When Opportunity Knocks
Grant hearda voice but could’t discern whose it was. His consciousness returned slowly, first focusing on the mechanical beeping. His face was hot, each exhalation steaming the inside of the plastic mask he felt looped too tightly around his ears. He wanted to unhook the straps to relieve the invading headache, but his limbs wouldn’t cooperate.
He recognized the beeps as medical equipment.So I’m alive. He tried to open his eyes, but to no avail. The sense of control over any part of his body eluded him.Am I trapped in an unusable body?Panic creeped through his mind as he considered the possibility of a crippled life. His heart pounded with anxious rhythm as he strained to flutter an eye, wiggle a toe. He felt the muscles in his face tense.I can feel it. Like an approaching ambulance, the voice he heard became louder.
“He’s waking up. Doc, get over here.”
That voice sounds familiar. Grant scanned his memory, but it proved a difficult task. He couldn’t even remember his birthday.
“It could take a few minutes. His mind is still fazed.”
“Grant? Can you hear me?”
Grant’s eyes cracked open despite the crust gluing his eyelashes together. White light poured into the darkness behind his eyes and made his head pound like a drum. He pushed back into the pillow, fighting the pain. His entire body ached. His memories flooded his mind as if released from a locked vault.Is thatRusty?
“What’s wrong with him?” Rusty said.
“He’s in pain. Nurse, increase his morphine drip,” doctor Dillinger said.
The wheels of an IV rolled across the tile floor. Grant squeezed his eyes shut again in an attempt to block the brightness of the florescent lamps above him.
“Easy there,” the nurse said, placing her hand on his arm. “You should feel better momentarily.”
Grant’s muscles relaxed as the medicine took effect. He opened his eyes and squinted as doctor Dillinger shone light in his pupils to gauge responsiveness. “He’s awake.”
“Hello, Sergeant,” the nurse said.
She wore a blue surgical mask and a clear plastic visor over her face.I guess I haven’t slept through the Chorivirus pandemic. Damn.
“How is your pain now?” the nurse asked. “On a scale of one to ten.”
“Doesn’t matter what number he gives you,” Rusty said. “This guy would never admit he’s in pain.”
Grant turned his head and felt relief when he saw a familiar face from his second tour in Afghanistan leaning beside his bed.
“Rusty,” Grant said, raising his hand to shake his. Even with his face hidden behind the surgical mask, Grant easily recognized Rusty’s eyes, and if that hadn’t given it away, the Star Wars shirt did.
Before he retired, Rusty had been in charge of Gran’t unit in Afghanistan. Grant liked that Rusty was as dedicated to the job as he was. When all the other men resigned to their bunks to call their wives and children, Rusty and Grant talked hometowns and poker and military strategy late into the night at a cafeteria table.
Rusty glanced at the doctor. “Told you. Nothing but flesh wounds.” He pointed at his head. “Fine up here.”
Grant tried to sit up but not even pain killers could make it possible to put weight on his elbows.
“Try not to move,” the nurse said. “You got a few broken bones.”
“And second degree burns,” the doctor added. “It’s going to take a while for your body to heal.”
“Bravo team?” Grant asked. Faces filed through his mind – every man on his team. “Are they okay?”
“They sustained a few minor burns here and there and concussions,” Rusty said. “No casualties. You took the brunt of it.”
“As a leader should. I learned that from you,” Grant said, relieved. He’d rather have died a hundred times over than lose a single member of his team.
“Call button is here,” the nurse said. She pointed to a remote by the bed. “You’ve been getting food through your stomach while you were in a coma. Don’t pull at this.” Now she pointed at the tube hanging out from under his hospital gown. “Or this,” she said, pointing at the IV in his arm. “Your friend here tells me you don’t like tubes or tethers. I will strap you down if I have to.”
Grant shot Rusty a look before he could make an unprofessional comment. “I’ll be at my best behavior,” he said. “How long do I have to stay like this?”
“We’ll know more when we check under your bandages,” the doctor said. “For now, rest. You’ve got a good friend over here. I’ll let you talk.” He nodded at Rusty, then Grant, as he and the nurse left the room.
