The doors from the OR opened, and Dr. Schwartz walked out, a broad smile on his face. “It’s done. It went well. It was completely textbook.”
He motioned Megs to a private room to talk.
Rain said goodbye, leaving all the materials she’d picked up with Megs. “Let us know how it’s going.”
“Thanks, Rain.” Megs hugged her and then followed Dr. Schwartz, remembering the last time she’d stepped into this particular room with him. They hadn’t known then whether Mitch would survive. “How’s he doing?”
“He’s doing really well. As you know, it’s early to be doing a cranioplasty. Most doctors wait for the three-to-six-month mark. But there are a host of complications that are lessened in cases where we can perform cranioplasty early.”
He explained how he’d used the bone he’d removed from Mitch’s cranium along with a custom-made titanium plate to cover the small area where the bone had shattered. “It’s a serious surgery and comes with several significant risks, possibly the greatest of which in his case is infection. He’s getting IV vancomycin, and, of course, we still have him on anti-seizure meds. We’ll keep him in ICU for the next couple of days and then move him back to the neurology floor. If all goes well, we should be ready to transfer him to an acute rehab facility next week. Have you picked one out?”
“We were thinking of the Front Range Rehabilitation Hospital.”
“That would be my choice for him, as well.”
That was reassuring.
“Can I go see him?”
“He’s still in recovery. I’ll have someone come get you when he’s back in ICU.”
Once again, Megs found herself thanking Dr. Schwartz. “If you’re ever in Scarlet Springs, stop in at Knockers or come by The Cave—that’s what we call Team HQ.”
“Thanks. I might take you up on that.”
Mitch gradually becameaware of his surroundings. A persistent beep. Women’s voices.Hervoice. His own moans.
“Are you in pain?” Warm fingers held his hand.
He had a headache, and his abdomen hurt, too.
“I’ll get him some morphine.”
“Thanks, Debby.”
What had happened? Had he fallen again? He had fallen—or maybe it had been a rock. He couldn’t remember. He’d been in the hospital.
“Here’s the morphine.”
When he opened his eyes later, he found Megs sitting beside him.
“Hey, handsome. The surgery was a success. Your skull is back on your head and out of your abdominal wall.”
What thehellwas she saying?
“Dr. Schwartz said it went well.” She smiled. “You’ve got a little titanium plate, too. I guess I can call you a metalhead now.”
He couldn’t quite comprehend why that was funny.
“If all goes well, they’ll transfer you out of ICU tomorrow evening, and we’ll be able to move you to a rehabilitation facility in about a week.”
A rehabilitation facility.
Fear snaked through Mitch, cold and dark.
What was wrong with him? What if he never got better?
Before he could work out the answer, he was asleep once more.
