01 Feb I saw something impossible last night
My son was 17 years old when it happened 3 years ago. I don’t want to get into the specifics of the causes and such, other than to say that it wasn’t my son’s fault and was a result of carelessness from the other driver. Instead, I need to focus on what the accident did to my son. The crippling, horrid, long term effects of what happened that day.
He was alone in his car when it occurred thankfully, but he suffered 22 fractured/broken bones. Major spinal damage. Devastating head trauma. We didn’t know for sure till weeks after the accident (and after dozens of surgeries) that he was paralyzed from the neck down. When he woke from his coma after 3 weeks, it was clear that he wasn’t really “awake” at all. And he never again would be. He had suffered severe brain damage.
He was a broken, paralyzed, vegetative shell of a human being. I had lost my son. He would never come back to me.
And I would have to take care of him.
I had help. We received a large settlement from those responsible for the accident. This was used to get all the proper equipment set up for my son in his bedroom. I insisted on this. Whatever was left of him, even if just a small trace, would be comforted by being in his bedroom. I’m certain of it. I paid for a nurse to visit twice a day to run tests and help out with some tasks. Which was invaluable. There were a lot of tasks that needed to be done.
Changing his diapers and cleaning him numerous times a day. Trying to get him to eat. Cleaning up the mess of him spitting the food all over his bedroom. Giving him his numerous medicines and injections. Clipping his fingernails. Brushing what’s left of his teeth. Cutting his hair. And on and we go. It’s like taking care of a baby. A broken damaged baby that will never ever be able to take of itself.
The nurse used to help me from time to time move him from his bed to a sort of wheel chair. We’d strap him in and push him around the neighborhood. But we stopped doing that months ago. It was too much work for the almost complete lack of enjoyment he got from it. He would just stare blankly at nothing with that emptiness in his eyes, the same way he would lie in his bedroom. Other than blinking and sometimes moaning, I’ve never really seen him move an inch. He’s completely unresponsive to any external stimuli. You can shout his name, flash lights, play loud music… all nothing. Not even the slightest hint of a response. For three straight years.
I know what some of you are likely thinking. Just pull the plug. Am I right? Well… I think about it every day. I really really do. But after last night, now more than ever. Or maybe less than ever. I don’t know. I’m lost. I really just don’t know.
I think I need to get to it now. Why I’m writing this. I need to explain what happened last night.
It was around 2 am when I woke up startled. I was certain that it was a noise from downstairs that woke me up, but I couldn’t recall what it was. I lay in bed, silent, and I listened intently. But I didn’t hear any other noises. I thought it was maybe just my imagination, but while I was awake I may as well check on my son.
I remember walking down the stairs in the dark and standing outside of his bedroom door. It seems as though it was in slow motion when I think back to it. As though time froze.
I remember stepping in and being immediately confused by what I saw. It was impossible. My brain took a full 10 seconds to even process what I saw.
My son was standing and looking outside the bedroom window. He was standing. Standing. And the blinds were pulled up, which he would have had to have done himself. They hadn’t been pulled up like that in weeks. And while my brain was trying to figure this out, I’m certain I saw the shadow of something moving outside of the window.
I was trying to make sense of it. How was this in any way possible? Was it some sort of miracle recovery?
But that’s when my son quickly… very quickly… turned around and looked at me. I wasn’t ready for it. And his eyes… they were aware. And they were not my son’s eyes. It was his body, but those soulless eyes looking back at me were not my sons.
And then he took one quick step towards me.
That’s when I lost it. It’s when the enormity of the situation finally hit me. How impossible and supernatural this was. I began to scream. Loudly and piercingly.
I slammed the door shut and ran back upstairs to my bedroom. I spent the rest of the night cowering in my room and listening for more sounds from downstairs. I didn’t hear anything at all.
When the sun came up this morning I finally had the courage to return downstairs to his bedroom. It took a bit of time to talk myself into it, but I eventually opened his door and looked in. He was lying in his bed again, as though nothing had happened. His eyes were empty again. He was back to his unresponsive self. For a moment I thought that maybe I just dreamed all of this, or my mind played tricks on me… but then I noticed that the blinds were still pulled up.
No, it really did happen. My son stood up last night and looked out the window. And something was out there. My son was aware. He was somebody else.
There’s so much that has left me confused about this.
The first is that it’s impossible for him to stand up in the first place. Many of his bones that broke were never fully healed. His bones literally wouldn’t support his weight. Also, in three years I’ve never once seen him move in the slightest below the neck. Even if he did have some sort of miracle recovery, he wouldn’t be able to control his lower body without years of rehabilitation.
And what about the awareness in his eyes? The ability for him to actually understand how to pull the blinds up? Has he spent three years pretending to be severely brain damaged? How? Who would do that? How would he trick all those doctors? And what was he looking at outside of the window? How does that relate to it al?
Maybe some of you think that I should be happy. Regardless of the spookiness, this is a positive in regards to his recovery, right?
But no, I’m not happy. Those eyes looking back at me… they scared me. More than a little. Whoever that was looking back at me… I don’t ever want to see again.
So what do I do? Have any of you ever heard of anything like this? I can’t just call the hospital or tell the nurse. They will think I’ve gone mad.
Please submit advice below. I’m more scared than I’ve ever been, and I simply have no idea how to proceed.