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MidReal Story
Broken Wings
Scenario:Lauren is a quadriplegic woman paralyzed from the chin down on a ventilator. Her head laid on a tilted headrest because of her scoliosis. I knew her since she was 10, and after the accident at age 20, I remained one of her few and best friends. I took care of her daily needs, and at some point, I fell in love with her, despite her disability. She could only speak in short, raspy sentences, and was completely helpless. But I saw beyond her disability.
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Ethan
He is a dedicated caregiver for Lauren, a close friend since childhood. He is compassionate, patient, and loyal. Ethan took over caring for Lauren after her accident, becoming her primary support. He managed her daily needs, such as feeding and turning her in bed. Despite her limited speech, he understands her needs intuitively. Their friendship deepens over time, and Ethan struggles with his growing romantic feelings for Lauren. He finds ways to make her smile and prioritizes her happiness.
Camille
She is a physical therapist who occasionally visits Lauren. She is professional, friendly, and optimistic. Camille helps Lauren with exercises aimed at maintaining mobility in her shoulders and neck. Her interactions with Lauren are professional yet warm, making Lauren more comfortable with each visit. Though not a significant figure in the narrative, she plays a supportive role in Lauren's care routine.
Dr. Lee
He is Lauren's attending physician overseeing her medical needs. He is understanding, supportive, and pragmatic. He monitors Lauren's health closely, ensuring she receives the necessary treatment and equipment for comfort and quality of life. His relationship with Lauren is built on mutual respect and a focus on her wellbeing, making him a reliable ally in her care journey.
I stared down at Lauren, her head resting upon the tilted headrest of her wheelchair.
Her chin touched the top of her head and turned slightly to the left, thanks to the scoliosis that twisted her spine into an almost question mark shape.
Her beautiful face was tilted back, her neck exposed, and I could see the tracheostomy tube sticking out of her neck just below her larynx.
The ventilator attached to it hissed air in and out of her lungs.
Lauren was completely quadriplegic, paralyzed from the chin down, unable to move anything but her head slightly, and that was limited.
She had been this way since she was twenty, two years after the car accident broke her neck.
I had known her since she was ten, and I had become one of her closest friends.
After the accident, I took over caring for her along with her parents.
It was easier for me than for them, and they were grateful for my help.
Over time, I came to realize that my feelings for Lauren went far beyond friendship.
I fell in love with her.
I know it sounds strange and even wrong to some people.
How could someone fall in love with a woman who was totally helpless, reliant on others for every single thing, from feeding to changing her underwear?
From using the bathroom to brushing her teeth?
But there was something about Lauren that went deep.
She was sweet and intelligent and witty.
I sat down in the chair beside her, listening to the ventilator.
In, out, in, out.
The hiss of air was almost soothing, and I found myself breathing along with the rhythm.
Lauren’s chest rose and fell beneath her light cotton blouse as the machine forced air in and out of her lungs.
Her eyelashes fluttered as she blinked.
The sun streamed in through the window, catching them and making them look like tiny wings.
As I listened to the ventilator, my heartbeat began to slow to match its rhythm.
In, out, in, out.
Lauren turned her head slightly toward me, her eyes meeting mine.
She tried to smile, but it was difficult for her as her head was heavily tilted back into the headrest.
Her eyes widened as I leaned forward, my heart pounding against my ribs.
In, out, in, out.
I reached for her hand and took it in mine, though I knew she couldn’t feel my touch.
"Lauren," I whispered, my voice trembling.
"I need to tell you something."
She watched me intently, her head tilted against the headrest.
In, out, in, out.
The words tumbled out of my mouth.
"I’ve fallen in love with you."
Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
She tried to speak but could only manage a raspy "Why?"
I reached up and stroked her cheek carefully so as not to disturb her trach tube.
"Because you’re you," I said softly.
Her eyes filled with tears, and she blinked them away quickly.
"But... I cannot give you... what you... want," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
I shook my head, squeezing her hand gently.
"I don’t need anything more than what you can give me," I said, my voice filled with conviction.
"You’re already so much to me."
Lauren’s eyes searched mine, looking for answers.
I could see the doubt in them, and I knew I had to make her understand.
I pulled my chair closer to her bedside, our faces only inches apart.
Her eyes followed my movement, questioning.
I reached for a tissue on the bedside table and gently dabbed at the tears streaming down her cheeks.
