As I was being wheeled into the hospital after the accident, I apparently signed the paperwork for the experimental procedure. At least, I think I did. I barely remember it. I felt like there were so many people around me doing all they could to save my life that if one person threw a paper in front of me to sign, I probably managed to do it despite my injuries. They told me I fell into a months long coma after that night. That made it easier to transplant my brain into the new body. I remained in a comatose state for a few more months after that. To some extent, they expected that, but I was apparently out for longer than the doctors anticipated.
When my eyes fluttered (and I do mean fluttered) open that day, the nurse was actually surprised. They had chalked up the operation as a failure by that point. The ones who had their brains transplanted before me still hadn’t woken up.
I remember being thirsty. I remember wondering where I was with only fragments of the accident still in my mind. It wasn’t until the doctors began to ask me questions that I even noticed my new body -- and my new gender. My movements were more like a toddler as I tried to move my fingers. I surely could grasp anything and lifting myself up with the aid of the adjustable bed was impossible. My speech was slurred as I answered their questions. I wasn’t sure how much of this was due to the coma, but the doctors seemed to indicate much of it was due to the brain transplant -- that my mind was learning many motor controls like a baby might. They told me it would be a while before I could feed myself or stand up on my own. I’d be in the hospital for quite a while longer.
No comments:
Post a Comment