The surgeon came through the double doors still dressed in her blue uniform.
‘Evans?’ she called out to the waiting room.
A man and woman, both in their fifties, stood up anxiously and hurried over to meet the surgeon.
‘My name is Dr Emily Hamilton. I’m the chief surgeon. We’ve managed to stabilise him but I’m afraid your son’s condition is still critical. His injuries were quite extensive. He’s suffered multiple fractures in his right leg and arm – we’ve had to almost entirely reconstruct his left hand. He had internal bleeding from a punctured lung, a number of broken ribs, a chest contusion, a severe—‘
‘Sorry,’ interrupted Mr Evans. ‘A contusion?’
‘The impact on his chest has bruised his heart and the local blood vessels.’
‘Oh, goodness,’ said Mrs Evans.
‘He’s also experienced a severe head injury, despite wearing a helmet. However, what concerns us the most is the damage to his spine. He’s fractured several vertebrae. At this stage, we don’t know how extensive that damage is.’
‘You mean he might not walk?’ said Mrs Evans.
‘It’s hard to say. But as his current injuries are so severe, we need to focus on the next 24 hours. We’ve done all we can. Now it’s in his hands.’
***
‘Good morning. Come in, come in.’
The old man ushered me into his office and then took a seat behind his large, mahogany desk. An unimposing man with a portly build, he was dressed formally, with a charcoal suit and striped tie against a pristine white shirt. His hair, more white than grey, was neatly combed with a clear part on the side.
His office was carpeted and spacious, and neatly lined with ceiling-high bookshelves that matched his desk in both colour and sturdiness. Volumes of hardcover, leather bound books filled each shelf, varying only by the colour strip on the spine edge.
There was only one window with a view of a clear blue sky. Despite the light streaming in, an overhanging chandelier sparkled, offering a warm glow to the slightly shaded parts of the room. In front of the window stood a dark grey filing cabinet labelled A to Z.
On the corner of the man’s desk stood a lone fern, with small, rich green leaves; a spray bottle rested by its side. The man’s hands rested on an open file, where a photograph was attached to the front cover.
I sat down opposite the desk on a comfy leather chair.
‘Hello Will,’ the man started with a warm tone. ‘My name is Bernard, and I’m your case worker.’
‘Case worker?’ I replied, confused.
‘Yes. You’ve been involved in quite a serious accident.’
‘Wait. Am I dead?’ I asked, sitting forward on my seat.
‘Oh no. Not yet.’
‘Not yet?’
‘Well, it’s really up to you.’
‘Hang on. What? Wait. Where am I?’
‘This is the waiting room,’ Bernard said, resting his arms on his desk and lacing his fingers.’
‘What am I waiting for?’
‘Well, actually, it’s really more for us. See, this is where you get to decide whether or not you should continue with your life.’
‘But, that’s crazy,’ I replied. ‘Why wouldn’t I want to go back?’
Bernard shrugged. ‘You tell me.’
‘Then let’s not waste any time. I wanna go back.’
‘Is that what you really want?’
‘I just said I did.’
Bernard gave me another warm smile. ‘Will, we each have a story we tell ourselves. And that story can be governed by obligation, by commitment, by responsibilities, even by our loved ones. But deep down inside, the soul knows when it’s had enough. Only you know how much you can take, or how far you can go. After all, no one knows you better than you know yourself. Hence, why we conduct this interview. I will just quickly point out that there’s no point in denying the truth any longer because… well, I already know. I’m your case worker. I’m supposed to know. I’ve been there since you were born. See all these books around us? That’s your life. Well,’ he pointed to a bookshelf, ‘all except the last two shelves down there. That’s a new client.’ He shook his head. ‘Management are doing a bit of a reshuffle, which means we’re having to take on more responsibilities. And yet, they still expect us to perform at our peak levels. Anywho…’
Bernard started flipping past pages in the file. ‘You’ve had an interesting life. You’re physically active, you have a loving family and a wonderful girlfriend, you’re good at your job though you don’t like it very much, you get along with most people, you’re a model citizen…’
He quickly ran his finger down the page. ‘You’ve donated blood one… two…’ he flipped the page, ‘three… four times. Wow. Who would have thought you had that much in you?’ He chuckled. ‘Personally, I hate needles. Damn things give me the willies.’ He turned the page. ‘You play guitar, you’ve learned French and Italian; you’re never afraid to help a complete stranger; you prefer to choose pets from the pound – honestly, that really does warm my heart when you do that,’ he turned the page again. ‘You visit your grandmother once a week, you call your siblings on their birthdays, even when you were overseas. I mean…,’ Bernard leaned back in his chair. ‘You really are a good person, Will. And I’m actually really happy for you. You’ve achieved more in your short life than most people do in double the time. So no one would blame you if you wanted to pick up where you left off. But there are a few things that you still need to address.’
