The wrongs I must have committed to deserve this hell.

Rhonda and Jacky have been in this hospital for four days now. Rhonda was sitting with her daughter in the waiting room, she just couldn’t bear to see her husband in a coma with all those tubes running out of him very often. As frequently as she could manage, she would get out of that room and sit with her daughter. She looked at her daughter with concern, “How are you doing baby?”

“I am fine mom.” Jacky hated being called ‘baby’ ... I am fifteen now, but she still treats me like a child.

“Were you able to get your homework and missed assignments from school?”

“Yes mom, I told you I would handle it.” Jacky sighed. “How much longer do we have to be here? They said he was fine, why can’t they just wake him up?” She felt tears starting to form. I AM NOT going to cry again!

“I don’t know baby. Hopefully we will know more tomorrow.” Rhonda turned in her chair and put her arm around her baby. “Are you tired? You want to lean into me and get some rest?” She noticed Jacky’s tears and felt hers starting to flow as well. If she leans into me she won’t see mine.

Jacky turned and leaned into her mom and tried to distract herself with the boring show on the HV. Eventually the warmth and safety of her mother pulled her into a dreamless sleep.

Rhonda really liked when her too-grown-up baby snuggled with her like she used to. She couldn’t rest though, she was too plagued by worry and guilt. If she had just checked on him sooner, he would be OK right now, he wouldn’t have hundreds of tubes and hoses coming out of his body. He wouldn’t be on the brink of death. She cried as silently as she could.

I fade in and out of consciousness. The pain is constant, not throbbing ... just relentless. The pain is training me not to move, not to breath on my own. It is the only way to cope. Occasionally I hear voices to the left but I know better to even think of trying to look. I just lay here trying not to go insane, listening and trying not to feel. I hear someone walking towards me. There is a rattling sound below me by my feet. The steps are closer now on my right side. My right arm screams in pain as someone grabbed me...

My left hand is screaming in pain. It shoots up into my shoulder every time they move my hand. It is all I can do not to blank out again, when I wish I would.

“ ... keeping up with her school work, so that’s not a problem.” I hear crying. “She just wants her daddy back, I need you back. You CAN’T leave me like this! I can’t do this on my own. I don’t know what to...”

My hand! Let go of my fucking hand! TOO MUCH P...

“I have good news,” the doctor said before sitting in front of Rhonda and Jacky in the waiting room. “We have kept an EEG on Mr. Sanders since we determined his coma state. The first couple days we saw spikes in his upper brain waves we assumed was machine error or just noise. We have replaced the EEG twice now, and the spikes continue and are progressively getting longer in duration.” The doctor readjusted in his seat, to make sure he had the family’s attention. “We have concluded, from reviewing his scans since he first arrived, that in the last seven days Mr. Sanders has come out of his coma thirty-seven times.” He held up his hand to stop the questions he could see about to burst. “The good news is that the duration of time keeps getting longer except for a few instances that coincide with him having visitors.” Lowering his hand ready for questions now, he took a deep breath.

Rhonda jumped in first. “Do you know yet what is causing the coma?”

“After more than two hundred years of medical science focused on the brain, it is still a mystery. Now a coma is the bodies w—”

“Yes! Yes, we know that a coma is meant to heal the body. But you said he was fine, so what is causing the coma?” Rhonda was clearly trying to hold back her frustration with the lack of answers from the doctors.

“We just can’t determine that yet, I am sorry. All his test come back normal. As far as I am concerned, he is extremely healthy for his age.” The doctor sighed. We need to focus on the positive. “If his EEG continues to show increasing duration of higher brain functions, I feel confident he will make a full recovery. Now if you will excuse me, I have other patients.”

As the doctor left, Rhonda turned and grabbed Jacky in a big hug and starting kissing all over her face.

“MOM!” Jacky couldn’t help but smile over her mother’s exuberance and hugged her back as hard as she could.

I am not sure if the pain is getting less, or I am just dealing with it easier. The slightest twitch still brings agonizing pain. I hear more footsteps heading my way. I try my best to prepare myself as best as I can for the pain I know is coming.

