Lost girl (sasharcy)

Chapter 14

Marcy's POV:

I don't know how long I've been in the hospital. A few days.Four days. Maybe five. Six. Hell, I don't know. It felt like forever.

They ran tests. That's what they do in hospitals. They were checking to make sure I had no other internal injuries. Especially brain injuries. I had a neurologist come in and see me. I didn't like him. He had dark hair and really deep green eyes that always kept staring at me. He didn't seem to care. Either that or he cared too much. But the thing was, he wasn't very good with people. He didn't talk to me very much. He took a lot of notes.

I learned that nurses liked to make small talk and were in love with with taking your vitals. That's what they did. They gave you a pill to help you sleep, then they woke you up all night. Shit. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to sleep and wake to see that my casts were gone. That's what I told one of the nurses. "Can't you just put me to sleep and wake me up when they take my casts off?"

"Very funny," the nurse said.

Yeah. Very funny.

I remember this one thing: My room was full of flowers. Flowers from Mr. and Mrs. Boonchuy. Flowers from my dad. Flowers from Sasha.
Flowers from Anne. Flowers. Shit. I never had an opinion about flowers until then. I decided I didn't like them.

I sort of liked my surgeon. He was all about sports injuries. He was nice. He talked a lot. He was good with people. He was the opposite of the neurologist.

Dr. Charles. That was his name. He knew what he was doing. A good guy. Yeah, that's what I thought. He answered all my questions.

And I had lots of them.

"Do I have to use a wheelchair ?"

"Yes."

"Permanently?"

"Maybe."

"And I won't have to come back after this?"

"Hope not."

"Big talker, huh, Doc?"

He laughed. "You're a tough, huh?"

"I don't think I'm so tough."

"Well, I think you are tough. I think you're tough as hell."

"Yeah?"

"I've been around."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Really, Marcy. Can I tell you something?"

"Call me Marce."

"Marce." He smiled. "I'm surprised at how well you held up during the operation. And I'm surprised how well you're doing right now. It's amazing really."

"I guess I was lucky." I said. "When am I going to stop feeling like crap?"

"In no time."

"No time? Am I going to be hurting and itching for eight weeks?"

"It'll get better."

"Sure. And how come, if my legs were broken below the knee, my casts are above the knee?"

"I just want to keep you still for two or three weeks. I don't want you to be bending. Might hurt yourself again. After a few weeks, I'll change your casts. Then you'll be able to bend your legs."

"Shit."

"Shit?"

"A few weeks?"

"We'll give it three weeks."

"Three weeks without bending my legs?"

"It's not such a long time."

"I have an important internship to go."