Resurrection

The month after the Psilocybin, Methylphenidate was added to the Zolpidem and he made six hours awake. Then the six became six and a half and finally seven and it felt like he was living life again albeit with really long down times. He worked with a Psychologist and Speech Therapist named Karina Andersen and da Silva said she was considered something of a wunderkind and that she had asked to work on his case. She challenged him with physical and mental exercises and in a short period Mandy remarked that she thought that some of his brain fog was lifting but it was sadly obvious even to her that Michael wasn't as sharp as he had been before.

Bruno Rossi who was the Detective on his case came round to interview him. He said that the bullet fired at him had hit the doorframe splitting in two, the smaller piece had entered his head. It was.380 calibre weapon. It was lucky for him it wasn't a 9mm or a.45 round otherwise he wouldn't be here. Unfortunately both the local and the national database had no match to that bullet so no help there. Nor was Michael of much help as he had no memory of the event.

When his physio therapy had progressed enough for him to stand, he was introduced to Darius Green - ex army. He was to become his daily torturer for the next six months. Darius was tough and made it a point of projecting a persona and attitude he thought would suit the patient.

"Michael! Can I call you Michael?" He continued without waiting for a response. "I don't care Michael. You need to understand that and believe it. I don't care how you feel! I only care about results!" He looked down on him like he was a sergeant on the parade ground and Michael was a boot camp grunt.. "I have a lot of patients and you're just one in a list of many!" Another unrelenting stare. "You will push yourself harder than you thought possible and when you get there I will push you to go even further." He sat back with an air of finality. "I don't do quitters. If you don't like it ask for someone else!"

His brutal approach frightened but also challenged Michael who responded with. "I'll see you on the road for a half-marathon in six months!" And Darius roared with laughter.

Some six weeks later the combination of drugs were keeping him awake between six to eight hours when Mandy arrived with the North American CEO and long term colleague and friend: Robert Neuman. "Glad to see you alive and getting better Michael." His voice filled the small room like warm syrup. "Your job is still open and your team have done a great job on the Hexalidomine dossier and we're now only months away from submission."

The BioVest scientific team had been working on the clinical trials for Hexalidomine for some time. All double-blind and randomised, to prove efficacy and safety in humans vs. the current treatment protocols and it was looking good.

"Mandy's done an excellent job of compiling the dossier and preparing it for submission." He dropped his hand onto Mandys shoulder squeezing gently before running it down her back making her shiver.

Michael's eyes went wide and she noticed. She looked at Robert and with a hiss she swept his hand of her back. He ignored her action with practiced ease and planted his hand back on her shoulder patting it.

"Stop that!" She slapped it away.

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Chapter III: Reclaiming the Day

"Come on Michael! Give me three more! Two! One! Well done. Hydrate, we're done for the day." Darius ran a quick visual assessment of his patient. Michael was five foot eleven, one hundred and thirty one pounds. BMI of 16. That was underweight but re-building muscle was a long, drawn out and painful process. The patient had however shown an uncommon will to succeed and that was rare he thought. Especially In civilians.

For Michael the positives were that he was now able to stay awake for about eight to ten hours but when he got tired he crashed. He was partially deaf in his left ear and was fitted with one of the new almost invisible hearing aids. His right leg dragged and walking still required concentration as his sense of balance was somewhat shot (geddit ha, ha, he laughed at his own joke). His memory of the last three years or so was gone and unlikely to return but on the positive side, his speech therapist said he would probably sound almost normal in a year or so as he got his tongue under better control. For the time being however, he had a definite lisp and occasionally went into a stutter as his brain and tongue disconnected. He had also lost some of his sense of smell and taste which led to a loss of appetite and he had to force himself to eat at times.

The one constant in his life outside of the medical staff was Mandy. She visited him daily before and after work. On the weekends she aligned his waking time with her visits to maximise their time together. She spent time consulting initially with da Silva and after a while predominantly with Karina as the two of them navigated Michael's sometimes volatile emotional shifts and changes.