‘This guy is so hot. I wish he would get a boner, I haven’t had my itch scratched in three days ... smile. Maybe if I play with it some it will wake up. Well, I do need to change his sheets, you can’t blame me for some accidental touching ... or hard stroking, slurping, riding ... UGG, it is too early to change my panties, I still need to do 306 tonight, he always has a boner ... humming.’

What the fuck? Am I about to get raped? She has balls to talk like that out loud, she must think I can’t hear her. When I g— AaRGhh she is turning me over ... I can take it ... MY DICK! MY BA...

“ ... at school. Your daughter had the nerve to ask to go out with a boy this weekend, with you still in here. I swear she looks at me like I am an idiot most of the time. AND — NO boy is going to improve THAT attitude of hers. I should send her to live with your mother on the farm over the summer. See how she likes to date her boyfriend over holo calls for four months.”

I could hear her moving around. She grabbed my left hand! The Pain...

“Danny, I need you to wake up for me. I am going crazy not able to talk to you. Your daughter is driving me up the walls. Your mother keeps calling me for news and I have nothing to tell her.”

I think I heard sniveling, maybe crying. Definitely crying. She let go of my hand. I heard some more shuffling around. Is she HUGGING ME!? Aaragaahh...

“ ... scans. That is the alarm I mentioned,” a man said. “Mr Sanders, can you hear me? If you can hear me, can you move a finger on your left hand?” The man turned and was talking to someone else. “All signs indicate he should be awake right now.”

“He looks the same to me, I don’t see it.” I recognized her voice, the hugger!

“No, he is awake, the EEG shows more upper brain activity than an average person, well above. Mr. Sanders, I am going to test your autonomous reactions by rubbing a pen up the bottom of your right foot. It may feel strange but just relax.”

No, no, please, no, no, “FUUUCK!”

“Ahh, Mr. Sanders, you are awake. I must apologize for my previous actions, we had no idea you were in pain.” I could hear the man stepping closer. “I am doctor Englewood, and I have been monitoring you since you came to us. You are quite the mystery. I have you on a mild pain medication to help dull any pain but to keep you as mentally clear as possible. This may sound counter-intuitive, but I need you to move your body to answer some questions. Let’s use any finger on your right hand for yes, and any finger on your left hand for no. If you understand what I am saying and agree, please wiggle any finger on your right hand.”

I still felt pain, but it was ... far away. I felt it but it was like I really didn’t care. Focusing on my right index finger, I moved it as little as possible.

Gasp! “I saw it!” Just great, the hugger is back...

“That is great Mr. Sanders. Did moving that finger cause more pain?” the doc asked.

I moved the same finger again.

“OK, we are making progress. Thank you for enduring the pain so we can figure out how to help you. Does being touched also cause pain?”

Again, I moved the finger.

“So, no moving or touching you without you being on some pain medication. That also explains why your period of lucidity is less during times the nurses are here. Very good Mr. Sanders, we are making real progress now. Do you know why you are in pain?”

I focused on the index finger of my left hand and wiggled it.

“OK. Do you remember what you were doing right before you lost consciousness?”

I wiggled no.

“OK. Mrs. Sanders, could you repeat say, the last hour you were together and interacting before you found him?”

I heard some shuffling and a couple steps towards me when hugger began speaking. “Well ... we had dinner that night. We had salad, then gravy beans cooked with ham, oh, and we had cornbread. Then he went out on the back deck and sat in his chair. I can’t remember anything specific we talked about. He goes out on the deck occasionally to think. When it was close to bedtime, I went out to tease him for being with his mistress all night and found him asleep, but he wouldn’t wake up. I got scared and called in an emergency.”

“Very good Mrs. Sanders. Is the teasing about the mistress an ongoing thing?” the doctor asked.

“Yes, for several years now, since we moved into that house,” Hugger said.

“Thank you, Mrs. Sanders. Now, Mr. Sanders, do the events of that night seem familiar, do you remember any of it?”

No, I wiggled.

“That is not unusual at all. In fact, most patients lose their memories just prior to a traumatic event. Do you remember being teased about a mistress?”

