It felt as if I were clawing my way up through a long, dark tunnel as I fought my way back to consciousness. I hurt all over. There were needles in my arms and tubes jammed down my throat. At least I was still alive but in a panic I tried to pull the tubes out of my face. I felt two strong but gentle hands push me back into the pillow. "It's alright," a feminine voice said. "Looks like you're going to be just fine." Then she said to someone else, "Tell the doctor she's come around."
"How are we doing this morning?" a male voice said, bringing me back to consciousness. This time the tube was out of my mouth and I felt a little better. I tried to say something but all I could manage was a croak. "That's alright, Sara," the voice continued as the man it was coming from checked my pulse and shined a light into my eyes, "It might take a while for your voice to come back because of the feeding tube. You were comatose for almost two weeks. We thought we were going to lose you."
I looked around the hospital room as the doctor cranked my bed up into a semi-sitting position. There were several vases filled with flowers and a couple of tinfoil helium balloons with "Get Well" on them. "We're going to start you on solid food today and intensify your physical therapy sessions," the doctor went on. "It'll still take a while before you're back to your old self."
I didn't have a clue what my old self was. I didn't even know if I was a boy or a girl. I tentatively reached down to find out and ran my fingers through the soft curly hairs and found the crease. I knew exactly what I was feeling. It was a pussy! I pressed into the cleft and found the silky smoothness of the moist labia, the little clit hidden where the labia came together and the tight entrance to a tunnel of pleasure. All the parts were there and I started to realize why women liked to be touched there.
It took two or three days to get my bearings. I slept a lot, only waking to eat and have my therapy sessions. I was groggy and completely disoriented. When I was finally able to talk, it would only come out as a hoarse whisper and when I tried to say or do something it was like my brain was partially disconnected. It seemed like every time I tried to express myself in some way it would come out sounding real stupid. I noticed too, that my short-term memory was malfunctioning. Everything that I experienced for those first days in the hospital was kind of hazy and dream like.
The days seemed to all run together. I felt like a rag doll that the hospital staff constantly dressed, undressed, washed, twisted, bent, stretched and pleasured themselves by having me do painful and nearly impossible exercises. They would put tight support stockings on my legs and have me do pull ups on a trapeze hanging over my bed or work on a little bicycle pedal gizmo while laying down. It seemed like everyday I would be strapped onto a tilt table and tipped upright until my head started to swim. Finally, I got to the point where I could sit on the edge of my bed and hang my feet over the side. When I got pretty good at doing my exercises in bed, they started carting me off to the therapy room for some real torture. There I worked on learning to walk again along with doing eye to hand exercises and some resistance training.
The first morning that I felt I was finally getting my shit together, a cute little nurse's aid named Jenifer came in with my breakfast after the doctor had made his rounds. She cranked my bed up and put the tray on the little table. I touched her arm and croaked, "Gotta pee," and pointed towards the bathroom.
"Oh no," she said. "I'll get your bedpan."
"Not today," I managed to say in my raspy voice and started to push myself upright and out of bed.
"Ok, ok, let me help you then." She wrapped her arm around my waist and helped me to my feet. I was still weak as a kitten and it was a major effort to cross the room. Jenifer looked a little hefty when I first saw her, but as I clung to her I found that her loose fitting white smock and pants hid a pretty well rounded figure. She had a narrow waist and huge, firm tits. She was a really cute lightly freckled strawberry blond who looked to be in her early twenties. I guess I liked girls.
When we made it to the can I turned around and eased my butt down to the cold toilet seat with my hospital gown bunched up around my waist. The relief felt wonderful and when I was done I pulled myself to a standing position using the handrails on the wall next to the toilet and shakily moved over to lean on the sink. It was a real shock looking at the face in the mirror. Looking back at me was a young girl about nineteen or twenty with shoulder length dark hair and neon blue eyes. The face was vaguely familiar. She was a little haggard and tired looking but with some rest and a little make up she'd be a real beauty.
She? I thought to myself. That was me. "Whoa! Shit!" I moaned to myself as the thought sunk in.
"Are you all right in there?" Jenifer called through the door.
"Fine, I guess," I rasped. "I just don't know who the hell I am."
"I'm sure it will all come back to you in time. Just take it easy. You really shouldn't be over doing it your first day up." She put her arm back around my waist and helped me back to bed.
After I had finished my breakfast and was alone again, I found a little round make up mirror in the nightstand drawer. I raised the blankets on the bed, brought my knees up and positioned the mirror so that I could look at my crotch. The soft rounded vulva was covered in a thatch of dark curls. The crease was barely visible through the thick hair but a little dimple at the top was noticeable. I separated the puffy outer labia to expose the silky folds hidden inside. The wrinkled petals of the inner lips, which could have been an empty scrotum, came together at the top, forming a hood to cover the sensitive knot of the clitoris. As I probed with my fingers, the touch caused the tissues in that area to begin to swell and a glistening drop of thick, slippery fluid formed outside the entrance of the vaginal sheath. I always thought that the female pudendum, in its similarity to an orchid, was one of the most beautiful things in creation, and here I was exploring one of my own.
I was just getting into the sensuality of my pussy when the doctor came back in. "I hear that you have a mild case of amnesia," he said. "I just wanted to reassure you that it's normal in a case like yours."
"Well for beginners, you can introduce yourself," I said in my raspy whisper. "And then you can tell me all you know about me."
"I'm Dr. Richards and I've been your family physician since you were six years old. Does the name `Sara McFarland' ring a bell?"
"Only that I've been called Sara since I woke up here."
"What can you remember?"
"I still know how to wipe my ass, read, write and drive a car, you know, shit like that. I just don't know anything about my life, where I've lived or where we are now. I didn't even know that I was a girl."
"Well, you suffered quite a trauma. You were in a pretty nasty accident and sustained a concussion from a blow to the head. Your injury was healed in about a week and we didn't have a clue why you were in a comatose condition. You were run through the entire battery of tests and we could find nothing wrong with you physically except that your brain activity was extremely low. Everything is back to normal now. If you don't get your memories back in a few days, we'll run some psychological tests to see where we can help you."
"I kind of have the feeling that Sara doesn't live here anymore."
"Don't you worry. When your family and friends come to visit you'll start to recognize them and things will start to come back to you."
"What ever you say, Doc," I said as he turned to leave. "Oh, by the way, you never did tell me where we are."
"This is the San Diego Memorial Hospital."