‘Like?’
My question was brief but I immediately regretted it the minute Bernard sighed, reached into his drawer and pulled out another file. This one was red.
‘You’ll only date blonds. You prefer… er… women of a certain… shall we say… shape?’
‘Hey, I’m allowed to like what I like. So sue me.’
‘Will, we’re all allowed our individual tastes. That’s what makes us… well, individuals. But you’re quite inflexible. Stubbornly so. And not just with women. Your taste in expensive cars has gotten you quite in debt; you’ll easily spend a hundred dollars a week on alcohol – I’m starting to feel sorry for all those poor blood donations. And let’s face it, once you’ve had a few in you, you do change quite dramatically. We all have skeletons, my boy. But it takes a strong person to keep those skeletons where they belong… in the closet. I’m not saying you shouldn’t open up every now and then. Get things off your chest. Share a piece of your soul with those closest to you. Make yourself vulnerable from time to time. It makes us grow and gives us perspective. But to get the most out of the experience, there really is a time and place. And I’m sorry, Will, but two o’clock in the morning in the middle of town, outside a nightclub is really not the place to explore your skeletons. Getting the balance right helps you vent. Not getting it right puts you into a deep depression. Which is my next point, and honestly, what we’re really discussing today.’
‘So you know about that?’ I asked, a little embarrassed.
‘Of course,’ Bernard replied. ‘It’s my job to know everything about you, both your physical actions and what’s in your head. Performing an action is one thing. But knowing why you did what you did helps us understand you better. Your inner thoughts, your intentions, and motivations get logged, and literally fill all my files. That’s why there are so many books; each volume represents a stage in your life. You might be evasive to others but my boy, I can read you quite literally as a book.’
I paused and looked around the office. I felt dumb. These were my inner thoughts. My dreams and fantasies. My… problems. What right did this guy have to invade—‘
‘I’m not invading your thoughts or your personal space.’
‘What the hell?’
‘Didn’t we just establish this? I can hear your thoughts, remember?’
‘Um, can you not? Look, what do you want with me?’
‘Oh, my boy. It’s not what I want. Look inside yourself. What do you really want? Do you want to go back to Earth? You did have a great life there. Ellie’s quite the catch; she’s funny, intelligent, sharp as a tack, and she puts up with you. And let’s face it, sometimes, you’re not the best company. How have you improved your resistance to commitment? You know she wants to get married eventually, don’t you? What about your work situation? You have a real passion for art and yet you sit in an office all day, every day, sorting through mail. It’s any wonder why you’re going mad. You’re too afraid to take a chance. Are you still afraid of heights? Hmm?’
I looked at him but didn’t answer. I knew what he was doing. He already knew the answer. He just wanted me to admit it, to make an arse of myself.
‘My boy, you don’t need me to make an arse of yourself. You’ve been procrastinating forever. You need this time to reflect.’
‘Hey, come on. Stay out of my head,’ I said, miffed.
‘Will, we both know that deep down inside, you don’t want to go back. A part of you wants to pack it in. And nothing is wrong with that. Life is hard. But remember, you’re doing this to yourself. You have so many rules, and such high expectations that it’s any wonder why you’re so unhappy. You need to relax, take a deep breath, and learn to go with the flow. Accept things as they are and I promise, you will be pleasantly surprised.’
