Wild Child

“That could be from the anesthesia or from the narcotics.  Once we get you upstairs, I’ll get you some Tylenol.”

I nod, feeling grumbly and irritated all of a sudden.

I close my eyes against the sight of rectangles of light passing by overhead, and I relax against the mattress of the gurney.  As we roll through the halls, I digest what I’ve just been told.

“Which arm was hurt?” I ask, unable to clearly recall everything the nurse said.

“Your right.”

A mild feeling of alarm passes through me, but the world is too fuzzy for me to process it or dwell on it.

“Can I use it?”

“You’ll need some physical therapy, but the doctor repaired everything as best he could.”

“My car?”

“I don’t know about that, but considering the shape you arrived in, I’m thinking it’s going to need a lot of work.”

Dammit!

After a short trip in the elevator, the nurse wheels me down a short hall and through automatic doors.  The world gets quiet all of a sudden. I barely hear the click of the doors closing behind us.

As the nurse rolls me farther into the new area, I hear muted whispers and faint beeping sounds.  I open my eyes again just as I’m being backed into a room.  To my left is a window that looks outside.  The curtain is pulled shut against the setting sun.  To my right is a wall of windows that look out into a semi-circular configuration of counter tops—a nurse’s station.  This must be the ICU.

Within a few seconds, there’s a loud thump as the nurse sets my bed’s brake, and then I hear my mother’s voice.

“Was he able to fix it all?”

I lift my head to try and locate her, but it falls right back onto the pillow. It must weigh at least fifty pounds.  “Mom?”

I feel her cool hand take my left one.  “I’m here, Jeff,” she says in her calm, practiced, nurse voice.  I feel like smiling. She’s the only person on the planet that calls me Jeff.  Jeffrey when she’s mad.  “Give me just a few minutes to talk to the nurse. I’ll be right back.”

She kisses my forehead and then I don’t hear their voices anymore.  I want to wait for her to come back and answer all my questions, but damn!  I’m so tired all of a sudden.  Maybe if I rest for just a few minutes…

********

When I wake, my eyes open immediately and effortlessly.

Bout damn time! I think to myself.

I raise my head and, despite the dull throb that starts up instantly, I look around.  There are some people behind the tall counter of the nurse’s station.  All the lights are on and, when I turn to look out the windows, I see that it’s dark outside.  But what puzzles me is that I have to look past some kind of contraption to see.

My right arm is immobilized by a series of cords.  My upper arm is casted and there are straps coming out of it at my elbow.  They attach to some fixed point that I can’t see.  My elbow is bent to ninety degrees and my lower arm is casted, too.  There are straps coming out from beneath it at my fingertips, and they attach to some wires that go up into a pulley that is counterweighted somewhere down around the foot of the bed.

“What the hell?” I say to no one in particular.

A shadow falls across me and I look back toward the door.  My mother is standing there.  Although not one short, strawberry hair is out of place and her clothes and makeup look like she has just come to work, there’s a frazzled look about her I’m not used to seeing.

My stomach sinks.

“What?  Something’s up.  I can see it on your face.”

She walks farther into the room and gives me a smile as she perches on the edge of the bed.  “Can’t I just be happy you’re all right?”

“Sure you can.  Was there ever a doubt that I would be?”

“Not really.  You’re here just as a precaution, in case they might’ve missed something internal.”

“Well then, why the worry?”

“Well…  It’s just that…  Jeff, your arm is in pretty bad shape.  And I know how impatient you are.  You need to understand how important it is for you to let this heal right and to realize that you’re going to be very limited for a while.  But if you push it, son, you could have permanent damage.”

“Push it?  What the hell am I gonna push?  They’ve got me strung up like a damn puppet!”

“For good reason.  You were thrown from the car and your right arm must’ve gotten tangled up in your lap belt somehow. Nearly tore it off.  Your rotator cuff is torn, you dislocated your shoulder, your humerus is broken in two places, your—”

“Speak English, woman,” I interrupt gruffly, trying to add a teasing note to my voice, but failing miserably. The fact that she’s acting like this has me worried.

“You dislocated your shoulder, you messed up that joint, you broke your upper arm in two places, you broke both bones in your lower arm, sustained significant ligament damage in your right hand, cracked three ribs and badly bruised your right hip.  You also had a concussion and they picked a bunch of glass out of your face.  Is that plain enough for you?”

“So what you’re saying is my whole right side is banged up?”

“Yes, to put it mildly.”

“Okay, so how long will I be in here?”

“Weeks.  You don’t—”

“Weeks?  Are you kidding me?  Why can’t they just put me in a normal cast and send me home in a few days?”

“Because your injuries are severe, Jeffrey.  That’s what I’m trying to tell you. You can’t rush this or you could have permanent damage.”

“Like what kind of permanent damage?”

“Like the kind that means you could never regain full use of your right hand and arm.”

Oh shit.

Now I see why she looks so upset.  My job, my livelihood, all my dreams depend on me being able to use my hands and arms to work on cars.  Hell, I’d have been better off to have broken my leg than my arm. Or even my left arm.  But not my right one.  God almighty, not my right one!

What the hell am I gonna do about my garage?  About the vehicles I’ve already been contracted to restore?  I was just getting that part of my dream under way. It’s been slow going, but I could see it starting to take shape. But now…  After this…

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to heal fast and right then.”

“I know you will.  If you do what they tell you.”

“I will, I will,” I snap, already aggravated and ready to leave this conversation behind.  “Who else is out there?  Anybody?”

Mom shakes her head.  “You’ve only been out of surgery for a couple of hours, Jeff.  Give them some time.”

“Well, Trick’s on his honeymoon, I’m sure.  And Jenna probably doesn’t even know yet, does she?”

“I talked to Leena. She called when she heard.  She said she’d tell Trick, but I asked her to wait until they had a couple of days to enjoy their trip, and to tell them you were doing fine. I knew you wouldn’t want them to rush home to see you.  You’ll still be here when they get back.”

“No, I wouldn’t have wanted that.”  After a few seconds, I ask her again about Jenna.  “So you didn’t call Jenna then?”

I hear her sigh.  “Yes, I called Jenna.”

“Is she coming?”

“I don’t know.  She hung up.”

She hung up?  What the hell does that mean?