After the Pool

Week 1:
Renee spends all of her time in her room, pacing. I can hear her late at night whenever she steps on the squeaky floorboards. I went up to confront her about it one night; her eyes were haunted and she told me she couldn't sleep. "I can't." At least, I assume she was talking about sleeping. There wasn't much context. Perhaps she's having nightmares? I've invited her to come into my room whenever she wants if it'll reassure her. Hopefully then she'll be able to sleep.

Week 2:
She's stopped pacing. Now she mostly just sits. I'll go sit with her, sometimes, but she doesn't say much, so I invariably end up turning on the news. Just for some noise. She'll stare at it when I do, or maybe she's just staring in that direction. I can't tell.
She's never said anything, but I think the news might be good for her. Remind her she's back in the world of people.

Week 3:
I found Renee in the kitchen when I went in to get dinner. She was looking out the window towards the pond. "It's strange," she said. "Having a kitchen again. Instead of a cafeteria. I had to come see." When I invited her to, she ate dinner with me. I thought she was getting better, but she hasn't come back out of her room since. She spends most of her time looking out the window over the pond.

Week 4:
I walked into her room on Sunday to find her watching the pond, so I asked her about it. "I watch it because it isn't red." "Ponds generally aren't." "It's been a while since I could watch one that wasn't red." "Renee . . . That's gone. We're here now. We're through." She didn't say anything else, but she did sit down and cry.
I took her on a walk around the pond, then to a creek, then on a trip to a lake. I tried to get her to swim, but she found she was terrified of the water.

Week 5:
We had an appointment with a plastic surgeon about removing Renee's tattoo. We'll be coming back next week for the actual removal of the tattoo. The doctor said the chances of a clean removal are pretty good.
Since the visit, Renee's been touching everything. Tables, walls, artwork, appliances, photographs--especially photographs. She won't let me touch her, but she makes a point of touching people in photos or paintings and even, on occasion, on the TV. She doesn't watch it anymore; she just stands in front of it and practices touching.

Week Six:
They had to knock Renee out before the procedure. She had a panic attack and couldn't do what the doctors needed from her, so they gassed her up and knocked her out. When she came home, she went up to her room and spent the rest of the day topless in bed--or so I assume, because every time I came up there, she was topless and wouldn't let me in. She's been quiet ever since.

Week Seven:
I spent most of the week on a trip for work. When I came home, Renee'd taken out my photo albums and spread the pictures of people out across the living room floor. Both the TVs were left on. I left the photos where Renee'd left them--might be a project she was working on, and I don't really want to get in her way, but I turned off the TVs so I could sleep.