“So how do you feel?” The doctor was making notes on a clipboard he’d retrieved from the end of Ian’s bed.
“Like a football player landed on me…hard.”
“He’s just fine”, Tippy smiled broadly.
“How’s the pain?” the doctor continued to make notes as he poked here and prodded there.
Ian responded with appropriate amounts of “Ouch”, “Ahhhh” and “Not until you poked me”. He had been disoriented for a few minutes, but everything had come back to him with a vengeance. He remembered every sordid detail, whether he wanted to or not.
He was anxious for the doctor to get out of the room so he could get to a phone. It was now Wednesday morning. He had slept for far too long and he needed to get in touch with the team at work and let them know that everything was fine.
The whole event had left him feeling odd and uncomfortable, physically as well as mentally. Bits and pieces of the past kept swirling through his mind, in no particular order, and Ian was determined to get some grounding back in as much reality as he could as quickly as possible.
He was relieved that Billy was fine, to be released tomorrow morning. His wonderfully rowdy little entourage informed him little of what had been determined had transpired—or as much as they knew. Kellen was off getting the details on that. Ian was still in shock over the whole ordeal.
“So when can I get out of here? I have a lot to do…” Ian asked the doctor.
“Just relax and get comfortable Mr. Justyn. You’ll be with us a while yet.”
“Unacceptable. I need to be home by this afternoon. Just prescribe something and I’ll get out of your hair…”
“Excuse me?” Tippy’s ire reared its ugly head.
“I said just give me…”
“I heard what you said, young man.” She put her hands on her hips and planted her feet firmly on the floor. “And that is what is not acceptable. You will stay in that bed as long as it takes and you will give these people all the time they need to get you healthy again!”
“I have a son to look after…”
“Quiet! This is not a conversation, I will talk and you will listen!” The doctor threw up his hands and stepped out of the line of fire.
“This is serious, Baby Doll. You almost died on us. You will not be yanking your jeans on and going on your merry way today. And Ronnie’s just fine. He’s with us. Jesse and Reese are spoiling him rotten, so I want no blame from the peanut gallery.” She moved close to Ian, close enough to take his hand gently in hers, her voice became soothing, still firm, but soothing.
“You punctured both lungs, honey. You got some broken bones and that cup thingy…”
“Rotator cuff…” the doctor kind of coughed out.
“Thanks, Sweetums…rotator cuff was torn to shreds. They had to go ahead and repair it while they fixed your lungs and put the puzzle pieces of your ribs back together. We’re just lucky there was no damage to that big ol’ heart of yours or your spine. Be a good boy and just do whatever the doctor tells you. Let your family take care of everything else.” She kissed Ian’s forehead.
“Or I’ll beat the living tar out of you myself.” She smiled at the doctor and returned to her chair by the window. “He’s all yours now, Sweetums.”
The doctor cleared his throat. “I think that just about wraps it up. You’ll need physical therapy. I’ve already assigned someone. He’ll help me to determine what we need to do about the knee. Nothing was broken there, but most of the ligaments were torn away. It may be up to you whether or not you want surgery to repair it.”
“So I just lay here wired up like a Muppet and wait?”
“Pretty much. It’s what you need to do to let your body heal. If you’re a good boy…” He smiled, “You will be out of here and home—not work—but home shortly.”
“Look, my job isn’t physical, it’s just…”
“…Stressful…I know what you do Mr. Justyn, everybody in and out of this hospital knows what you do. You are all over the news…”
Ian tried to put his head in his hands, but one was immobilized and the other hurt like hell so he just hung his head. Even that hurt. “Great, I’m Paris Hilton with a hairy chest…”
“You are much better off right now where you are…” The doctor scratched some more on the clipboard and hung it back. “I’m going to have some sedatives brought to you...”
“Sedatives? Please don’t make me sleep more...please!”
“Mr. Justyn, you need as much rest as possible…”
“I’ve slept for three days. I’m all caught up, I promise!” he begged.
“I’ll make you a deal. If you stay quiet…” he turned to the rest of the ménage, “...and that goes for you, too, and eat a nice lunch, I’ll hold off on the first sedatives until this afternoon. One peep and I’ll sock you so full of Percidan you’ll float until Christmas. Got it?”
“Got it…” Ian wasn’t happy.
“Now if everyone will step outside, I need to do a more in depth examination…”
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