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The first two weeks of the therapy were spent on recovering from the month in bed. My muscles had lost a lot of tone during that time, and I spent a lot of time with one exercise machine or another trying to put tone back into my muscles. This activity surprised the therapist, but she did follow orders, and my muscles were getting better as the days passed.
The third week was spent with those same exercises, but other exercises were introduced to duplicate the activities that I would be doing if and when my nerves reconnected. A new therapist was brought in for this work, and I was now trying to keep two therapists happy. That was more work than you might expect.
On the fourth week in rehab, they started giving me shots, little tiny injections, on my back around the knife wound. Wow, by the end of that week, I was starting to feel the needle! I was overjoyed at that and so were my parents, but the doctor acted as if it was what she expected. This doctor, Dr. Marie Anson, was sent in by the medical company to supervise the special treatment that I was getting. She was a very nice woman and told me about the experiments on the monkeys and chimps. She said that I seemed to be progressing faster than they did, but she could not really attach any importance to that this early in the treatment. I had to laugh to myself when she initially said “experiment,” but quickly changed that to “treatment.”
All along, I was still getting variations on that strange dream. The woman visited me every night, and by the end of the fifth week, I was starting to get glimpses of her face. She was very pleased at that and said, “Liz, I have not been deliberately hiding from you, but this is a conversation through a kind of mental telepathy, and you are finally progressing enough in your recovery that you can start to receive images as well as sound. The reason that you can see me is that I am sitting in front of a mirror so that my image is registering on my brain, and you are beginning to read my thoughts.”
We only talked a few minutes after that, and my dream ended for that night. Wow, was that real? Could I read her thoughts? Oh, I brushed it off—it was just a dream, but it was fun to think about. Of course, I never mentioned these dreams to anyone else, not even my parents. It might be enough to make them think that I was going crazy.
The odd thing was that I began to see the woman more and more clearly as the treatment and the dreams continued. After another week, the woman said, “Okay, Liz, you have progressed far enough that you are ready to start your training as a mind reader. Yes, this is ESP (Extra Sensory Perception) brought about by changes in your brain caused by the series of drugs that you are taking. After about a week of working with me, you should start to catch some thoughts from the people around you. I don’t know what your initial range will be, but it will not be very far. Later, as you apply yourself, your range with increase until you can read the mind of anyone anywhere on Earth. Now, this is how I want you to start...” No, I am not going to repeat her instructions here because I promised not to. The woman said that she would explain why later.
Anyway, Sue, that was the woman’s name, had me practice for an hour each night in trying to read her mind. She asked me not to try to find out where she was, but I would know soon, anyway. By the end of the second week of practice with Sue, I could see her clearly and anything else that she was looking at. By the way, Sue wore glasses, and the eye correction worked for me, too, because I was not actually using her eyes but was reading her mind after it had interpreted what she was looking at. It was amusing that she could read a book or a newspaper, and I could read it along with her.
Yes, I did eventually find out where she was. She was in a secret laboratory about 1,200 miles away from my rehab hospital. She was contacting me just with the strength of her mind, there was no machine involved. I thought that was very impressive. She did say that she worked for an organization, but she would not tell me any more about it. Sue had the ability to mask her mind so that I could not read any part of her mind that she wanted to exclude from me. “Liz, you will be able to do the same thing when you have progressed a little farther in your studies.” Well, that was comforting. I was sure one day to have my own secrets that I was not ready to share with the world.
We continued to work on my mind reading ability as the days sped past. Yes, things were going fast now that I had something really interesting to think about and to work on. I had progressed far enough that I could now contact Sue while I was awake. I worked those contacts and the practice sessions in between therapy sessions.
All of us were amazed at how fast I was regaining the use of my body. I could now talk normally because I could breathe on my own. Most of my automatic body functions were back in operation. I was delighted when I managed to swallow for the first time. It was only a sip of water, but it would have made no difference had it been the finest champagne.
I was making considerable progress toward walking. My therapists were convinced that I would progress as far as a walker to help me balance by the end of the week. With that, I could go almost anywhere I wished. I was still using a catheter because I tended to dump my bladder at its whim, not mine, but I was assured that even that embarrassment would be gone by the time I went home from rehab.
Whatever that drug cocktail they had been using on me had been, it had certainly worked a miracle. I was released from the rehab hospital exactly three months from the date of my stabbing, and I was too happy to contain myself. I used the walker, but I insisted on walking to the car to take me home. An attendant did walk behind me with a wheelchair in case I got too tired, but I made it all the way. My trip from my bed to the car was recorded on video tape by Bob, my younger brother, so that we could have concrete evidence to show any Doubting Thomas who questioned the results of my ordeal. I also have a framed still picture from that momentous trip that I keep on my desk to this day to remind me just how lucky I am.
Once home, I headed to my room and flopped down on my bed. I had thought that I was in good shape, but that trip was exhausting. Bob appointed himself as my special caregiver as he helped me up from the bed to get to the kitchen for lunch. As a special treat for finally getting home, Mom had fixed BLT (Bacon, Lettuce, and Tomato) sandwiches for lunch. It was late in the year for such good tomatoes, but she had managed to find them. Anyway, I pigged-out on three of the sandwiches. I didn’t know when a sandwich had tasted so good. The lemonade was great, too. I almost cried when Helen brought me ice cream for desert. I had not realized what a loving family I had. The only thing missing was Dad, but he would be home for supper.
The rest of the day went quietly as I rested and built up my resources. Late that afternoon, I tried contacting Sue, but she was nowhere to be found. I almost panicked until I remembered that she said that she was going to give me this day off as a reward for working so hard in rehab and in learning with her. The crazy thing was that I did not want a day off. I missed the mental exercises that she had me going through.
I found that I just could not relax completely, so I started going through the exercises that were supposed to make me more receptive to the world outside of my own head. After about 20 minutes, I started picking up stray thoughts from Mom. She was talking to a friend over the phone, and I began to pick up her side of the conversation. That was interesting, but a bit confusing because I could not hear the other side of the conversation. Then it dawned on me to read what her friend said as the sounds from the telephone were interpreted by Mom’s brain. Suddenly, I could hear both sides of the conversation, and they were talking about me.
Mom was the first voice. “I don’t know what has gotten into that girl. She seems even more alive and perky that she used to be.”
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