I was losing patience. Correction, I lost my patience one hundred and forty-five thousand minutes ago when a room full of white coats sat me down and tried to explain ‘incomplete spinal injury of unclear etiology.’ The bullet was lodged next to her spine at the level of T6, but didn’t actually hit it. (And yes, now I was so well versed in nomenclature of vertebrae and spinal levels that I could probably teach a fucking anatomy course.) She was moving her legs before and immediately after surgery. Her MRIs and CT scans, for all intents and purposes were normal with ‘standard post-operative changes,’ none of which contributed to or were even localized to the level of her spinal injury, which was determined to be T12. Yet she had full sensation below her waist and had what they called sacral sparing, meaning she was fully continent. But she couldn’t move her legs at all. It made no sense. It was an enigma only documented in a dozen case reports, each with different outcomes. Ten of twelve were unacceptable.
The real kicker was risk management’s pseudo-friendly visit day two to reassure Tal that outside Neuro specialists were consulted and found no correlation to the actual surgery. Like she was going to blame Chase. There was one person to blame, and half his brain matter was still probably splattered on Chase’s living room wall. So yeah, my patience for hospital administrators was non-existent.
I looked straight through Theresa Whatever, because I was done looking at her and said, “Let me get this straight, you’re upset I’m taking my fiancé home instead of to an inpatient rehab because you have to do a little extra paperwork. Are you really telling me that I was able to coordinate an entire renovation from here, make our place wheelchair accessible in a week’s time, and you couldn’t fax a few reports or pick up the goddamn phone to make sure her physical therapy was set up? Please tell me you’re not saying that.”
“Ace.” Cue second look of death. “Theresa, I’m sorry, he didn’t mean it like that. We’re all just a little on edge.”
Damn well I meant it like that.
“It’s fine, I get it. I do, Mr. Craig. I feel your frustration-”
“No,” I cut her off from continuing her condescension, “I don’t think you do. She’s going home and she’s going home today. I’ve given you the team of therapists we’ve chosen. With simple coordination they’re all on board. You’re the patient coordinator, correct? If you can’t handle it, print up the necessary reports and my assistant will gladly take over.”
“It is not that simple, Mr. Craig. Prior authorizations need to go through-”
If she mentioned prior authorization one more time I was going to implode.
“I couldn’t give two-” I swiped my face to get a grip before I lost my shit. I refused to sleep on the couch our first night home. And the way Tal’s lethal eye daggers were drilling into me, I was close. Not to mention she worked with these people. “Money is not an issue at all. Understand?”
“So you’ve said-” Her tight-mouthed sneer screamed must be nice, but I honestly didn’t care. I wasn’t apologizing for working hard and being financially secure. “Fine, if you don’t want to go through insurance, your prerogative. Give me an hour. I can’t guarantee PT today, but you’ll definitely have your home health aid.”
“I didn’t request an aid,” I snapped. Why the hell would she need an aid?
Tal placed her hand over my arm. “I did.” She looked from me to Useless. “Thanks, Theresa. We’re all set here.” Tal held back on apologizing and reiterating that I was an ass. But I didn’t get it.
“Why would you ask for an aid? We don’t need that—you just need therapy. With everything else you’ve got me.”
“I know. But you can’t stay home all day. And until I strengthen my upper body and can, well, help myself more, an extra pair of hands will be helpful.”
I wasn’t letting her go there. Oh hell no. It was this hospital. The walls were suffocating us both. We needed the hell out.
“First of all, this isn’t permanent, so get that out of your head. And second, I’m not going anywhere. I will be home with you until you’re better.” My pep talk had the opposite effect of what I’d hoped. Her eyes softened and glassed over.
“Ash, I can’t even shower… ” She fought to keep her composure. My chest tensed. She hadn’t shed any tears since that first day in recovery. Not a single one. In nine long days. “I’m not strong enough to lift myself from the chair.” The crack in her voice made my chest tension turn to a full constriction. “I, um, can’t go to the bathroom by myself.” A single drop escaped and rolled down her cheek, leaving me to fight my own.
I palmed her face so she couldn’t look away. “Then I will carry you.” I hoped my eyes said the million other things the knot in my throat wouldn’t let me.
Our moment was interrupted with a loud knock.
“Dr. P, what’s up, girl? Hope I’m not interrupting, but I heard you’re springing the joint. Thought you’d like your fancy new wheels.” Julius was director of inpatient Physical Therapy and the newest member of her home rehab team. An athlete-turned-physical-therapist after a helmet to the spine ended his pro ball career and left him in a chair of his own for seven months, he was six and a half feet of tough love and just what Tal needed. Or so I thought. He was pushing the small-framed black chair around as if it were the next item up for bid on the Price is Right. “Ultra-lite, tita-nium. Whoa, girlfriend, your man’s got some deep pockets. This is the Cadi-llac deluxe.” That was it, he was fired. “I told him not to waste his money, told him he could lease one of these bad boys. Did he listen to Julius? Hell no. Now Doc, we gotta show him up. How about we make a pact to get you out of this chair before his Amex bill comes in next month?” Then the son of a bitch winked at her. “What do ya say?”
Tal swiped under her eyes. “Sounds like a plan, Julius.” And she laughed.
He just got a raise.
Three hours and another clockwork carnation arrangement later, we were home.
“Something smells delicious,” Tal said with a weak smile, the kind that didn’t quite meet her eyes, but it was a smile just the same.
And she was right—a waft of goodness smacked us in the face as I pushed her through the door. Lili. Must have explained the five texts earlier about Tal’s favorites. She didn’t need to go to this trouble. I made sure the entire fridge was stocked, including several containers of Grasshopper sent directly from Cape Cod’s best.
“It does. Someone’s been busy.” I genuinely laughed, feeling so fantastic to be back in our apartment. “Lili and Chase have been sleeping here … I wouldn’t be surprised if we have fifty pre-made dinners.” We stopped just beyond the door where a new ramp, stained to match the dark finish of the hardwood, led into the sunken living room. It was still an eyesore.
“I really can’t believe you already got all this done.” In the hospital, we had discussed the changes the apartment would need to make all the rooms wheelchair accessible, including widening some of the doors. She didn’t need to watch our home transformation. It was hard enough coming in and seeing it finished. Of course it was done. “Good to be home.” Her small smile widened a little. “Feels like forever.” Because it was. “I can’t wait to sleep in our bed.”
Damn, that sounded perfect.
“I just can’t wait to hold you, feel you in my arms, I’ve missed you so much.”
She sucked in a small breath and closed her eyes for a beat too long. Shit. What flashed across her mind was so not what I meant.