can't breathe. Then they suck the salt water out and put the tubes back in my mouth and I can breathe again.
Mom says that they're going to do surgery on my hands and that I'm lucky to have such a good doctor. He'll use my skin to fix my hands up, the skin from my stomach will be on my hands. They have to fix my hands because my hands are so important, but my back is what hurts. Can they fix my back too?
Doctors and nurses come to move me. Mom and Dad wave and all the beeping machines are following me down the hall and I can see different lights now. This must be surgery. I'll have new hands. Then maybe I can go home soon.
My throat hurts. I'm back in the room with the balloons and Mom and Dad and my new hands. Is everything okay, Mom? Is everything okay, Dad? I try to say it with my mouth, but I've still got the breathing tubes in, so I say it with my eyes. “Everything's okay, honey,” says my mom. She heard me.
There are lots of cards and pictures in my room, lots from people I don't know. Pictures of girls with teddy bears and pictures of Florida. Every day there are more cards and pictures. Mom and Dad like to show me all the pictures and tell me about how everybody cares about me.
Mom says Maggie is too sick to have surgery. Maggie and I are the same because we both got hurt the same day and
we have the same problems, but I'm doing a little better. That's good. I'm winning.
More tearing.
The woman with black curly hair is Tina. She's a nurse. I've never met anyone who's so beautiful and kind. She likes me. I like her. I know by the way we smile at each other.
They get the message board so I can ask a question and I ask about basketball. It's easier now to remember what I'm trying to say, and they are better about guessing what I want to know. They say they'll tape the All-Star Game for me so I can watch it. Someday soon, they'll take the tubes out and let me breathe on my own. Then I can have ice and juice and waffles.
Barbara with the red hair, different than Barbara with the blond hair and the other one they call Barb. Kerry, the young one. Lisa, the night nurse. Janice, like a model. Calvin, funny guy. Amy, Calvin's girlfriend. Reggie, tall guy.
Every day they give me morphine and something they call a Mickey, and then I fall asleep. I wake up when they're cleaning my legs. They always start at the legs. They clean each part three times. And it hurts so bad, but they keep cleaning and cleaning, all the way up my legs, and my arms, and my chest, but they don't touch my face, they say my face isn't bad. They turn me over and start cleaning my back. That hurts the worst. When they're done, they change the sheets and turn me over again.
Mom says they're going to take some of my skin and fly it to Boston to grow in a lab, like the Six Million Dollar Man, and then fly it back and put it on me. She's really happy about that because I don't have enough skin to cover my body. She says they want to cover my body with dead people skin and skin from pigs while I wait for the Boston skin. I don't want the dead people on me.
Mom says Maggie is going to get off the respirator soon. I want to get off the respirator. I'm going to try and get off the respirator.
They take the tubes out and I'm breathing on my own and I can tell Dad is really happy. He keeps telling me that if I can keep the tubes out, I can eat and drink and go home sooner. I try to eat waffles, but it's hard to swallow and it's hard to breathe. It's so hard to breathe. Dad says I have to keep my oxygen saturation up to ninety-eight or ninety-nine, and
he shows me the machine that has that number on it. He says if I breathe deeply, then the numbers will stay up and they won't put the tubes back in. But it's so hard to