Starting Over

Chapter 2

Thanks xxDaisyloverxx for the cover!

Waking up at a hospital is no fun.

You hurt and you ache and the lights feel too bright.

It smells funny and you’re hooked up to machines.

I felt hazy. It was probably because of the drugs they were pumping into my system. I knew I should be in some intense pain, but I wasn’t.

Then I opened my eyes. I sure didn’t look like any hospital I’d ever seen. It wasn’t blindingly white.

The walls were a warm brown. The bed actually felt comfortable.

I was alone. This had to be a private room. The kind reserved for those who were patrons of the hospital.

I sighed. Someone messed up and put me in the wrong room.

I pressed the button on the side of the bed. It would signal a nurse to come in here. I’d been shot before while on duty, so I kind of knew the routine.

“Wow, aren’t you looking good today.” Her smile was sickly sweet. “I was wondering if you were going to wake up today.” Her voice was too loud. “I’ll take that tube out of your throat so you can talk.”

She tied her hair back into a pony tail then put some gloves on. She undid the ties and ripped off the tape. “Sorry.” She said when I winced. “It’s just like a band aid.”

Band-Aid my ass. They weren’t as thick as that tape she just pulled off my face.

“I need you to cough a few times.” She put a small pink bucket on my lap. “You might feel like you have to upchuck, so aim for this bin please.”

Maybe I’d throw up on her so she wouldn’t be so cheery, I thought bitterly. No one should be this happy while working in a hospital.

She was right, I did want to puke, but I managed not to.

“When do I get to leave?” My voice was raspy. It felt like I had a sore throat that wouldn’t let up.

She pursed her lips, “It’s going to be a while I’m afraid. We’re waiting for some results to come back.”

“What results?” I groaned as I sat myself up.

“We had to send a few of your lab results back; they were coming back with the numbers way off. Then the doctor needs to check on your leg.”

I looked down. It ached, but it didn’t really hurt. It was bandaged up a lot. It made my leg look almost double the size.

“Did I have surgery?”

She nodded, “You were very torn up when they brought you in. The doctor did a very good job saving your leg. There should be only minimal loss of function.”

My eyes quickly met hers. “What do you mean loss of function?”

She sighed, “When patients who have lost as much muscle as you, usually the affected limb is amputated. Luckily your doctor was able to repair your arteries and resume blood flow to the rest of your leg.”

I looked down at my bandaged leg. I could feel my career disappearing. I couldn’t go back to what I was doing if I was going to have minimal loss of function. “Has anyone come by?”

“Not yet. But we restrict visitors to this section of the hospital.”

“And what section of the hospital am I in?”

She smiled at me like I was a child. I wanted to smack her right in her face. I know you’re not supposed to ‘kill the messenger’, but it felt like the best idea right now.