All Chapters of The Siren Song Series: Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

The rest of the week feels like Groundhog Day. Over and over. The movie, not the actual day. Each day is more of the same. People poke and prod Moby; we hang out in his room watching TV, the therapists come around and do their thing with him, then we're alone again. Our friends were here for a couple days, but they all had to go back to work, as did my parents, and Moby's. Alyssa pops in the room, "Hey, guys! Want some news?" She's beaming. I hope that's an indication she has something positive to share. "Absolutely." I don't care if Moby wants news or not. At this point, I'd take any form of entertainment. I'm going stir crazy sitting in the confines of this sterile torture chamber. The only time I leave is to go get Moby or myself something to eat or drink. It's against the rules for him, but I don't care. If he can eat soup, he can eat ice cream. And yes, that's my professional medical opinion."You guys may be getting out of here in the morning. Moby crosses over the twenty

Walking down the halls of the third hospital in our tour around the state, I have to say this is, thus far, my least favorite. The lights seem dim; the walls need a fresh coat of paint, there are no people in the halls, it's unnervingly quiet. Nothing about this place screams life, and I inaudibly wonder how many people simply come here to die. It doesn't even have the typical sanitized smell-it's musty, like old people.I peek in the open doors as we follow the attendant pushing Moby's wheelchair to his room. Maybe it's simply because people who have strokes are typically elderly, or considerably older than Moby, but everyone I see looks like a wax statue. There's no color in their skin; no movement in their bodies; no one is visiting with them. They're just all old. Decrepit. Waiting to perish.I can't leave Moby here. There's no way I can leave my bright, vibrant husband to die inside these walls. His spirit will never make it here, not for any length of time much less the four

I hate this place. I've only been here a week, but I can't deny what it's doing to me mentally. I see my personality changing, the darkness breaking my spirit, the long days of rehab doing nothing for my psyche but forcing me to acknowledge just how bleak my future is. Every day, I see a physical therapist for an hour, an occupational therapist for an hour, a speech therapist for an hour, a psychiatrist for an hour, and group sessions, that while they only last an hour seem endless. I'm the youngest person here, other than the staff, by at least thirty years. I have nothing in common with anyone surrounding me except they too have given up the fight.It's hard to stay positive, or even motivated when nothing in my body functions the way it did just a few weeks ago. If I hear one more time, your brain has to form new pathways to relearn the tasks you once did I may punch someone in the throat. I don't want to learn new pathways, I don't want to learn to walk again, I don't want someon

Sitting in my office at Healing Wings an hour later, there's a light knock on my open door. Standing in the doorway is Sutton. "Hey, friend. Long time no see." I try to hide the hurt in my voice unsuccessfully."I'm sorry I haven't been around. I had reserve training and have been gone the last couple weeks. Don't be mad."I had forgotten she was out of town and now feel like a total ass. It's not like she can tell Uncle Sam she's going to be a no-show. "I'm sorry. I'm not mad.""What's got you down then?"I hand her the stack of bills, not just medical, but the bills from the condo, the house, utilities, cell phones, and everything in between. She looks through them, looking up with pity in her eyes."Don't do that, Sutton.""Do what?""Look at me like I'm pathetic. I'm going to be okay; I'm just a little overwhelmed. I was so proud of myself yesterday, I got rid of a huge stack of medical bills and saved a bunch of money paying them, but they just keep coming, and they'

"I'm sorry, I don't understand. How can the insurance company tell a doctor I no longer need to be here? Isn't it the doctor's job to determine that?" I'm trying to stay calm but having my caseworker tell me the insurance company is denying inpatient treatment beyond this week is skyrocketing my blood pressure. "I understand your frustration, Mr. Cooper, I truly do. I'm still arguing for another week, but I wanted to give you a heads up in case I don't win.""I can't walk on my own! Our house is not handicapped-ready. Piper isn't a nurse. She has to work. Who's going to help me with PT?" The questions come pouring out as fast as they pop into my head like a popcorn popper with no lid."When do you think your wife might be here today?"I understand Piper is the rational one of the two of us, but this is pissing me off. "It doesn't matter, does it?""I thought it might be beneficial for us to go over some other programs that might be able to help you if you're released this we