Hugger interrupted, “Actually he teased me about it; he referred to his deck chair as his mistress.”

“OK. Mr. Sanders? Does the mistress teasing seem familiar, or do you remember it?”

No, I wiggled.

“What does that mean?” Hugger asked. She sounded distressed.

“We won’t know for sure until we do more tests, it is most likely temporary due to the trauma. Please don’t worry about it,” the doctor said.

“Don’t worry about it?! Daniel, do you recognize my voice, my smell, do you remember anything about me?”

No, I wiggled

I heard a shriek and crying fading away as hugger left the room, I assumed.

“Please don’t be upset Mr. Sanders, this is most likely temporary. Let me run more tests to see what we can see.” The doctor didn’t seem concerned. “Is there anywhere on your body that you know of that doesn’t feel?”

No, I wiggled.

“OK. Mr. Sanders, I am going to lightly touch you in specific places. If you feel pain, please wiggle a finger on your right hand for ‘yes, I feel pain there’, If you feel me touch you and don’t feel pain please wiggle a finger on your left hand to denote ‘I feel you touching me, but there is no pain.’ Do you understand?”

Yes ... and he proceeded to touch me all over my body for what felt like hours. I felt pain in every spot. He seemed perplexed but didn’t elaborate to me, maybe hugger would tell me.

Over the next couple of weeks, I had several milestones. The first was: I had my breathing tube removed, that was a glorious day. Although I was still feeling pain, it was bearable. A few days later I opened my eyes for the first time. I immediately struggled with the brightness, but I got used to it. Then I was able to talk. Seeing hugger for the first time, I mean Rhonda, was a bit of a letdown. I guess I had had hopes she would be a supermodel or something. I would consider her a six, mildly attractive, seven if she was all done up. The doctor just looked like some random grumpy old guy, in a white coat. The last major milestone was today.

The doctor came in, looking busy as doctors do. “I have good news, Mr. Sanders.” Rhonda perked up a little listening, she had seemed depressed lately. “You have been off pain medication for four days now, and I would like to remove the last of the tubes tying you to that bed so you can move around. What do you think?”

I was obviously pleased. If I never had to see another hospital, even one as strange as this one, I would be a happy man. “The sooner the better doc.”

He smiled, and Rhonda had a weak smile as well. He just nodded, and turned and walked out the room.

By that night I had all the tubes removed, and had my first solid food. It wasn’t very filling, but what do you expect from a hospital.

Rhonda and I didn’t chat very much, or if we did, it was over inconsequential things. Apparently, that was due to doctor’s orders.

I did meet Jacky finally. She was cute as a button. If this is what Rhonda looked like at a younger age, I could easily see someone falling for her.

I tried to make her feel comfortable, despite my lack of memories. I thought I was doing good when I asked how she was doing in school. She started bawling and ran out of the room, so I didn’t do well enough. Even Rhonda was crying after that. I asked what I said wrong, and she just cried harder.

I was seeing a psychiatrist now, as well as the neurologist. The shrink wanted me to take pills and I refused which caused a bit of a mess. Even the president of the hospital came to visit armed with lawyers. I think they were recording the conversation by how they talked in legalize the whole time. I just explained that, memory loss aside, I didn’t want to take anything that would screw up my equilibrium. I wanted to see if my memories came back naturally before I started trying to fry my brain into submission with god knows what. They hemmed and hauled but eventually agreed with my stance. I didn’t know it was up for debate.

The hospital was really neat. The only thing, only physical thing in my room was my bed. All the sensors that were attached to me were wireless, that could be, my breathing tube and catheter attached to the bed. The really neat thing was the monitors, well the bed was the monitor I guess, but how they displayed. The wall behind my bed was all my vitals in big print, and the screen was wider than my bed. It was projected onto the wall from my bed. When the nurses came in to check on me, they would wave at the wall and a hologram would pop out in front of them. They would manipulate the screen with this hologram. Coolest thing ever.

Some things never change. The toilet looked like a toilet. The shower was a shower. The spray was a little finer then what I preferred, but bureaucrats have to save a penny somewhere.

