“I’m sorry you had to wait so long.”
“It’s okay, really.”
She touches my arm and rubs gently. It’s a small gesture, but my body instantly relaxes a bit, knowing that she will take care of me like a doctor is supposed to. “It sounds like your leg is broken from the report I got from the guards who brought you in. Do you have any other pain or injuries?”
I shake my head. “No, it’s just my leg and a bunch of scrapes and bruises.”
“You got very lucky. Not many people walk away from a helicopter crash like that.”
Dr. Lauren starts her examination, checking my head for any bumps. My eyes, mouth, and throat also get a good look, as well as the rest of me. She is extremely thorough, and I appreciate it. When she’s finished, she calls for a nurse and one of the guards.
“We’re going to get an x-ray done. It doesn’t appear she has any other trauma, which is a miracle considering what she went through.” The doctor gestures to the guard and nurse. “Help her into the wheelchair and bring her back and put her in room four when you’re done.”
I’m not prepared for the adventure they take me on, and I use the word adventure lightly because it’s anything but that. Neither the guard nor the nurse seem to care about my wellbeing as they manhandle me onto the x-ray table and back in the wheelchair.
After the x-ray is done and they confirm that my leg is broken, they take me back to an exam room.
“I’m going to help you put a gown on, and then we’re going to put an IV in.”
I blink slowly. “I didn’t think I’d need an IV.”
The nurse half-smiles. “Believe me, it’s for the best. You’re dehydrated, and we do not need a repeat from last time. We’re going to put your leg in a cast, so they’ll be moving you around a lot. Plus, they have to align the bones. It’s just easier if we give you some meds that will knock you out.”
Uneasiness coats my insides, and while I want to tell her I don’t want to be put to sleep, I don’t think I have much choice, so I let her do what needs doing. After I’m in the gown and she places the IV in my arm, the doctor finally comes back.
“As the nurse told you, we’re going to give you some meds to calm you and put you to sleep. When you wake, the cast will be on, and the bone will be aligned. It should heal nicely with no complications.”
“Okay, how long am I going to be asleep?” The idea of being put to sleep, even if it is for a medical procedure, makes me queasy, as it leaves me vulnerable.
The doctor’s features harden. “As long as it needs to take, Aspen. We need to make sure the cast is on properly and that the bone is lined up.”
I can only nod because if I speak, all that’s going to come out is more worries.
The doctor walks out of the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts, and I press my back against the hospital bed and stare up at the ceiling, doing my best to take a couple of calming breaths so I don’t hyperventilate.
My thoughts drift to Quinton, and I wonder how he’s doing, if he’s in pain? I should worry about myself, but I can’t help but care, can’t help but wonder if he’s okay? He saved my life. It’s the human thing to do.
The nurse walks into the room, and I spot the syringe in her hand. My entire body tenses.
“Relax, sweetheart, it’s going to be fine,” she says as she injects the clear liquid into my IV.
My chest heaves with the effort to calm myself as a strange sensation of warmth envelopes my body. I rest back against the thin mattress once more, my muscles relaxing as the medicine takes effect. I’m vaguely aware of the nurse leaving again.
The exhaustion from the crash and being out in the wilderness catches up with me almost instantly when combined with the medicine she administered. I try my best to keep my eyes open, to avoid falling asleep in a school where everyone hates me, and I don’t have the protection of my four dorm room walls, but I can’t.
Soon my eyes drift closed, and I drown in the sensation of sleep. I try to swim to the surface, but there is no evading the darkness, and soon I’m dragged down into the depths.
The next time I wake up, my mouth is dry, and my leg is aching. I groan and blink my eyes open slowly. For a half a second, I’m disoriented by the room. It’s like I never left the place I fell asleep, but when I look down at my leg, I see the cast and know that can’t be possible. The door to my room is ajar, but there isn’t a doctor or nurse in sight.