“Yes,” I answered, my belly tightening.
Dr. Beck pulled out an X-ray film from a large envelope he’d been holding in his clipboard. He clipped it onto a small light-up box against the wall. “I didn’t want to overload you with so much at once,” he explained as I looked at the image. “But I need to let you know.”
He pointed to a place in what looked like my arm bone. It wasn’t straight like I imagined it should be. It was slightly crooked, as if it had been broken and then the bone fused back together, but not quite right.
“At one point, your arm just below your elbow had been broken. It’s obvious no medical attention was given because of the way it healed.” He pointed to the part I’d been looking at. “The proper term for this is a malunion, meaning the bone healed, but not correctly.”
“Okay, so what do I need to do?” I asked, staring at the X-ray, trying to imagine what could have happened.
“Well, to fix something like this, we would need to re-break the bone and then set it properly.”
“No!” I said, surging up. “No more hospitals.” No more pain.
He didn’t seem at all surprised and nodded. “I figured you would say that, which is why I haven’t brought it up. The arm still works just fine. It may be a little weaker than the other. Does the left arm cause you pain at all?”
“No,” I said, glancing down at it. Again, I marveled at how so much was wrong inside my body that no one could see.
“I would advise just leaving it, then. It’s not ideal, but given the situation, I think it’s best.”
If they said “given the situation” one more time, I might scream. “Well, given the situation,” I said sarcastically, “I agree.”
He ignored my annoyance. “I just wanted to make you aware and let you know if it ever becomes a problem or you notice increased weakening of the arm to come in and see me.”
“I will.” I promised. “Thank you.”
Dr. Beck took down the film and put it away. Before leaving, he said, “I have to tell you, you have by far been my most intriguing patient. What’s happened to you is extremely rare, and I just wanted you to know I’ve done everything I can to help you. Although I admit sometimes I felt I was just flying by the seat of my pants.”
“Ah, so you know how it feels to be me, then,” I cracked. Then I smiled warmly and slipped off the bed. “For the record, you’re the best doctor I’ve ever had.”
“You can’t remember the others,” he reminded me.
I laughed. “Not true. Dr. Kline might be very hurt over my declaration.”
He chuckled. “Yes. Well, I’ll be sure not to tell her.”
“Thank you.” My voice was sincere. “I truly do appreciate everything this hospital has done to help me.”
“I’ll see you at your follow-up in a few weeks,” he said, offering his hand.
I slipped mine in and we shook.
When he was gone, a little bit of sadness washed over me. I knew I didn’t really know these people; they weren’t my friends or anything. I was just their job. But it still felt as if I were leaving behind the only people I knew.
I went to the window and stared out for a while, watching the clouds move through the sky and wondering what was behind the trees and parking lot.
So many unknowns…
“You ready to blow this joint?” Eddie sang, bursting into my room as if he lived here.
Swinging around from the window, I smiled. It was hard not to when Eddie was around. “Hey.”
Blue eyes swept me from head to toe. When they finally settled on my face, his dimples deepened. “You look good today.”
I glanced down at myself. I was wearing a pair of jeans that felt worn in and soft. Likely because they were secondhand and tattered. I wasn’t sure where Maggie found the clothes she brought me; I just knew they’d come from people in town. With the jeans, I’d put on a white T-shirt that was loose, and over, I was wearing Eddie’s zip-up hoodie because it was cool outside.
I had one pair of shoes, sneakers. They actually looked just like Eddie’s (all white with blue stripes down the side). They were Adidas. At least that’s what the label said. The shoes were new, a gift I suspected were from him (that would explain why they were the same), even though he never told me he bought them.
It felt a little strange that nothing I owned I picked out myself. Like I was piecing myself together with things other people said and gave me. The thought created sorrow inside me, I wanted to know myself. Be myself. Discover the things I liked.
You can do that now. Starting today.
Eddie cleared his throat, reminding me of the compliment. “Thank you,” I said, nervously running my hand through my hair. My uneven, choppy hair. Something else that reminded me I had no idea about myself.
Surely I hadn’t done this to myself. No one could think it looked good.
A mental picture of a huge chunk of dark, golden hair falling to a bare floor struck me. Woozy with the force of the image, I swayed a little.
“Hey,” Eddie said, rushing forward, wrapping an arm around my waist from the side. “You okay?”
I blinked, leaned against him just one moment longer, then stood. “Oh yeah, I’m fine. Just got a little dizzy.”
He frowned. “Is that because of the concussion?”
“I think it’s just because I’m a little overwhelmed.”
He nodded, understanding in his gaze. “Wanna hold my hand?”
I laughed and nodded. I always wanted to hold his hand.
“This all your stuff?” he asked, pointing to a bag on the bed. It was an LL Bean backpack, dark blue with brown straps.
“That’s all of it,” I said. Everything I owned fit in just one bag.
Pulling me along, Eddie snatched up the bag and slung it over his shoulder. “You ready? Maggie’s probably waiting.”
I glanced around the room, an odd feeling coming over me. This wasn’t home. I wasn’t leaving some place I’d grown up or even had fond memories of.
Still, this place was all I had.
“Yeah,” I echoed, forcing my eyes back to him. “Let’s go.”
Eddie led me to the door, held it open, and gestured for me to go ahead. In the hall, I didn’t go far because we were still connected. I stared into my room as the door slowly swung closed, watching it disappear inch by inch.
“It’s gonna be okay, Am,” Eddie murmured, leaning close and kissing the top of my head.
Briefly, my eyes closed. I sighed. When he pulled back, our stares connected. “You got this,” he told me.
I smiled.
The hall was quiet as we walked down. Actually, it was bare. It gave me an odd sense of déjà vu from the night I was almost strangled. Where were the nurses? Dr. Kline? The fact that no one was here to even wave good-bye hit me hard. It reminded me that just because these people had literally been my entire life, it didn’t make me the same to them.
These people all had families and friends. Others they looked forward to seeing. People who weren’t just their job.
I stumbled a bit as I walked, and Eddie’s hand tightened around mine.
“C’mon, slowpoke,” he urged, pulling me around the corner toward the elevator.