‘If you know so much about me then why can’t I get out of my own head? Why can I be surrounded by people and yet feel so damn alone?’
‘Because you’re not being true to yourself.’
I looked at him confused. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re too concerned with being what everyone else wants you to be. But once you answer your own true calling, you’ll meet likeminded souls. And then you won’t be so alone.’
‘How do I find my true calling?’
‘That, my boy, is something that only you can answer.’
I rolled my eyes in frustration. I was no closer to discovering who I really was. ‘I just… I mean… I really want to go back. I already miss Mum & Dad, and Ellie, and Nan. But it’s just so tiring, you know?’
‘I do.’
‘It’s exhausting. I’m constantly fighting these thoughts; constantly at odds with myself. Nothing I do is ever good enough. You know, I do great things and people say to me, hey, that was great. You should be so excited! But I’m not. I never am. I just move on to the next big drama. I guess you know about the trip that Ellie was… is... organising?’
Bernard nodded and smiled warmly. ‘Oh yes. I know all about it. And I’m well aware of how stressful you’re finding it. You’ve tried to tell her about it; tried to explain yourself. But it’s what you’re not saying that’s doing you all the harm. You’re holding back; about how terrified you really are. I know that you’ve literally lost sleep over this; that you took a day off work to have a double session with your psychologist. I know that you’re afraid to tell Ellie the truth because deep down inside, you actually like her, and you don’t want to scare her off. You’ve even started letting yourself imagine a possible future with her, which I think scares you more than your phobia.’
‘Then how do I change? How do I stop living in fear? How do I show Ellie how much she means to me?’
‘Well, you can start by telling her. Will, everything you need is already in you. Acknowledging the problem is the first step. Only then can you begin to find a solution. But you’ve never let yourself even get that far. The world you live, and the one you perceive are two different things. Learn to let go and the world will open up.’
A long silence followed Bernard’s last words. He was right. I was doing this to myself. I guess I just didn’t want to admit it. But for the longest time, I felt so trapped. My life was so perfect and yet it wasn’t. Things would be going so right and yet I always felt that something was still wrong. That wasn’t living. That was compensating. That was why I regularly engaged in different lifestyle activities. I was just distracting myself. So if I went back now, how would I change things? How would I conquer myself? How could I turn all the negative crap around and make it work for me?
‘Well, actually,’ Bernard interjected, ‘that has somewhat been taken care of.’
I looked at him shocked. ‘Seriously! Stop doing that.’
‘Alright, alright.’
‘No, seriously. It’s creepy. I don’t listen to your thoughts.’
‘Alright. I get it. Stay out of the head. But you really should be aware that there is a complication.’
‘What complication?’ I asked. I was already in limbo. How much weirder could this get?
‘The accident you had was quite severe; the sort of ‘severe’ that takes years of physiotherapy.’
‘O…k,’ I replied, cautiously. ‘And?’
‘And… you’ll be paralysed.’
‘What?’ I blurted. ‘But… but… I can’t be. I mean… wait. Do you mean, like, ‘in a wheelchair’ paralysed?’
‘I’m afraid so. Not everyone survives a T-bone at full speed with a bus. Your doctors are hopeful but bless them, they won’t have any idea until you wake up, or, if you wake up. I guess that’s what we’re still trying to decide.’
‘So you’re saying that besides all the shit that I already have to go through, if I go back now, I’m gonna be stuck in a wheelchair?’
‘This isn’t a punishment, Will. No one is to blame. This is just the situation.’
‘Then what’s the point?’ I said, slouching in my chair. ‘My life is already challenging as it is—‘
‘And that’s where you’re wrong,’ Bernard said, leaning forward with vigour. ‘It doesn’t have to be challenging, Will, if you choose to perceive it differently. Great things will happen if you open your mind to new possibilities. Seek the help that you need. Don’t get discouraged when one fails. Just keep trying. If you do this, you’ll find what you’re looking for. Be inspiring. Be a beacon of strength. You don’t have to be the victim to your own abuse. Fight back and take control of your life.’
