Sammi's World

Fixing Sammi

Dad and Dean arrived just as the doctor was getting ready to take me into surgery. "What's going on?" Dad asked. "Sam said you started throwing up blood?" "I need another surgery," I said. "A blood clot formed around the hole where the bullet was. The doctor said it's an easy fix." "Good grief, princess," Dean remarked. "You can't catch a break, can you?" "I'll be fine," I promised. "Whatever gets rid of this pain. I want to be able to enjoy my meals again." "Are you ready?" the doctor asked. "As ready as I'll ever be," I admitted. The men said their goodbyes as the doctor wheeled me out the door and toward the OR. Once in the OR, I joked with the doctor, "I feel like I was just here." He smiled and said, "Let's hope this is the last time for a really long while." The anesthesiologist placed a mask over my face and I drifted off to sleep. I woke up about two hours later, back in my hospital room, all three men at my side. "Welcome back, pumpkin," Dad said. "How long was I out?" I asked. "About an hour," Dean answered. "The surgery only took about an hour. The doctor said it was a success and you should be able to eat and drink normally again in about three days." "And what am I supposed to do in the meantime?" I asked. "Starve?" "You're going to be here for the next three days," Sam said. "They're going to give you water, start off slow. And I'm going to stay here with you." "You don't have to do that," I told him. "We already had this discussion," Dean said. "You're not going to win." "I'm going to stay around town for the next three days," Dad said. "Might even hang at your place with Dean, keep him company." "That's fine with me," I told him. "Did you let Marissa know what's going on?" "Of course I did," Dad said. "She said she hopes you feel better soon." I grabbed for my cup of water and took a sip. "Not to be mean, but I'm still feeling a little tired from the anesthesia," I told the boys. "Don't say another word," Dad said. "Let's head back to the house, shall we Dean?" Dean kissed my forehead and said, "Feel better, princess. See you tomorrow." Dad followed suit and the two of them left the room. Sam gave me a kiss and said, "Get some sleep, baby. You've had one hell of a day." He took a seat in the chair next to my bed and turned on the television. "There's one more thing I need before I go to sleep," I told him. He turned to me and said, "What's that?" Without speaking, I put my hand down on the bed and started patting the spot next to me, hoping he would catch on. He smiled that gorgeous smile of his and carefully climbed up beside me, wrapping his arm around me. I laid my head on his chest and fell asleep shortly after. I woke up the next morning feeling somewhat refreshed, but noticed I was alone. Had Sam snuck out in the middle of the night to go home? I honestly wouldn't have blamed him; if I wasn't recovering from surgery, I wouldn't want to be at the hospital either. I went to reach for my cup of water, but the cup and the pitcher were gone. I was about to ring the bell for assistance when Sam came walking in with a tray of stuff, including my water pitcher. "Good morning, sweetie," he said. "How'd you sleep?" "Pretty good, actually," I told him. "I feel a little better already." "I took the liberty of refilling your water for you," he said. "I also got you a new cup AND the doctor said that you could have some jello, since it's technically liquid." "Awesome," I said with a smile. "I wanted to thank you for staying with me while I recover. You could have gone home, but you didn't." "I love you, baby," he replied. "You'd do the same for me." "Damn right I would," I said. "I can't believe I have to wait two more days to go home and snuggle in our own bed." "Just be thankful it wasn't a week or more," Sam replied. "Been there, done that." He sat down in the chair and handed me the cup of jello while he enjoyed a donut and some coffee. A nurse came in to check my vitals, which she claimed were great for someone who just had surgery. She wrote everything down on my chart and then excused herself from the room. I prayed that the next two days went by just as fast as the first night had. Of course my dad and Dean came by each day to see how I was feeling, and each day I told them I was fine and just wanted to go home and be able to eat solid food again. By the third day, I was so happy to finally be leaving that I literally jumped up off the bed and ran for the door. In honor of my arrival back home, Dad had cooked a meatloaf, mashed potatoes, corn, and green beans. It honestly felt so good to be able to eat again and not have to worry about running to the bathroom five minutes later. My stomach still hurt, that was true, but only because it was going to take some time for me to heal from this latest surgery. Later that night, after Dad had left and Dean had gone to bed, I was laying in bed waiting for Sam to join me. When he finally did, I laid my head on his chest and jokingly said, "That doctor is going to get so tired of seeing us one of these days." "Funny thing you should say that, because I think the same thing every time one of us winds up there," he replied. "I think this is the first time we've been there this many times in such a short span," I said. "Between the gunshot wound, your being drugged, and then this. How are you feeling, by the way?" "I'm actually fine," he told me. "It doesn't even feel like I was ever sick. Which works out in your favor because I can concentrate on helping you heal." "I'm just glad I can eat again," I said. "Drinking only water and eating jello is for the birds." He hugged me tight, kissed my forehead, and we fell asleep in each other's arms.