Renewal [Emmett Cullen] (1)

[02- Aftermath]

"Number 3, are you ok?" he said, his voice shaking. I shook my head, tears streaming down my face like a river after winter. What followed was a blur. My mom dashed over, pushing aside players, horror in her eyes. I remember the paramedics asking me if I could wiggle my toes and touch my finger to my thumb, even more tears forming when I couldn't. My teammates didn't say anything, the bleak look on their faces spoke for them.

The rest of the day was a blur. I wasn't sure if I was in a nightmare or if it was reality. In the ambulance, they cut off my cleats and shin guards and administered a cocktail of painkillers. Mom was on the phone, frantically trying to get a hold of dad to give him all the information she knew.

At the hospital the doctors conducted CT and MRI scans. It was about midnight, I was finally lying down in the hospital bed. No more scans and blood drawn for the time being. A tepid knock came from the hallway and the doctor came in. She had a grim, sympathetic look on her face.

"Mr and Mrs Parks, Eleanor, unfortunately I have some bad news. The accident Eleanor has sustained damaged the lumber nerves at the base of her spine. Most patients lose function in their hips and legs. I'm so sorry. I wish I had better news." My parents gasped, their worst fears confirmed. Dad, a surgeon, immediately regained composure and began to discuss options for future in hushed voices outside the room. Mom squeezed my hand, wiping away the water that formed in the corner of my eyes, "It's going to be fine El. We will work this out."

"No!" I screamed. I tried to get up but my legs remained motionless. Tears streamed down my face. Mom put a restraining hand on my shoulder, forcing me to stay down. A slur of inherent words escaped my mouth. 

"It's ok El," mom massaged my hands in an attempt to calm me down.

"I'm useless!" I screamed again in fury and sadness. My future flashed before my eyes, my dream of representing America in the Olympics came crashing down. My coach was certain I would make the Olympic track team in the coming year.

This would be my new reality, lying in the bed, rotting away. I would basically be incapable for the rest of my life.

The first night in the hospital marked the beginning of my reoccurring nightmares. It was the same one, the split second of excruciating pain when my spinal cord became redundant. I woke in cold sweat, gasping for air, my hands shaking so hard I couldn't even pick up a glass of water without it spilling. This nightmare plagued me almost every single night, but of course, being me, I refused to ask for help, let alone mention it to anyone. It was beyond embarrassing.

The next week went by painfully slow. The people I called my friends - though we were more like acquaintances since I never had time to hang out with them - drifted in and out, leaving flowers and chocolates. I tried to put on a brave face, masking my relenting misery with a smile. The doctor told me that my rehabilitation would be difficult; the amount of things I would need to learn how to do would be extensive but she promised that the things I couldn't do would be unnoticeable. Except for running. There was no chance I would ever run again. Or even walk.

That's what hit me the hardest. Running was my addiction, my obsession. It was challenging, and sometimes it felt more challenging than anything else in this world but that's what made it so great. I was going to miss the feeling of being fast but most of all being free.

In the weeks or months after– I had lost track of time– my hospital room started to feel like home. I was stuck in bed for a couple of weeks, just until the inflammation went down.

After that, I started physical therapy and learnt how use a wheelchair. The nurse taught me how to go to the bathroom, shower, get changed, go to bed, and a long list of other mundane tasks that I never thought twice about before the accident. Learning how to use a wheelchair was harder than I thought. First I needed a back brace to readjust my center of gravity until I fully recovered. Turning was especially difficult but like most athletic things, I picked it up quickly. It would be the only exercise I would ever do.