Page 77 of Brain Damage

Clark seems surprised. “I’m here for the family meeting.” He winks at me. “I’m your family, am I not?”

“Right,” I say. I still feel confused about the whole thing. Why is Clark here today? Who asked him to come?

I start to ask him, but then I suddenly feel self-conscious about my speech. And then my mom and the therapists show up, and we all go into the room together. I guess I’ll figure it all out eventually.

Dr. Williams sits at the head of the table in the conference room, and I’m next to him, with my mother beside me, and Clark across from me. Amy (my speech therapist), Valerie (my occupational therapist) and Natalie (my physical therapist) are sitting at the other end of the table. All three of them keep casting curious looks at Clark, I guess because they haven’t seen him before. Amy is shooting him the stink eye.

“Before we begin,” Clark says to the people around the table, “I just want to introduce myself. My name is Clark Douglas, and I’m Charlotte’s husband. I haven’t been around much because my work has kept me busy, but from now on, I’m going to be around a lot more.”

“We certainly appreciate that, Mr. Douglas,” Dr. Williams says. His tie has pictures of balloons on it, which is somehow comforting to me. He clears his throat. “I’d like to start the meeting by thanking everyone for showing up. I know we all care about Charly very much and want the best for her.”

Everyone in the room nods in agreement. My mother puts her hand on my right hand and gives me a squeeze.

“I’d also like to say,” Dr. Williams continues, “that Charly has made huge progress since she’s been here. I think we all remember what she was like when she first was admitted to the hospital.”

Everyone remembers except me. And maybe Clark, since he wasn’t around.

“However,” Dr. Williams goes on, “at this point, we are beginning to feel that Charly’s progress is slowing down, and her insurance will not continue to cover her stay here. I’ve argued this point with them repeatedly, and I’m afraid her days here are numbered.”

I look over at Amy, who is shaking her head. “It’s not right,” she says. “Charly is doing great with me. She’s getting better at reading, and her speech is so much better than it was before.”

“I agree,” Clark says eagerly. I guess he’s glad to have something to contribute. “She sounds light-years better than last time I saw her.” He looks at Amy and winks at her. “You’ve done a wonderful job.”

Amy gives Clark a look. “Thank you,” she says quietly.

“Charly is not making great progress on my end,” Valerie speaks up. “Her neglect of the left side is a huge barrier and it hasn’t improved at all. She completely ignores her left side when she’s dressing and bathing herself. She fights me when I try to dress her. Basically, I have to do all the work and then some. And now her muscles are getting tighter on the left side, which makes it just that much harder.”

Dr. Williams nods, not looking surprised at all. I know Valerie thought that I wasn’t doing a good job, but to hear her say it in front of everyone makes me feel terrible. It sounds like she’s talking about a bratty child. It’s not like I can help what my stupid body can and can’t do.

“What do you think, Natalie?” Dr. Williams says to my physical therapist.

“I have to agree with Valerie,” Natalie says. She sounds sadder about it than Valerie did. “As she said, the left neglect really makes things hard. Walking is really difficult for her, because she doesn’t have any control over her left leg. She’s definitely going to be using her wheelchair when she leaves here as her primary mode of mobility. And even that she has trouble with. She isn’t able to use her left arm to wheel the chair at all.”

“What about a power wheelchair?” Dr. Williams suggests.

“Oh God,” Natalie says. “That would be a disaster. She’s already bumping into things in the manual wheelchair. She’d be dangerous in a power wheelchair. She can go very short household distances using her right arm and leg to propel her, but for anything longer than that, someone will have to push her.”

“And what about using the bathroom?” Dr. Williams asks Valerie.

Valerie shakes her head. “She can’t do it on her own. At all. Like, not any part of it. She needs somebody to help her move to the toilet. She doesn’t even wash her hands properly afterwards.”

Dr. Williams looks thoughtful. “And Amy,” he says. “Do you think that Charly can be left alone when she gets home?”

Amy doesn’t meet my eyes. “No. She can’t. Not for more than a few minutes. She’s not safe.”

Despite the fact that Amy has been my biggest cheerleader, that comment hurts me most of all. I’ve tried so hard to prove to everyone that I could be alone safely. I can’t believe she would say that.

It’s not true. It’s not.

Dr. Williams turns to my mother. “I think you can see, Mrs. McKenna,” he says, “that Charlotte is going to need a great deal of help when she gets home. It’s my understanding that you don’t feel that you can provide that help.”

“I wish I could,” my mother says, her voice trembling. “But I have arthritis and a bad back. I just… I can’t…”

Dr. Williams nods. “It’s all right, Mrs. McKenna. There are other options for Charly. We can use her disability insurance and savings to hire someone to help her, but my understanding is that it may be beyond your financial means. Alternately, we can look into a nursing home in the area.”

I’ve been feeling increasingly sick through this meeting, and now, when Dr. Williams mentions a nursing home, it’s like a hand tightening around my throat. “I don’t want to go to a nursing home,” I say. I’m scared that I’m about to cry. I don’t want to cry in front of everyone here.

Everyone in the room is really quiet. It occurs to me that everybody knew about this except for me. Everyone knew that this was eventually going to happen, that I was going to end up in a nursing home. They’ve just been waiting to tell me about it, shielding me from the horrible inevitable truth.