I asked her to marry me at 17. One month later, a speeding Lexus struck me off a skateboard outside my parents’ driveway in Columbus, Indiana. I woke up from a three-week coma not knowing who she was.
The author in a coma at IU Methodist Hospital in Indianapolis, with Chelsea at his bedside.
She had been there every day. That’s not a figure of speech. I mean literally.
The person I had just asked to spend her life with me stood at my bedside in the ICU at IU Methodist, and I looked at her the way you look at a stranger. She had to be introduced to me. We had been together for two years. She knew things about me I had lost. I had to be told her name.
Also Read: I Lost My Husband When I Was Just 35. He Left Me With An Inheritance I Had Never Imagined.…