My sessions with the psychiatrist started getting intense. I still had no real memories, but I just knew some things.

He knew my feelings on drugs and seemed to accept them.

What was weird is at the beginning of every session he would ask the date. “I don’t know the date doc, no one will tell me even if I ask. I can only guess. I was told I was in here for more than a month. Looking outside it looks like spring or early summer. So, I guess it is some time in April or May 2018.”

Then he would go into history questions. Like who is the current president.

“Who can forget an asshole like Trump.”

Most of his questions were off the wall, and I doubted if I would know the answers with all my memories.

Then we would do ‘exercises’ like brain twisters, riddles, and those splotches things where you say the first thing that comes to mind. I am pretty sure I did well on the splotches, he seemed more agreeable and, I don’t know, excited? ... while we were doing them.

We tried hypnosis as well. It never worked. He got so frustrated one time, I decided to fake it. I was doing good until he started asking weird questions.

“Dan, when you were young and still living with your mother, did you think she was attractive?”

“Yes”

“Did you ever sneak in and see her why she was bathing?”

“No”

“Did you ever masturbate to thoughts of your mother?”

I couldn’t help it and bust out laughing. “I’m sorry doc. I couldn’t keep a straight face while you asked those questions.”

“Were you faking just now? Pretending to be under hypnosis?” He was clearly upset.

“Yeah, sorry doc. You were just getting so frustrated, I couldn’t help it.”

“Mr. Sanders, for our relationship to work, it has to be built on trust. We can’t make progress if I suspect you have been faking answers at any time. Have you been faking anything else?

Looking properly chastised for his benefit. “No, just this hypnosis thing since you seemed to get so frustrated.”

“Good. This is important work to my ... your case. Trust is a very important aspect.” I noticed the stumble he made.

“Your what?” I focused on him and I knew immediately this asshole was writing a book. “Your book? Are you writing a book about my case?”

“That is not important to this—”

“THE FUCK it isn’t important to my case. You can’t write about my case, fictitious or otherwise, without my written consent. I am pretty sure I didn’t knowingly sign over my mental health to a greedy bastard only looking out for himself!” I stood up. “You are fucked, you better call a lawyer.” I walked over to his desk, opened the third drawer down and pulled out the first five chapters of my book.

“Get OUT of my desk! You can’t touch those things!” He tried to get in my way and grab the folder I was holding. Before I knew it, I was out the door and slamming the door behind me.

I took three steps to a nurse’s station and asked for help. “I just caught my shrink breaking the law, can you help me find the president of the hospital?”

She just looked at me stupidly, then snapped out of it. “Of course, let’s go upstairs right now.”

We walked over and got on the elevator. As the door closed, I could see that asshole running towards us. Fuck him. We got off on the sixth floor and I felt immediately out of place. These were some really plush offices. I was there with hospital pajamas and slippers.

She brought me to his secretary and introduced us. I thanked her profusely and she left. I turned to the secretary and explained what happened and asked to see THE man. “Of course. It will take a few minutes to get all the right people in a room. Would you like to have a seat while you wait? Would you like something to drink?”

“Coffee would be great, thanks.” I sat down where she pointed. A few minutes later my shrink catches up, all breathing heavy, red in the face. He doesn’t say anything, just immediately grabs for the folder. I catch his hand at the wrist and I give him a firm squeeze as a warning. I gave him the look, you know the look ... I raised three kids and three grandchildren, I had my look down to perfection ... and he got all of it. “Sit. Down.” He got white in the face. “Don’t talk to me, and don’t get out of that chair until someone calls you. Do you understand?”

He swallowed, “Yeah.” He sat down. What a fucking chump.

I was brought some coffee. The nice lady even brought out a tray with cream and sugar on it.

About twenty minutes later the secretary got a call, or was speaking to someone at least. “Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Yes, he is already here sir. Yes, sir.” She got up and came over to me. “He is ready for you, Mr. Sanders, if you will follow me?” Then she turned to my shrink. “I was told to tell you to wait here, he will be right with you.” She turned and led me back through the offices.

