Dr. Schwartz went over the short-term plan—evaluate him for deficits, get him eating again, perform his cranioplasty. “I’m hopeful that we can move him to an acute recovery center in the next couple of weeks to start intensive therapy. In the meantime, we’ll do our best to keep him comfortable and support his progress.”
Megs stood, shook Dr. Schwartz’s hand. “You’re a hero in my eyes. Thank you for saving Mitch’s life.”
Dr. Schwartz smiled. “I love happy endings. We don’t always get them, and that makes them all the more precious.”
Megs made her way to Mitch’s room and found him trying to feed himself red Jello with a large-handled spoon, Riana, the physical therapist, sitting beside him.
Riana smiled. “Speaking of Megs, here she is.”
Mitch looked up, and the blob of red Jello fell onto his tray. “Nnno.”
“Hey, there, love. How’s the Jello?”
Mitch frowned. “Nnnoo.”
Riana tried to encourage him. “Hey, most of it is getting into your mouth. That’s not easy, especially when you’re wearing a collar.”
Megs understood that Mitch was frustrated, but, damn, he’d come so far so quickly. “I’ll help him if you’ve got other patients to see.”
Riana stood. “He’s got some new exercises. I printed them out and left them for you at the nurse’s station.”
“Thank you. We appreciate your help.”
Megs sat beside Mitch. “You haven’t eaten food since we had that snack on the ledge on Painted Wall. Do you remember?”
His brow furrowed. “Nno.”
He struggled, making other sounds that weren’t words, then he dropped his spoon, clearly angry.
Megs took his hand. “You remember me, right?”
He nodded, the motion hampered by his collar. “Mmmek.”
“That’s right.” She couldn’t help but smile. She hadn’t been sure she’d ever hear his voice again. “Eight days ago, you and I were on vacation at the Black Canyon. We wanted to climb Painted Wall. Do you remember?”
He pondered that, a sad expression coming over his face. “Nnno.”
“We were just beneath the Roofs of Mordor, a big overhang, when a huge flake of rock broke off. It hit the overhang and shattered. One of the pieces struck your helmet, fractured your skull, a vertebra in your neck, and your clavicle. You had a hematoma on your brain. You’ve been in a coma since then, and for a while, it looked like you might die. Do you understand all that?”
He stared at her as if she were talking about someone else.
Then Megs had an idea. She hit the call button. “Hey, it’s Megs Hill. Can someone bring us a mirror? Yes, a mirror. Thanks.”
Mitch’s expression told Megs that none of this made any sense to him.
She squeezed his hand. “You’ll see.”
A few moments later, a nurse she hadn’t met walked in with a hand mirror. “Here you go. Just call me when you’re done.”
Megs held it so that Mitch could see himself. “The falling rock hit your head and fractured your skull. They had to do a craniectomy to remove the hematoma, stop the bleeding, and save your life. That bit of your cranium is what’s stitched into your abdomen. Yeah, I know. That’s completely insane.”
He stared at his reflection, reaching with one hand to touch the collar, then the bandages on his clavicle, and then his head. Finally, his gaze moved to Megs, and he made sounds that weren’t words but conveyed shock and sadness.
Then the sounds coalesced, became her name. “Mmmek.”
She lowered the mirror, set it aside, and held him as best she could. She knew she would probably have to tell him all of this many times in the days ahead, but that was okay. “I know it must be scary and confusing to wake up and not know how you got here. You had a traumatic brain injury, and for days I thought I was going to lose you.”
Enough with the dark stuff.
