Nurse Torres handed him a round of clean gauge.
Slowly and tenderly, he rewrapped her hand.
“Recovery will take time,” he replied. “You were in surgery for nearly twelve hours. It was very evasive. There will be pain. I won’t lie. We’ll do our very best to manage that for you. Daily and extensive therapy will be required, and a lot of patience and participation on your part.”
She gazed at the nurse by his side. The look of uncertainty mirrored on her face made Randi’s breath hitch.
“You still didn’t answer my question.
She tried to move her fingers. The pain was excruciating and she moaned loudly.
Nothing.There wasn’t even an iota of movement.
“No…” she whimpered. “Why can’t I move them?”
“Randi.”
Her name slipped from his lips with familiarity, surprising even him. He felt it immediately. He didn’t correct himself. It was too late for that, so he continued without missing a beat.
“Numbness is expected right now,” he said. “That doesn’t mean movement won’t come back.”
Tears filled her eyes and spilled over.
“I paint…” she whispered. “I need my hand… I can’t…”
Her breath shattered.
And before he could stop himself, Brew moved to lower himself atop the side of her mattress. He reached out his hand closing gently around her uninjured one.
“What matters most is you survived that horrific accident. Your hand suffered a horrendous trauma and needs time to recover and heal. In two weeks, I’ll remove your stitches. Depending how quickly you heal … generally between six and fourteen weeks, you’ll be able to return to light work and daily activities. Then, in three months intensive therapy to regain full strength and mobility will begin,” he replied softly.
A chill rippled through her body and she shuttered.
“But what if –“
He shook his head defensively and cut her off.
“Not in my vocabulary. I can’t answer the unknown. It’s up to how your body reacts to repairing itself, or whether an infection sets in, and if treatment combats it successfully. Your body and immune system are vulnerable. One step at a time.”
She no longer could control her tears.
“I’m … so … afraid. I have …no one,” she whimpered uncontrollably.
“You’re not alone. I promise. We’ll get through this together.”
She managed to lift herself off her pillow and cling to him, sobbing fearfully, her body shaking, as her tears streamed heavier down her cheeks, and wetting his sterile, white lab coat.
“I can’t lose it…”
He felt it deeply. It was a promise he wanted to make but couldn’t. Still, it became personal, felt right and familiar with her cradled in his arms. Instinctively his arms embraced her tighter and closer against his chest.
“You’re not going to face this alone.”
Again, the words left him before he could stop them.
Another line blurred.
But neither of them let go.