The office wasn’t as grandiose as I thought it would be. Inside was the president of the hospital with two what I guess were lawyers. I recognized one of them from before. They were standing and indicated for me to join them around a table. When we all sat down, the president turned to me, “What can I do for you, Mr. Sanders?”

“I need a new shrink, preferably a psychologist, because I don’t like the thought of mind-altering drugs. The one the hospital assigned to me let it slip in today’s session he was writing a book about me.” At this, I set the folder on the table and pushed it over to the lawyer I recognized. “He even left it on his desk.” I raised an eyebrow and continued. “I don’t feel comfortable with a shrink using me to fill pages in a book. I feel his greed outweighs my mental health.” The lawyer briefly paged through the book and nodded to the president.

“While it is not illegal to write a book about a patient so long as nothing identifiable is in it, it is ... uncouth to start writing—”

I held up my hand to interrupt him as courteously as possible. “I don’t know if that’s true or not, and if it comes to it, I will take him to court over it and challenge any precedence. That isn’t what you can do for me though. I don’t trust some asshole looking at me like a paycheck. I need a new shrink, and I need my old one removed from my case and kept away from my new one, that is where you come in. I need you to make the necessary changes while ruffling as few feathers as possible so my treatment qualities aren’t lessened due to talk at the office water cooler. Can you help me out?” I worded it like that so it would seem like he was doing me a favor. Hopefully so he wouldn’t think I would sue him and his hospital right along with that asshole.

He looked at his lawyer, who nodded at him again, then he turned to me. “I think that would be a very fair compromise in this situation.” He proceeded to tell me all the virtues his hospital stood for, blah blah blah. That was when something caught my eye.

Sitting in the middle of the table was a date block. Like an old-fashioned clock, before LED, where the numbers changed by a piece of plastic flipping down over the previous number. While I thought the date block was rather ugly in a plush office like this, that wasn’t what drew my attention, the date block said May 14 2136.

I held up my hand again to politely interrupt his spiel. “Is that a joke?” I pointed to the date block.

The second lawyer grabbed the block and took it off the table. She turned to me and said, “Mr Sanders, my name is Dr. Sandra Bowling, the senior psychiatrist for the hospital. I will be taking over your case if you are agreeable, and I will not be writing a book about your case now or anytime in the future. Will you be OK with me taking over your case?”

“Uhh, yeah, sure, that’s fine. What’s the deal with the date?”

“Mr. Sanders, would it be OK with you if we talk about it further in my office so these gentlemen can get back to work?” She looked at the president and he nodded back to her.

“Sure, lead the way.” I was suddenly feeling a little numb, maybe a touch queasy with the ramifications I was imagining. I am going to get locked up in a fucking cell and never see freedom again. “Actually, can you tell me where it is and I meet you there? I need to visit the restroom.”

I went down to my floor and the nurse’s station outside my room. “Do you know if my wife is here, or how to get in touch with her?”

She smiled and flipped her hair back. “Sure, let me check for you, honey.” She proceeded to type into her hologram. That is when it clicked in my head. This is the one that nearly raped me. “I see her signed in forty-five minutes ago. If she isn’t in your room, the waiting room is 214.” She pointed down the hall. “Go down and take a left at the intersection, second door on your right.”

“Thanks, you have been a big help. I didn’t even mind the accidental touching.” I smiled. She smiled even bigger back. I could almost hear it click in her head when her eyebrows shot up, her smile gone, she even paled some. I couldn’t help it, I just laughed at her and left.

Rhonda wasn’t in my room, but I did find her in the waiting room. I got her attention. “Rhonda, could we go talk in my room please?” I held out my hand to her. I saw the beginnings of a smile, then it vanished.

“Sure.” She grabbed my hand, and I pulled her close as we walked to my room. I sat her on my bed, pulled a chair over and sat in front of her.

“I have a real problem, Rhonda.” I let the tension build a moment.

“What is it.” She looked about ready to die.

“I caught my shrink in the middle of writing a book about me.” She let out a sigh of relief.

