91. Tyler

369 10 0
                                    

Samantha's attitude improved immensely after the 'funeral'. To the point that she called her stump Patrick. As in Patrick Stump. Get it?

She hadn't fully accepted the reality of having lost her leg, but she was getting there. I mean, she cracked a stump joke.

But now she's got pneumonia. The doctor told us it's not uncommon. She's just started to get mobile and even still isn't as mobile as she'd been before the surgery. I feel horrible because she's burning up with fever and seems uncomfortable. That is, when she has the energy to be awake. Poor kid. All she's done today is sleep. We were able to coax her to eat some breakfast but she fell asleep halfway through. When she does sleep she's often woken up by coughing spasms that tire her out even more.

The doctors are throwing everything they've got at it and Sam's fever is slowly coming down. But she's still feeling crappy and I hate how poorly she's feeling. She's so not herself when she's this sick.

After a couple of days, Sam's fever broke and she slept the day away pretty much. By the end of the week, her lungs were clear again and she was visibly feeling much better.

"Hey sweetheart!" I said in the morning when I came into her room. Brendon had stayed the night with her and was dozing in a chair, his feet up on Sam's bed. He startled when I walked in.

"I'm up. Sam's okay. Sam, you're okay, right?"

Sam laughed. It was so good to hear her laugh again.

"I'm fine Uncle B. You're the one who was sleeping." 

"Just resting my eyes," he said.

"And exercising your vocal cords?" Sam asked. "You snore."

"Do not," Brendon said. Sam smirked at him.

"Do too."

I sent Brendon to go get a coffee. He'd probably head home later.

"How're you feeling, baby cakes?" I asked Sam.

"Not too bad," she said, giving me a hug.

"Did you have breakfast?" I asked.

"If you could call that breakfast," she grimaced.

"That bad?" I asked. She nodded.

"Want me to go to the cafeteria and get you something?"

"Maybe later," she said. "I ate most of it. And no one can ruin Cheerios. Well, unless they'd brought them already in the milk."

"Okay," I said, kissing her head and hugging her again. She picked up the book she'd been reading and coughed. She still had a bit of a cough, but it sounded so much better. And she could sleep at night again. Her energy wasn't quite back up but it had only been a couple of days.

The doctors had told us they'd hold off on physio until they were certain Sam was much better. Not much point trying to strengthen her arms and back when she couldn't stay awake a full day still.

But she was improving and even venturing out of bed on her own. She tried using her crutches, but she was still pretty weak, so she compromised and used a wheelchair, but would push herself as much as she could. It was nice to leave the four walls of her room. And even venture downstairs from time to time. The more she went around people, the more she noticed most people didn't pay attention to her leg. Or lack there of. Some people looked. Little kids sometimes stared and one little boy with a bald head and a nasogastric tube came up to Sam and asked her where her leg was. She handled it so well. But when the little boy was gone, her face fell and a tear fell from her eye.

"I hate this," she complained. "I want my leg back. I don't want the attention."

"Sweetheart," Jenna said, handing her the sandwich she'd picked up at the cafeteria. Sam didn't want the macaroni they'd brought her for lunch. "People are going to be curious. Most of them will be like that little boy. Curious and not intending any harm."

"I don't like attention," she said.

"I know, baby," Jenna said.

Sam was a very private person. Usually we were able to keep her protected and out of the public eye for the most part. But right now, people in the hospital noticed she was navigating on one leg someway or the other. Samantha was very self-conscious and thought everyone was staring. The more we got her out of her room and manoeuvring around, the more she realized very few people paid much attention.

"School won't be this easy," she said. "People are going to stare."

"Maybe. But don't forget, you also started high school during a court case where a lot of personal info got out. Then you got into a big car crash that made the news. This isn't that different. You're just missing a bit of you."

Sam looked at me incredulously.

"'Missing a bit of me'? Dad, it's a whole ass leg!"

"Hey, it's only three quarters of a leg. You still have most of your thigh."

She wasn't impressed. But instead of the screaming fit I might have gotten before, I got an eye roll and a smirk.

"Patrick," she said.

"Yeah. Patrick," I said, smirking.

"No, Dad," she said pointing up the hallway. "Patrick."

And there he was. Coming down the hallway, with a smile on his face and a gift bag in his hand.

"Hey there, Joseph family. What's going on?"

"What are you doing here?" Sam asked, returning Patrick's hug.

"Well, Brendon told Pete, who told me, that you'd lost your leg and everything that happened. I was working on a few things but once I finished, I came out here to visit on behalf of the guys. How are you doing?"

Sam shrugged.

"I'm okay," she said.

"Yeah?" He asked, looking at me. I nodded.

"We had a bit of a hard time at first, but, Sam's been doing amazing," I said.

"I heard something about a funeral?" Patrick said, looking confused.

Sam told Patrick the story. We all laughed.

Sam was tiring, so I pushed her back to her room and helped her get settled in bed.

"Hey, Uncle Patrick," Sam said, as she arranged her stump on the pillow she'd been resting it on in bed. She said it was more comfortable. "Meet Patrick."

She pointed at her stump.

"Patrick? You named your leg after me?"

"Not exactly..." Sam said, waiting to see if he'd get it.

"Your..." then realization came into his face. "Stump. Very good. Patrick stump."

He laughed. Sam smiled. It was so nice to see her smile. Those first few days we weren't sure we'd ever see that smile.

Finally HomeWhere stories live. Discover now