His long drawn out convalescence meant that Jason grabbed leave to come visit and it was both soulful and heartwarming for father and son to spend time together and enabled them to talk of the future. A future that a short while before was lost. It also gave friends and colleagues many opportunities to visit him. Initially, Michael exhibited an almost child-like excitement in seeing them but then as his thinking coalesced and he became more self-aware he started dreading the visits as they simply demonstrated that he had lost the ability to delve deep or jump from topic-to-topic, subject-to-subject with the alacrity and ease they displayed. He felt stupid and slow and beneath them. It led to depression but just when it seemed that his rehab had gone as far as it could, he hit a milestone that was unexpected and shocking to the medical team.

It was early morning when da Silva walked into the patients room on his early rounds only to find the bed empty. Looking around in confusion he saw Michael coming out of the bathroom. "How... When did you get up?" He asked.

"Now, I needed to pee."

Da Silva crashed down on the chair next to the bed. "But, we haven't given you your daily dose of Zolpidem!" He rubbed his eyes and looked at Michael in wonder. "You woke up on your own! This is unbelievable!" He thought about it for a second. "In fact it's unthinkable!"

And so it came to pass, that Michael Bates, here and forever after, known to the medical staff as Lazarus, was the first vegetative patient on Zolpidem to have eventually woken up on his own accord without further use of the drug. The simple explanation was that his brain had somehow reset itself, not to what it had been before the trauma but better than anyone could have hoped or believed possible.

The clinical study that was submitted and published in the NEJM caused a small academic furore in terms of the drug treatment used, especially the use of Psilocybin. It also attracted many detractors who claimed that the patient's vegetative state had been misdiagnosed. Others stated that considering the clinical results he would have achieved wakefulness eventually with or without intervention but regardless of the differing opinions the treatment regimen was now 'published' and the medical team became sought-after in local and international conferences and symposia where they presented the case to a rapidly growing group of interested disciples.

By then, Michael's in-hospital recuperation was over. His drug regimen had been reduced to life-long Lamotrigine to stop the epileptic fits, an SSRI to control a mild bi-polar condition known as cyclothymia that had developed or had become exacerbated due to the injury and long-term Concerta, to keep his mind active and focused. By then he was able to stay awake for about twelve to fourteen hours a day but invariably became mentally fatigued quickly and needed a two hour afternoon siesta if he was to make it past seven in the evening. He considered himself to be a mess but at least he was going home.

Jason called and wished him well and apologised for not being there at that time but the airline was short of pilots, rated for the aircraft they flew so he was busy non-stop within the regulated hours.

When Mandy took Michael home he was like a small boy bubbling with excitement. He explored the house, then the garden. He looked at photographs of their life together. When she called him for a light lunch, he thanked her repeatedly for all she had done for him. She smiled through the tears in her eyes and that set Michael off as well and they cried holding each other like survivors of a sinking ship floating in uncharted waters.

Despite their happiness and connection to each other, Mandy was secretly concerned about the future. Her husband was alive, brought back from the dead by an act of complete desperation from her and thereafter, despite the brain damage he had suffered, he had essentially become the architect of his own return to a new normality. But, she acknowledged to herself that it was hardly the normal she remembered. Gone was the man with the sure fire wit and the ability to enthral a whole room with his brilliant mind. Also gone was his incredible self-belief that often bordered on arrogance. In its place Michael's sense of love and loyalty for her had evolved (or devolved according to the private thoughts of Karina Andersen) into something akin to a religious devotion. It was as-if she was his goddess who had brought him back from the dead through her divine intervention. It manifested in his need to do everything for her. Every morning he made her breakfast and prepared her a home-packed lunch before she left for work. It was almost like he was presenting her with a ritualised offering every day.

When she came home he rubbed her back, shoulders and on a few occasions even gave her a foot massage, something he had never done before.

