“Mr. Matthews,” a doctor says from the doorway. He has a square face, salt-and-pepper hair, and appears to be in his forties. Sporting khakis and an Oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up, he makes his way to Harper’s bedside. “I’m doctor Connors. How are you feeling?”
“Just peachy, doc. I think I just needed a good nap.” He gives his daughter another squeeze. Kailee faces the doctor and watches him with a child’s large-eyed, undisguised curiosity.
“Good, good,” Dr. Connors says. “I’m going to check your vitals just to make sure everything is okay.”
Harper nods and whispers to Kailee something about an ice cream with gramma. Kailee gives her father one last hug and steps off the bed. Ms. Matthews takes her hand and they both leave the room.
Dr. Connors checks Harper’s pupil response to light. “You had quite the spill, Mr. Matthews.”
“Call me Harper.”
“Sure. Harper. I’m amazed you didn’t break any bones to be honest. Twenty feet’s a long way, especially given how you landed.”
Harper massages his chin. “What can I say, I’ve got solid bones.”
“You are pretty dense,” Manny says.
Harper narrows his eyes at him. “I’m taking that as a compliment.
“And he proves my point,” Manny says.
He’s got him there and Harper knows it. He shakes his head and chuckles, but it causes him to cough. His lungs must feel like he’s had them worked over with steel wool.
“See what I gotta deal with, doc?” Harper says, his voice barely louder than a whisper.
Dr. Connors leans places a stethoscope on Harper’s back, listening intently. “Your heart and lungs sound good. You broke your nose, but we managed to realign it without any trouble. Any difficulty with getting air through your nose?”
Harper tests out his realigned schnoz, taking a deep breath through his nostrils.
“Feels terrific, doc.”
“That’s good,” Manny says, “because it looks terrible. Like one of those Sesame Street puppets.”
Harper laughs and so do I.
The doctor smiles out of politeness. I can tell he’s taken off guard by the ball-busting. But that’s just the sort of camaraderie we firefighters have. We try to offend each other in every situation, good or bad. It boosts morale.
“You also dislocated your shoulder. We got it back in but it’s going to be sore for the next few weeks. So go easy on it for a while. I recommend rehab until fully healed. Patience is the name of the game with these kind of injuries.”
“Oh shit,” Manny says. “You’re screwed, Harp. The doc says you need patience to recover properly.”
Harper gives Manny the finger without looking at him. Then says to the doctor, “sounds like a plan. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“I’m sure you will.”
There’s a moment of silence as Harper hangs his head. “I’m sorry guys—”
I cut him off immediately. “Don’t say that, Harp. Don’t ever say that. Shit happens and we all know it. Just focus on recovery.”
Harper nods without saying a word.
The doctor clears his throat. “I hate to be the party pooper, but we still have to run a few tests, and Harper should rest as much as possible.”
Manny raises his hand. “Hey, doc. Say no more. We’ll let you do your thing. Let’s go fellas.”
We say goodbye to our wounded brother and leave the room. The doctor follows us into the hall. Manny announces his need to relieve himself and heads down the hall in search of a bathroom.
“Thank you for everything that you’ve done, Dr. Connors,” I say while extending my hand.