“So?”

“Well, the problem is, I don’t feel like a patient anymore, I feel like a paycheck and a science experiment. I have a crazy vibe like they don’t want me to leave and will do anything, or say anything to keep me here.” I looked at her in the eyes, and with all the feelings I could muster, I said “I want to go home where I can start to heal.”

She got the biggest smile on her face and lunged at me giving me a hug. I could hear her start to cry, so I just rubbed her back until she settled down. She started kissing my face telling me she loved me, that’s when I grabbed her and sat her back on the bed.

“I want to love you, Rhonda, I really do. But I don’t have those feelings yet, and I think if I go home, I will heal faster and get those feelings back.” I rubbed her arms. “I need you to do something for me.”

“What do you need? I will do anything to get you back.”

“I need you to go get a lawyer, and start proceedings to get me forcefully discharged on an out-patient basis, with a caregiver of my choosing. Does that sound reasonable? I want to get better, I just want to get better at home.”

“OK, I can do that. Anything else?”

“If they need a reason other than the obvious, you can tell them about the book. You can also tell them I have been continually pressured to take drugs that will likely cause me to lose my faculties.”

“Is that true?”

“Sorta, but not really. If they try to force me to stay here though, that is the first thing they will do. They will force me to take so many drugs that I will either seem crazy, or be like an invalid requiring hospitalization. Can you do this for me? Can you get me my freedom to come home?”

“Of course. I love you.”

“Can I kiss you? It will be strange because it will be a first kiss for me.” She jumped in my arms and when our lips met it was nothing special, hopefully she will grow on me. She was panting when we separated, so I guess I haven’t completely lost my touch.

“Can you go now and do what you can? I have to go meet the head psychiatrist so she can poke and prod my head for a while.”

“Of course.” She stood up and grabbed her purse.

“Come back if you can once you get the ball rolling, or at least call me.” I opened my arms for a hug and she fell into me again. I smacked her on the ass. “Come back soon.” she smiled and left.

The door was open when I got to Sandra’s office. I knocked on the frame and walked in not waiting for a response. I closed the door and looked at her.

“Please come in Mr. Sanders, have a seat.” She nodded to her meeting area.

I sat down. “Please call me Dan, or Daniel if you prefer. I am just getting tired of being called Mr. Sanders. I feel like I should be looking for a used car salesman and hiding my credit score.” I laughed.

“Dan it is then.” She sat across from me, and seemed to relax. “What did you think when you saw the date on the table this afternoon?”

“Jumping right in, huh?” I smiled, then got serious. “I thought I would like some alone time in a back alley with my first shrink. That asshole was leading me along thinking it was 2018, despite how wrong it felt.” He goes for the three-point shot and ... swish!

“Why do you think he was doing that?” She squinted her eyes at me.

“I can only assume so he could sell more books. That is why it should be against the law if it isn’t already.”

“That is interesting, and very likely.”

This lady is good, trying to disarm me. I will have to be careful.

She continued, “So before today you had no idea it is 2136?”

“None. I mean the technologies I see around the hospital didn’t feel right if it was 2018, but I had no basis to deny his claims ... Well not really claims, he just led me down a rabbit hole and I followed not knowing better.”

“I see. Let’s put aside that for a moment. What do you see as your goals in our sessions?”

“I would like my memories back for one. There has got to be exercises, procedures, or something to follow that will likely lead back to my memories. If that isn’t possible or likely, I am going to need a strategy or tools to use, so I can rebuild my life and get to a stable place again.”

“You don’t feel stable now?” She crossed her legs.

“No, I don’t. I am missing all the context you take for granted when dealing with even simple situations.” I crossed my legs mimicking her, a sign of trust. “Who can I trust? Where is my support system if I feel lost? What are my hobbies when I am bored or need a change of thought? Basic stuff.”

“You are exceptionally well centered for someone in your situation. Do you feel that will aid you in your recovery?”

“I hope so. The way I see it, I can either get my ducks in a row or I can have a breakdown every time I realize I don’t know something as simple as my home address. What good would a breakdown achieve?”