The seizure was over, and I’d regained consciousness by the time she made it down the stairs, but Gene was inconsolable. Kinley didn’t think a trip to the hospital was necessary but called the ambulance out to the house as a precaution.
I don’t want to have this conversation in front of Freddy and Jackie, but she’s everything to me. As soon as I can get a few moments alone with her, I wanna make sure she knows exactly how I feel.
Gene follows in Kinley’s truck, and now we’re in the ICU.
“Thought we agreed not to see each other like this again,” Dr. De León says, walking through the door with Loretta, a.k.a. Nurse Ratchet.
“What are you two doing here?” I ask, verifying I’ve not somehow gone back to Denver.
“My wife and I are in town skiing.”
“Wait. You’re married to Nurse Ratchet?”
Kinley and Gene crack up, and I take that as a good sign. I’m shaky and wrung out, but I’m more worried for them. Also, if I thought Kinley was giving me the stink-eye before, she’s got nothing on Nurse Ratchet.
Nurse Loretta grabs the iPad from the attending and begins tapping the screen. Her eyes flick to mine, and the judgment is…wow.
“Day-long practice sessions? Really?”
“Oh, you know me. Gotta be extra. The obstinate country music star.”
“It’s true,” Gene pipes up. “You’ve got a reputation to uphold.”
“Not anymore, you don’t,” Loretta declares.
Dr. De León laughs and kisses the back of her wife’s hand. “Better you than me, Mac.”
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Everyone’s a comedian.
It takes a few hours to go through the rounds of tests, but Dr. De León verifies everything looks good, there’s no swelling, and my recovery has indeed gone well.
“Seizures aren’t a sign of regression. Sometimes they’re a sign of additional recovery, and sometimes they just happen. Cannabis has proven to be effective for these kinds of seizures, and while I’ll be giving you a prescription, you can go to any dispensary. Here’s a list of the strains that have worked well for my patients.”
I read through the list, a little shocked at first. Then I remember we’re in Colorado, and this is perfectly legal. It’s not like I haven’t smoked weed with Willie—that’s as much a sign of success as standing on that round piece of old wood on the Opry stage—but this is definitelydifferent.
Kinley looks over the list and points out one of the names. “This one is my favorite. We’ll stop by Angie’s on the way home.”
Home. That sounds really good.
* * *
Dr. De Leónended up keeping me overnight for observation, but Kinley and Gene picked me up this morning. Gene still looks a little shell-shocked, and I have a feeling he’s just reduced my approved tour time.
The thought of not constantly being on the move still kinda terrifies me. But spending the last several weeks doing nothing has taught me the value of stillness. I’ve tried to go back to my old habits, but between Kinley, Gene, Nurse Ratchet, and my brain, I don’t think I can do that anymore.
And I find I don’t want to.
We pull up to Kinley’s house, and there are a few cars out front. Mason’s standing on the porch, his arms crossed. I get out of the car, and he immediately starts in on me.
“They tell me you’ve been taking hikes in the woods alone. Hello! I am here!”
“No, you’re not. You’re canoodling with Freddy.”
“Yeah, five minutes down the road. If you need to go on a hike, call me. You know I’m slow. Hell, it’ll be like hiking by yourself.”
I hold up my hands. “I have been warned about hiking by myself. I value my life and my career,” I say, eyeballing Gene, “so I will be glad to take you up on hiking together.”
“Damn Skippy.” Mason looks over at Kinley. “I hope you won’t view this as an abuse of key privileges, but a bunch of people asked after Mac, and I let them in.”