I shook my head and threw out my hands as if trying to slow the bombarding information. ‘Wait, wait. What you’re saying… it’s way harder than you’re making it sound. I’ve been going through this… crap… for years. It’s ingrained.’
‘No it’s not. That’s hogwash. Nothing is ingrained. If you believe that it’s hard, it will be. If you believe that you can surpass any obstacle, you will. Telling yourself that your issues are ingrained is merely admitting defeat. You’re just allowing yourself the excuse. Don’t take ‘no’ for an answer. Take control of your life. Make it what you want it to be—‘
‘Even if I’m in a wheelchair?’
‘Even if you’re in a wheelchair. You’re not the first person to be in one, and you won’t be the last. People make it work. And they don’t just get on with their lives, they become inspirational. You could be inspirational too. You just have to permit yourself that freedom.’
I went silent again. Bernard obviously knew what I was thinking because he too went silent. I stared out the window and my mind raced. Instinctively, maybe even subconsciously, I started wiggling my toes. He was right, though. My life was awesome. I just focused on the wrong things. I didn’t do it intentionally. But the mind gets carried away. It spirals out of control and before you know it, you’re having your second panic attack in a day, and you feel helpless and vulnerable, and stupid. You feel… just so… stupid. After a panic attack, when my mind starts calming back down like the Hulk changing back to Bruce Banner, I always reflect on my heightened behaviour and I get so embarrassed. That’s why it’s been so hard for me to commit to girlfriends, and I guess, why Ellie and I work so well together. No one I’ve ever dated has ever understood fully what it’s like. But she’s experienced all this before from her own perspective. So she immediately gets where I’m coming from, and especially how much I hate being around people when I go through these major mood swings.
I’d love to see her again. I miss her. I miss Mum and Dad, and Nan. Beautiful Nan. But I just don’t think I can keep doing this. Maybe it’s time to move on? See what’s on the other side? But… then what?
‘No, sorry, I can’t tell you. You have to decide on your own.’
‘Bernard! What did we agree?’
‘Yes, alright. Sorry. No more listening in on thoughts. But you still have to make the decision based on what you know. Moving on can only occur when the soul has made peace with their current life. You can only go into the next phase guilt free. This will be the most important decision you make. Hey, at least you get this second chance. Most people just cross over. Only a small percentage make it to the Waiting Room. Make the most of this opportunity. Change, Will. Learn what you need to, and make it right.’
I scratched my head. Going back now would be harder than it’s ever been. On the other hand, moving on now just sounds so easy. Just imagine not having any more pressure on my shoulders. The world really was a shitty, corporate driven, greedy place. Could someone like me even make an impact? How does someone improve their situation? And what if Ellie and I don’t work out? I’ve been dating idiots for years. She’s the first person to come along that even comes close to what I would consider wife material. So if we didn’t work out, will I have regrets on my decision? Will I even remember all this?
I looked at Bernard and waited.
He smiled. ‘No, you won’t remember any of this.’
I nodded and smiled back. So it really does come down to my decision in the here and now. It’s who I was versus who I want to be. Well… who I want to be… with a wheelchair. I’ll be in a wheelchair! I just couldn’t get used to the idea. I kept wiggling my toes. I just don’t know. I’m so, so tired.
‘Well, Will?’ Bernard said, in a soft gentle tone. ‘Have you made a decision?’
I didn’t answer but only managed a sigh. My mind couldn’t sit on an idea for more than a few seconds before racing off in the opposite direction.
‘Listen to your heart,’ Bernard said, with his usual impeccable timing.
I looked at him seriously, then nodded. ‘Ok,’ I muttered. ‘I’ve decided.’
‘Are you sure?’ Bernard asked, in a calm warm tone.
‘No, not really.’
‘I know it’s hard, my boy. But I need you to say it out loud. Will you move on or do you want to stay?’
I laced my fingers and stared at my feet…