Sometimes she would return from work to find him sitting contentedly on the wooden bench on their front porch waiting for her to come home. It gladdened and saddened her simultaneously and kept her worried about his long term prospects. The only part she wasn't worried about at present was their financial future because BioVest had injury and disability insurance that had paid out close to five hundred thousand dollars, over and above paying all medical and rehabilitation costs not covered by their health provider.

In the evenings they invariably cooked together. He'd have the radio on and together, they cut, chopped, pealed, trimmed, spiced, rubbed, prepared, roasted, fried, grilled, boiled and did everything that constitutes cooking. Usually Mandy would have a glass of wine in her hand while he had a Ginger Ale as it was a long dry season for him as per doctor's orders.

He currently slept alone in the guest room because his sleep was punctuated with violent jerks kicks, spasms and thrashings making it dangerous to be his bed mate. The spare room was set up with an oxygen bottle, ECG machine, oxygen saturation monitor all connected to an alarm, in case he somehow lapsed back into a catatonic state.

"Dance with me." he urged her and held her close while they made small slow circles around the kitchen to Nina Simone playing on the radio. The smell of cannelloni in the oven mingled with the left-over smell of her perfume and a hint of her natural odour teasing his nose and his senses. She kissed him softly and he returned it with fervour.

"I think you're getting your mojo back." She smiled and they kissed again.

He felt the stirrings of something down below but was instantly embarrassed by his semi-erection. It seemed not too long ago when he'd be hard as a rock and ready to plunder her willing flesh but not now. He had tried to masturbate himself to see if he could get hard and reach orgasm but couldn't get much beyond a lazy half-mast that was a little better than flaccid yet nowhere near erect. Still, it wasn't like she was pushing him for sex.

He suspected that his ED was a side effect from the SSRI's and possibly even from the anti-epileptic but there wasn't much he could do about it while he maintained his treatment regimen and more importantly, Mandy kept reminding him that he was ALIVE. But, eventually it wasn't enough.

Karina, and Carlos (by now, they were all on first name terms) both counselled patience. "It's too soon to start messing with your med's Michael."

"I want to be a complete man for Mandy! For myself! I can't carry on as half a man any longer!"

"It's too soon Michael. Let's give it another three months and re-evaluate then." They tried to appease him but in reality, he had already made up his mind, so the next day he stopped the SSRI's deciding to rather live with a mild bi-polar state which was preferable to his inability to achieve an erection.

He didn't notice any change over the first four days but on the fifth he awoke aware that he had been dreaming. He tried to recollect the dream: Unknown figures had chased him down a busy street. People stopped and stared but no-one intervened. Suddenly it was Mandy who caught up with him. "Go back Mike." and she turned and walked away together with a shadowy figure that reminded him of Robert while he discovered that he was standing naked in the middle of the street. It left him shaken for two reasons. Firstly, it was the first time he remembered having a dream since his 'awakening'. Secondly he was aware that there was something trying to surface, running circles just beneath his consciousness frustrating his efforts to bring it to the surface.

Having quit the SSRI's, altered his sleep patterns and he woke-up that night realising that Mandy had come into his bedroom to check on him. He was elated that he had woken up (another first). He was about to call out to her but she had already turned to leave the room while talking on her phone and something in her voice made him hold back.

"That was then, this is now." -- "Well I do miss it." -- I miss you too but I can't." -- "Because Michael needs me that's why!" - "I, I can't." -- "I won't. Not now!" -- "Well yes, It's been a long time." -- "Don't ask me that." She gave a small sob.

"No Michael needs me." -- "Yes I remember." She was becoming irritated. "It hasn't been easy for me either." By then she had moved to the main bedroom's on-suite bathroom and he couldn't hear her any more but he had heard enough to trigger a suppressed memory from the first days of waking from his vegetative state when Robert came to visit. He had put his hand on Mandy's back and ran it down her spine. She had brushed it off but not because it was unwelcome or even unexpected but because she was embarrassed by his behaviour in front of her husband. He lay in bed awake for some time before sleep overtook him once more.

"You're looking pensive this morning." She said, as they sat down to breakfast

"I have a lot to think about." He replied non-committedly.