I was careful not to touch the trach tube, knowing how sensitive it was.
"Remember when you helped me pass chemistry in high school?" I asked softly, watching her eyes light up at the memory.
"Or how you always know exactly when I’m having a bad day?"
A small smile tugged at the corners of her lips.
"Or how you always make me laugh with your silly jokes?" Her smile grew wider, and I could see the tension in her body ease slightly.
The ventilator continued its steady rhythm, filling the room with its soothing hum.
In, out, in, out.
I took a deep breath and continued listing all the reasons why she meant so much to me.
How she was always there for me, no matter what.
How her kindness and compassion inspired me to be a better person.
How her intelligence and wit made me feel like I could conquer anything. Lauren listened intently, her eyes never leaving mine.
As I spoke, I could see the doubt in her eyes slowly fade away, replaced by something softer and warmer.
When I finally finished speaking, she turned her head slightly toward me, her eyes shining with unshed tears.
"Do you really mean it?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
I nodded, my heart pounding in my chest.
"Yes, Lauren," I said, my voice filled with conviction.
"I love you."
Lauren’s eyes searched mine, looking for any sign of insincerity.
But all she saw was genuine affection and adoration.
She blinked slowly, her eyelashes fluttering like tiny wings.
"Ethan... love... me?" she whispered, her voice strained but clear.
I nodded again, squeezing her hand gently.
"Yes, Lauren. I love you."
She remained still for a moment, unable to move at all.
But her eyes spoke volumes.
They shone with a mix of surprise and gratitude and something else—something that looked almost like love.
I continued to hold her hand, watching her closely.
The ventilator hummed along beside us, its steady rhythm a reminder of the fragility of life.
And yet, in that moment, it felt like nothing else mattered but the two of us. Lauren blinked again, her eyelids fluttering slowly.
"Thank... you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
I smiled softly, feeling a sense of relief wash over me.
I leaned forward and gently kissed her forehead, my lips brushing against her skin with tenderness.
"I love you," I whispered against her skin.
"I always will."
I sat back in my chair, watching her.
Her eyes were still wide with surprise, but they were also filled with a newfound warmth.
I held her hand gently, feeling the softness of her skin against mine.
The ventilator continued its steady rhythm, a reminder of the fragility of life.
But in that moment, it felt like nothing else mattered but the two of us.
Lauren’s fingers were completely still in my hand, a reminder that she was paralyzed from the chin down.
I squeezed her hand softly, knowing that she couldn’t feel it.
"I’ve been in love with you for a long time," I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Watching you every day, seeing your smile and your laughter... it just grew and grew."
Lauren’s eyes followed me as I stood up and moved to adjust the ventilator.
I made sure that it was at the right setting, that she was comfortable and breathing easily.
When I was satisfied, I turned back to her and sat down again. "I know that we can’t be together like other couples," I said softly.
"But I don’t care about any of that. All I care about is being with you."
Lauren blinked slowly again, her eyelids fluttering like tiny wings.
She couldn’t speak, but I knew that she understood me.
I leaned forward and kissed her forehead again, feeling a sense of peace wash over me.
"I’ll always be here for you," I whispered softly.
"Forever and always."
Lauren blinked once more, her eyes shining with tears.
She couldn’t move or speak, but I knew that she understood me.
Lauren’s eyes focused intently on me as I sat back down beside her.
She blinked slowly, her eyelashes fluttering like tiny wings.
I held her hand gently, feeling the warmth of her skin against mine.
The ventilator continued its steady rhythm, filling the room with its soothing hum.
Lauren’s lips moved slightly, forming words that I couldn’t quite hear.
I leaned closer, my ear inches from her mouth.
"I... love... you," she whispered, her voice strained but clear through the tracheostomy tube.
Tears filled my eyes at the sound of her voice, and I quickly wiped them away.
I smiled softly at her, nodding my head in understanding.
"I love you too," I whispered back, squeezing her hand gently.
Lauren's eyes glistened with a new determination, and she whispered, "Then... let's make... every moment... count."
I nodded, feeling a surge of hope.
"Together," I promised, my voice steady and full of resolve.
I reached for the ventilator cord and carefully disconnected it from her trach tube.
Lauren’s body remained still, her chest no longer rising and falling with the machine’s rhythm.
I watched her oxygen levels on the monitor, waiting for them to drop low enough to warrant suctioning.
