Bennett The Brave

Chapter 44

Chapter 44

Categorically, without question, that was probably the shittiest Christmas Eve I have ever endured. By the time I woke up, in a nauseated cold sweat, I found myself lying on my own bed, with nothing on, save for a towel wrapped around my middle. I was surrounded by my very worried looking parents, and my pediatrician seated next to me, my wrist in his hand.

"His pulse is coming back to normal." the doctor said. I tried to speak but my tongue was glued to the roof of my mouth and all I could manage was a gagging retch as a wave of vertigo forced me to shut my eyes again. "Hush, now Bennett," the doctor said, smoothing a cold, damp cloth over my eyes, "Don't try to talk just yet. You've had a pretty big seizure and it's going to take a little while to get all your wires reconnected."

My entire body felt like I'd been washed, wrung out and tumble-dried. The very act of trying to raise an arm or turn my head seemed to require Herculean effort. I heard myself moaning and gave up trying to do much of anything other than just lay there.

"He's got a broken rib, I'm pretty sure," I heard the doctor tell my parents, "How often does he have these seizures?"

"This is the first one he's had since we came back from Newington, Pat," my father told him, "the medication has been keeping them at bay. This is probably the worst one we've seen so far..."

I drifted off as they muttered over me, and I'm not sure exactly how long I slept. When I woke again, it was dark outside my window. I lay there, blinking as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. The weight of my blanket on my chest felt a little uncomfortable but when I tried to throw it off, I found I couldn't move my arm. Confused, I squirmed, only to find my other arm was pinned to my side as well. Turning my head, I found my nose buried in a deep pile of soft hair; Neal was snoring gently, leaned up against me with one hand protectively enclosing my nuts.

My wiggling about awakened Neal, his eyes sparkled in the spare light coming in the room from the dim bulb down the hallway.

"Hey!" he whispered, smiling, "Welcome back to the world!"

"I gotta pee." I mumbled, my voice sounding like sandpaper blocks rubbing together. Come to think of it, that's the way it felt too. Neal swung away and bounced out of the bed, causing a sharp wave of pain to slice through my side; I winced and hissed in a breath.

"Oooh!" Neal cried, "Sorry!" He came around the bed, threw off the covers and gently stood me up with my good arm. I looked down and saw my other arm in a sling which had been splinted to my chest. I must have looked confused. "That's to keep you from bumping your broken rib."

"Broken rib?" I asked, "What the hell happened to me?"

"You don't remember?"

"No, not really."

Truthfully, it would take a little while before the jumble in my brain sorted itself out. For the moment, I just had to trust that it would, eventually. My head throbbed as Neal helped me shuffle into the bathroom. He tugged my briefs down and suggested I sit to pee, which seemed like a good idea. As I sat, another wave of nausea twisted inside of me. Leaning back, I felt the cool porcelain of the toilet tank on my back, and it felt nice. A deep, visceral pain looped its way around my belly and marched toward, what I hoped would be a quick conclusion. Trying to relax, I took a deep, sighing breath of relief as I felt the contents of my bowels rush out in a glorious, fetid torrent.

"Jesus Horatio Hornblower Christ!" Neal exclaimed, pinching his nose and waving the air around his head. Even in my misery, I short laugh burst from my lips. He reached behind me and flushed, I felt the cooling rush of air between my legs, along with the splash of cold water spray as the toilet emptied and refilled. Several more volleys of only liquid poured from me, interposed by noisy, but very satisfying farts. By the time I was certain I was through, my butt hole was stinging and raw, and I found it difficult to wipe in my present condition. Neal, heaven bless him, took a warm, soapy washcloth and gently dabbed at my sore anus. One takes one's joy where one can, I suppose, and at that particular moment in time, getting my sore butt lovingly cleaned by Neal was probably the best thing he could have done for me.