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afternoon of
August seventeenth? I realize that recalling such a memory is most
unpleasant; however, I need to begin there in order to assess your
injury.”
    He sets his large, immaculately clean black leather
doctor’s bag at the foot of my bed. I watch him straighten, and
there is a pleasant look on his clean-shaven face as he patiently
waits for my reply.
    Hesitantly, I begin, “I was quite reckless with the
stallion I was riding that day. I wanted to see what he was capable
of. You see, I’ve always been fascinated with speed and risk
taking, Dr. Harden. I know that it is likely difficult for you to
comprehend, but I love the feeling, the vibrating energy that being
that close to danger provides. To be honest, I should have
sustained multiple injuries already for all of the mischief I have
tangled myself up in throughout my childhood.”
    “I hope you don’t mind my saying this, Cosette, but
putting a young lady on an untamed racehorse is tantamount to
insanity. Your grandfather has explained to me the loss of your
mother to yellow fever when you were merely a newborn. He also
stated that your father will return any day now from his business
travels in London. I hope that we might be able to give him some
hopeful news. Why don’t we have a look at you to determine the
extent of the damage. May I lower the sheet?”
    “Yes. That is fine.”
    I watch as he gently lifts each of my limp arms and
pulls the starched white cotton down to my toes. I try to will
myself to feel the material slide across my thin nightgown,
but there is only the recollection of feeling, nothing more.
    “Tell me, Cosette. The moment you hit the ground
after falling off Scared Falls, did you feel anything?”
    “My head hurt badly. That was all.”
    “So it was then that you ceased to have sensation
below the neck?”
    “Yes, that is correct, Doctor.”
    “Very well. I would like to raise your gown, just to
the knees, and perform a little test on your legs—with your
permission.”
    “Certainly.”
    I watch him curiously as he pulls a small tapered
device from his bag that has a thin, pointed end.
    “I assure you that I will do nothing other than test
your reaction to stimulus in various places. I will draw no
blood.”
    “All right.”
    He touches the probe along my legs, then lower, to
each of my toes. I wonder silently if my reactions are at all what
he is looking for. I desperately want to pass the test. This man is
my only hope for recovery from this hell on earth.
    As if speaking to himself, he states softly, “I see
you have been well cared for since the accident. Your skin is still
in excellent condition. Your caregivers obviously shift and
reposition you regularly.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “All right, Cosette. I need to examine your upper
back and neck, as that is where the major damage was sustained.
Let’s rotate you over onto to your stomach.”
    I nod as he slowly turns me over. All I can feel is
my face brushing against the down pillow and the strands of my long
hair as it tangles with the turn.
    “Here, let’s shift your head so you can keep your
eyes on me. Excellent. Now, I need to lift your gown to your upper
back, is this acceptable?”
    Oh God! I dread having him look at my body,
but I would do anything to be cured.
    “Yes. That is fine.”
    “Very well.”
    With my head tilted I watch him lift the gossamer
cotton all the way up to my shoulders. From the position of his
body and arms I can see that he is doing something to my back, most
likely what was done to my legs earlier. Come on, feel
something!
    After a long moment he lowers the gown back in
place.
    “Let’s roll you back over then.”
    I try to read the emotions in his smooth voice but he
is completely calm—too calm.
    When I’m lying face up again he is all business,
placing an extra pillow behind my head as he sits down on the edge
of the bed.
    “Now, I would like to examine your neck.”
    “All right.”
    “I’m going to place my fingers at the