As the numbers ticked down, I reached for the suction tube and carefully inserted it into her trach tube.
The machine whirred to life, pulling out the secretions that had accumulated in her lungs.
Lauren’s eyes followed my movements, watching as I worked.
I cleaned around the plastic tube, making sure it was free of any debris.
When I was finished, I reconnected the ventilator cord and turned on the machine once again.
Lauren coughed weakly as the air rushed back into her lungs.
Her body shook slightly with the effort, but she couldn’t clear her airway on her own. I reached for a tissue and gently wiped at her mouth, removing any excess mucus that had accumulated there.
Lauren’s eyes closed briefly as she relaxed against the headrest.
I adjusted her head slightly, positioning it more comfortably on the pillow.
As I pulled away, Lauren’s eyes opened once again, following me as I moved back to my chair.
She watched me intently, her gaze filled with trust and affection.
Despite the medical equipment surrounding us, despite the fragility of her body, Lauren’s eyes shone brightly with a deep connection between us.
I leaned forward and kissed her forehead softly, feeling a sense of peace wash over me.
"Thank you," she whispered through labored breaths.
I smiled softly at her, adjusting the blanket that covered her legs.
"You don't have to thank me," I replied, my voice gentle.
Lauren's eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief as she whispered, "For loving me... even when it's hard."
I chuckled softly, brushing a stray hair from her forehead. "Loving you is the easiest thing I've ever done."
Lauren’s eyes flickered towards the window, watching as a young couple walked hand in hand down the street.
They were laughing and smiling, completely absorbed in each other’s company.
Lauren’s expression darkened slightly as she watched them, her eyes following their every move.
She turned away from the window, her gaze drifting back to me.
I noticed a hint of sadness in her eyes, and I leaned forward to ask what was wrong.
Lauren tried to speak, but all that came out was a soft rasp through her trach tube.
She tried again, her voice barely audible over the steady hum of the ventilator.
"Other women... can touch you," she managed, her words strained but clear.
"I'm just... a burden."
Her eyes welled up with tears as she continued, "Like... a child."
I moved closer to her, gently turning her head so that she faced me.
"You're everything to me," I whispered softly, wiping away the tears that streamed down her cheeks with my thumb. Lauren tried to shake her head, but her neck muscles strained against the movement.
I held her gaze steady, refusing to let her look away.
"You light up my world in ways you can't imagine," I said softly, my voice filled with conviction.
"Just seeing your smile on my darkest days makes everything worth it."
Lauren's eyes searched mine, looking for answers.
Her eyes softened, and in that moment, I knew she finally believed me.
I sat beside her bed, watching as her chest rose and fell with each mechanical breath from the ventilator.
I pushed Lauren’s bulky wheelchair through the park, her eyes watching the world go by.
The sun cast a warm glow over the lush green grass and vibrant flowers.
Children laughed and played in the distance, their carefree voices carrying on the breeze.
Lauren’s gaze occasionally followed them, a hint of longing in her eyes.
I continued pushing her chair along the winding path, my arms straining slightly against the weight of her equipment.
We reached a quiet bench, and I carefully maneuvered her chair to a stop in front of it.
Lauren watched as I transferred her from the chair to the bench, her body limp but her eyes alert.
I pushed the wheelchair to the side, intending to sit on the bench beside her.
As I reached for her hand to help her shift, she shook her head slightly.
I noticed the strain in her neck as she tried to move her head.
Her eyes met mine, filled with frustration and a hint of sadness.
I gently held her hand, my voice soft and reassuring.
"You can’t shake your head, Lauren. Remember, you can’t move your head because of your condition."
Lauren blinked slowly, her eyelashes fluttering like tiny wings.
Tears welled up in her eyes, and she whispered, "I know, but I wish I could."
I sat beside her on the bench, my arm around her shoulders.
The only sound was the steady hum of the ventilator and the distant chirping of birds.
Lauren looked at me, her eyes filled with a mix of sadness and resolve.
"I... want... to... try," she whispered, each word a struggle through her trach tube.
I nodded, understanding her desire to communicate more than just simple words.
I adjusted the headrest behind her, making sure she was comfortable.
Then I handed her the communication board, watching as she pointed to the letters with a shaky finger.
She formed short, clipped sentences, each one a testament to her determination.
"I... love... you," she spelled out slowly.
Her eyes met mine, and I knew we were ready to face whatever came next.
