“This is Allie, she fell off a horse,” Chris said, since I was too loopy to speak.
“And you are?” the doctor asked.
“My hero,” I cut in before Chris could reply. “These drugs are great,” I said, as the doctor raised my knee to check my range of motion. When I looked at Chris, I caught a smirk.
“Are you okay when I do this? Is the pain bearable or too much?” he asked.
“It’s not a 10 anymore, but that fucking hurts,” I said, without censoring my mouth. Chris squeezed my hand, and I squeezed him back.
“I bet. You broke your back in two places, and I think you’ve fractured your hip ball, too, which means surgery. I want an MRI to be sure about the hip first, so hang tight, kid,” he said.
“Hang on. Wait, say that again. My hip ball is broken? What does that mean? Can I ever play field hockey again?” I asked. Chris slid his chair closer to my distress.
“I don’t know yet,” he said, with a sympathetic look on his face. “Let’s get that hip looked at first, and then we can talk.”
“Fine, but can I have more drugs, because this is pretty miserable?” I asked him as nicely as possible.
“Let’s see what the films say, and if you need surgery before we make any more decisions. Hang in there. I’ll see you as soon as I read the films,” he said, and like that, he was gone.
As they wheeled me into the MRI room, everything was spinning, and I was sure I was going to puke. The nurses transferred me to the MRI table, which was as hard as a rock and couldn’t have been any colder.
“Can I have some blankets, please?” I asked, and they piled three warm blankets on me, which stopped me from shivering. Before sliding me into the machine, they handed me a barf bag because I looked so green.
“Just in case,” the nurse said with a sweet smile and then smoothed back the hair on my forehead and gave me some headphones to drown out the machine noise before she walked out of the room.
“Well, good news and bad news,” The doctor said as he walked through the doors of my room. “Your hip ball is not broken, as far as I can see through all the swelling. Maybe in a week, when it goes down, it will be a different story, but right now it’s not glaringly broken. So that’s good. But... you have uncontrolled bleeding in your right hip from the impact. It’s a hematoma the size of a football in your hip, and that’s why you’re in so much pain. It will take time for the blood to reabsorb, and until then, you’ll just have to tough it out. I’ll send you home with something for the pain. Your back is also broken in the L-2 and L-3 spinal processes, and they may or may not ever repair themselves. Only time will tell, but I think your field hockey days may be on hold. Come see me in 2 weeks, and I want to see how you’re doing. Get some rest, kid; that was a hell of a day you had. Take good care of her, Chris. Merry Christmas, everyone.” And then he was gone again.
When I turned to look at Chris, I heard the doors to the room burst open behind me.
“Allie! There you are!“ I heard James say. “I came as soon as I saw your mom backing out of the driveway, and she told me what happened!” he said, but he stopped flat when he laid eyes on Chris beside me, holding my hand. “YOU! What are you doing here?” James demanded as he stepped closer and stared at our interlaced fingers.
“She called me to come pick her up,” Chris said, as I watched on through the fog of Demerol. “I’m here, she’s fine, you can go home,” Chris said, before James could reply.
“What about us?” James asked as he sat down on the other side of the bed and reached for my hand. At the same moment, through the grogginess, I lifted my hand to scratch an itch on my belly, a reaction to the drugs, and then rested my hand on my stomach. The hurt in James’s eyes was enough to make him stand up and walk to the door. “It’s like that, then?” But before I could respond, James was gone.
When I looked back at Chris, he was smiling, but I was too drugged to understand why.
“I’ve missed you, baby,” Chris said as he kissed me on the hand.
“I love you,” I said, as I drifted into a drug-induced sleep.
He gasped.
34
When I finally woke up, I was discharged. They sure were quick to kick me out with all these broken bones. Chris helped me into a wheelchair because my hip was in too much pain to do it on my own.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, feeling less groggy, when I realized it was Chris.
“What are you talking about? I’ve been here the whole time,” he said, as he brushed the hair out of my face. I grabbed his wrist to push his hand away. He looked hurt.
Chris stepped behind the wheelchair and pushed me to the front entrance, where we waited for my Mom to pull the car around. As soon as he rolled me through the automatic doors, a blast of frozen air hit me in the face and poured into my lungs. The chill made my muscles tense up and spasm. I whimpered at the pain.
“Here, you’re cold, wrap yourself in this,” Chris said, laying his jacket across my lap, but I jerked away.
“No thanks.”
Confused, he put his jacket back on.
