RE Bunch

Claustrophobia: The fear of enclosed spaces

Claudia adjusted her cane on her side and continued to pick at her fingers in the waiting room of the doctor’s office. She sat crooked in the chair, shifting to relieve the pressure in her left leg. Her long nails found a rough patch on the side of her finger. Jingling her knee she worked her fingernail in deeper until she could pinch the loose piece of skin. As she pulled the strip of the flesh off, she winced and looked up. She sucked at the side of her newly bleeding finger as she read the sign for what felt like the millionth time, “Dr. Valdis Corpus, Rejuvenation Specialist”.

She loudly exhaled as she looked back to the clock in the corner. Her appointment was supposed to start in twenty minutes. The numbness in her left hip started to march down her leg and climb its way up her back. The tingling gnawed at her joints and made her eye water. The nerves in her leg, ate at her like fire ants night and day. It burned through her brain. It caused her leg to swell and wither without rhyme or reason. Claudia grabbed her purse and looked for her prescription. It had been four hours and thirty minutes since her last dose. The chalky white tablet bounced off her tongue and down her throat. It would take about fifteen minutes before she could feel the difference. Or, she suspected the pain was still there. It never went away. It was just not noticeable to her anymore.

When Claudia was twenty-one, she had been in a car accident. It was 2:00 am as she drove home from the pool hall. She had not been drinking that night but had left the bar with a headache anyway. Claudia’s friend Melany had left her earlier with a guy she met there. Claudia thought of Melany like her sister. Claudia wished she had a tenth of Melany’s charm. Melany was vibrant and outgoing, while Claudia was reserved and shy around new people. The two of them often went out together but did not always end the night as they had planned. Melany slurred a promise of returning in a little bit as she kissed Claudia on the cheek. Claudia rolled her eyes and waved her off. The minutes turned to hours as Claudia waited for her to return. When last call came, a guy walked up to the bar and puked on it. As Claudia sat at the stoplight a few miles away she tried to call Melany again. Straight to voicemail. She felt her face going bright crimson as she glowered at the red light. The intersection was silent and dark. She idled on the line, not finding any other headlights for miles.

“I fucking hate this.” She yelled at her reflection in the rearview mirror.  “Did you really think Melany was going to come back? This is just fucking stupid. Everyone there sucked and just, whatever. You do this every time to yourself. Every. Fucking. Time.”

As the light turned green in the corner of her eye, she slammed her foot onto the gas pedal. The noise that came to her next was deafening. Her airbag exploded into her face, shattering her nose into her skull. The flash of rocketing pain blinded her as her head ricocheted in the turning car.

She woke up three days later. Foggy but awake. Mercifully and miraculously is what she heard a lot in those days. The black car that hit her had no headlights on. There was no way she could have seen the car or stopped it from happening, she was told. Her car rolled four times before sliding on its roof into a field of soybeans. The black sedan’s front end was crumpled with the hood wrinkled like aluminum foil. It was found idling in the intersection abandoned. The person who hit her was nowhere to be found. She hung upside down trapped in the vehicle for two hours. A bartender from the poolhall had happened to come upon the wreckage and saw her twisted upside down.

“I wonder whatever happened to the driver?” She scrunched her nose and tried to breathe in the air. It smelled stale, like everything else. Something the doctors had not mentioned to her, is that her sense of taste was also affected by her weak sense of smell.

Her pelvis was cracked open. The sharp bones tore through the delicate organs that it once lovingly held in place. Her spine sprained and herniated its disks from the violent twisting and hanging of her torso. Her left femur snapped, beginning to sprout from her thigh. Her lower body was held together with metal plates, rods, and pins. Her face pumped with fillers and new plastics to reconstruct a similar look. The surgeries that it took to restore limited movement and a new likeness were more excruciating than the wreckage was. She struggled through rehabilitation from wheelchairs to walkers, to a cane. She learned to sit up straight, and to stretch often. Learning her new face was the hardest part for Claudia. It was like looking into an uncanny mirror. The new face was similar to her’s but warped in a way that her mind rejected immediately.

The doctors had done everything they could, and she was grateful for that. The burden of acceptance was pushed upon Claudia. She had to absorb the things they could not change. She was embittered towards them but could not find any other avenue for her grief. Claudia accepted the relief the doctors’ offered in pills to tolerate and numb her feelings.

During her recovery, she felt further and further removed from her old life. She never saw Melany again after that night. She did not blame her for the accident, but Melany never answered. Her friends and family became distant. After years of stagnant healing, she had relegated her last warm feelings for special occasions and went into urban seclusion. They were removed from her pain and healing. Satisfied by supporting her from afar. She moved away from her old life. Claudia needed to be closer to her appointments and pharmacies. She preferred to be removed from the busy streets below her apartment window. Claudia lived in a lingering haze of appointments and refills. The days bleeding into one another as the time marched relentlessly forward. A miasma narcotic numbness enveloped her life for nine years. On Thursday last week, she received the offer in the mail.

Claudia thumbed through the letters and ads. She received a twenty-five percent off coupon for a shoe store for her birthday. The information that today was her birthday deflected off her as she reviewed her medical bills, late utilities, and notice for rent. The money from her disability had not arrived yet.

“Well,” She puffed on a cigarette. She held the corner of the electric bill to the cherry of the cigarette. It curled and shrank away from the ember, but was not the satisfaction she was looking for. “It’ll still be late tomorrow.”

As she threw the rest of the unopened mail on to the kitchen table, a grey postcard caught her eye. It seemed almost too nice to have been intentionally sent to her. It nearly slipped into the mass of torn envelopes and wrinkled letters on the growing paper mountain; almost buried forever. The paper was  thick and heavy. The front of the card had a golden crescent moon that was cut by an arrowhead. Beneath the image was “From disaster, life begins again”. The smooth texture of the gold letters was complimented by the soft paper.

She turned over the card and read it several times. The words felt clunky as she tried to assemble the meaning behind them.

“Miss Claudia Beaumont,

“You have been referred to Dr. Valdis Corpus for an experimental treatment program for neuropathy and rejuvenation of tissues damaged by trauma and scarring. This treatment is non-invasive with minimal downtime. Call 917-***-**** to schedule your free consultation.”

“What? There is no way,” Claudia sputtered as she squashed her cigarette into a glass cereal bowl. “None. Non-invasively remove my entire left hip? Get fucking bent.”

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