"Is it about the half Marathon this weekend?" Her eyes sparkled and it made him want to lash out at her. How was she able to be so two faced? Or, was she? Was he simply paranoid? Was it his damaged brain unable to process what he had heard correctly? He managed to suppress the urge to blurt something out as he realised that first he needed to take control of his life before any confrontations.

"I promised Darius I'd give him a run for his money this weekend and I only hope I can finish never mind keep up with him." He turned away and trundled up the stairs in his peculiar climbing gait necessitated by his lazy foot.

She finished her coffee deep in thought and left for work with a sense of foreboding. Her instincts warned her that he was distant and that the love, no, not just love, the almost worship that he had lavished upon her over the past months hadn't simply dissipated, it seemed that it had completely disappeared overnight. She wondered what could have brought it on and remembered her phone conversation the night before. Could he have heard her. It seemed unlikely as it had been waaay, past his waking hours. But still...

Inside the house Michael was on a mission. He went through the home laptop -- nothing. Home landline, also nothing. He went to what used to be their bedroom - nothing. He went through her walk-in wardrobe and initially found nothing there either, but, going through her drawers, brought about some disquieting discoveries. The first were three pairs of expensive undergarments made up of matching bras and thongs that surprised, in fact almost shocked him. He racked his brain but he had never seen his wife wearing something like that although she was well put together and looked younger than her age making her an attractive package. But, she had never been overtly sexy and her undergarments had up to now, or at least from what he remembered, reflected her conservative and functional personality. He cursed himself and what he sometimes angrily referred to as his Swiss-cheese brain because it was full of holes.

The second discovery was a pack of condoms. He had gone for the snip a long time ago, because she reacted badly to the contraceptive pill so there was no need for condoms. He tried to consider his discoveries rationally. Perhaps during the missing years they had tried sexier underwear to spice up their sex life, which if he dared to admit it, had been mostly mundane and at times even un-inspiring. But that didn't explain the condoms. Well, he thought with a sinking feeling in his stomach, there probably was a number of reasonably rational explanations but he couldn't think of any.

He spotted her well used document bag often referred to as a Pilot's bag and looked inside. It was mostly empty except for some inconsequential sheets of paper, some irrelevant office correspondence and an empty manila envelope with her name on it from a lawyer. He opened it on a whim. Stuck to the inside almost unseen was a torn piece of printed paper that read: Dissolution of Marriage... The rest was missing.

His head was spinning and he backed against the wall and slid down almost paralysed by the numbing sensation washing over him like a wave. His whole body felt boneless unable to support his weight and yet his muscles felt inflamed and he wanted to hurt something or someone. That someone had a name. She was called Mandy. But he also knew that he couldn't confront her. At least not yet!

He wondered whether he should call Jason but after some consideration even his somewhat obtuse thinking suggested that it would either place Jason in a situation where he would be forced to lie or take sides in what would quickly become a zero-sum game with no winners. He figured it out slowly in the end and decided to go it alone.

So there it was. A secret lurking just beneath the surface like an iceberg and the next few days were spent in an uneasy peace like the beginnings of a cold-war or the quiet before the storm.

Mandy unsure of his frame-of-mind tried her best to get him to open up on what was bothering him, hoping against hope that it was something small and manageable, but he deflected all her attempts. She was astute and familiar enough with his new persona by now to realise that his anger and resentment was aimed at her. Packing away laundry on Saturday morning she discovered that someone had gone through her lingerie draw and had uncovered her expensive bras and thongs as well as the condoms underneath. She froze as the implications hit home.

She considered her options: Ignore; confront; deflect. This was going to be tricky, but before she had a chance to decide on a course of action Darius was there to pick up Michael and they left for the Maggi Dally Park to collect their entry numbers for the next day. Later he called to inform her that he and Darius and he would be carbo-loading on pasta at an Italian restaurant. She made herself a sandwich and tried unsuccessfully to watch some TV. They were back at seven thirty and Darius came in for a short while to say hello. Then he and Michael made final arrangements for the next day.