Subjects

57 - Not So Happy Feet

For someone else on the other side of the continent, things haven't been going much better.

Jeff wakes up to the sound of arguing. Believe it or not, this is actually better than his normal wake up. Usually it is the pain that wakes him up, or the nightmares. He hasn't been having such great sleep as you can see.

So, about that arguing that I mentioned. Jeff opens his eyes and looks at the ceiling, he is too tired to sit up and his throat is so dry that he feels like calling the nurse will be more than he can handle. He just listens to the argument happening right at the entrance of his room.

"Come on, you can't give me this room!"

"What's wrong with the room?" Jeff recognizes that voice all too well. It is the nurse that talks too much.

"I've been here enough to know that this is the room you give to the ones you want to get rid of!"

"Mr. Meredith, please. We don't want to get rid of anyone. Why would you think that?"

"Are you telling me that this room looks okay to you? Look at the window, it's tiny! And there is barely any room to breath in here."

"But all of the rooms are the same!"

"No, they are not! Room number 5 is my usual room. Take me there!"

"I'm sorry but room 5 is taken. Listen, I will go get Dr. O'hara and we will settle this whole thing, alright?"

"No! Wait, you can't leave me here! Nurse!"

By the sound of it, Mr. Meredith is trying to turn his wheelchair around and follow her (Jeff knows all about how wheelchairs squeak from weeks of being in one). He decides to finally get up and greet his new roommate, or tell him to shut up. Whatever he feels like doinh at the moment.

Jeff reaches to the handle at the side of his bed. He pulls and tries to lift himself up so the head of his bed rises. The whole process is very painful and takes about a minute or two. By the time Jeff is done he doesn't really feel like talking or moving ever again. He still makes one last move to reach for the cup of water on his bedside table. He brings it to his mouth and prepares for the precious liquid to cure his hurting throat but his cup is empty.

"Great, just perfect," Jeff mutters, his throat is too dry to create actual words.

"Hi, I'm not exactly leaping with joy either but you can at least spare a hello."

It is Mr. Meredith. He sits in his wheelchair with his arms crossed after giving up trying to chase the nurse.

"Who are you?" Mr. Meredith asks when Jeff says nothing. "You're not one of the usual ones."

"The usual ones?" Jeff puts the cup back on his table and makes an attempt at talking. "What is this hospital, a country club?"

Mr. Meredith frowns. If the hospital were indeed a country club, he'd be the president. "Listen, kid, I go to this hospital since before you were even born. I saw seven different managers of this place. I know the person that gets you painkillers and the person that changes your sheets."

Jeff chuckles. "You said painkillers?"

"That's right. Who are you, then?"

"Deck Cadet Jeffers."

"Navy?" Mr. Meredith sounds surprised.

"Was, at least until this happened," Jeff motions to what remains of his leg.

"Ooff, how did that happen?"

"I'm not supposed to talk about it, actually."

Mr. Meredith lifts his eyebrow. "Why'd you end up here, then?"

"Not supposed to talk about that, either," Jeff gets angry thinking about it. How his Captain tried to cover up the whole incident, how he would have died on the ship if it weren't for Ben and his friends. "There was an accident," Jeff suddenly says. "They wanted to cover it up so they won't get me medical treatment. So I ran away. The staff here doesn't know, they stopped asking at some point."

"You ran away?" Mr. Meredith examines the state of Jeff's leg.

"I had help."

Mr. Meredith nods. "My brother was in the Navy. He was a good guy."

Dr. O'hara walks into the room. "Alright, Mr. Meredith, what seems to be the problem?"

Mr. Meredith looks between Jeff and the Doctor. "This room is no good. Look at him," he points to Jeff. "He can barely breath in this place. How are you expecting him to heal in this state? Or anyone, for that matter? The board will hear about this!"

"No, no. I'm sure there's no need for that," Dr. O'hara says. "What can I do to help?"

"Move us to room number 5!"

Within no longer than five minutes, the previous occupants of room 5 were out and Jeff and Mr. Meredith took their place. Mr. Meredith wasn't kidding, room number 5 really is the best room. Jeff already feels better just looking out the window and feeling the light wind brush his face.

Mr. Meredith turns out to be the best roommate Jeff could have asked for. He got them the freshest food, the most trips out to the garden and the quietest sleep at night. He may still wake up at night, screaming about some creature coming to get him, but Jeff is getting better. His wounds are healing and his throat no longer feels like the dessert in the mornings.

One of the days Dr. O'hara walks into room 5 to talk to Jeff.

"I think that this is a good time for you to start considering the option of prosthetics."

"Prosthetics?" This is a word Jeff never thought he'd have to hear.

"Yes," Dr. O'hara says. "This is not exactly my area of expertise but I have a friend in Portland who has a company that deals with it. I can set up a meeting so he can explain the whole thing to you."

"Prosthetics," Jeff is still shocked.

"He's interested," Mr. Meredith says. "Aren't you, Jeff?"

"I guess."

"Great!" Dr. O'hara walks out.

"As much as I like you as my roommate," Mr. Meredith says. "You need to move on with your life, Jeff. You still have so much ahead of you. This hospital is no place for you to be."

And so he does. Over the next week Jeff meets the friend from Portland, aka prosthetic Paul (as Jeff and Mr. Meredith call him). At the end of the week Jeff agrees to move to the company's labs in Portland and try the new prosthetic leg that Paul and his team developed. According to Paul, the new kind of technology used in the leg should help Jeff walk again in no longer than two months.

On Monday the next week, Mr. Meredith sits out in the lobby to get some fresh air. The room seems far too big now that Jeff is gone. He waves at the postman as he walks in.

"Mr. Meredith, how are you?"

"You know, as always."

"Maybe you can help me with these letters, you know everybody in the hospital," the postman shows him the pile of cards.

"Of course, let me see," Mr. Meredith starts shuffling through the pile. "Margorie is in room number 3 and Rob is the new nurse, he should be at the back. Oh, this is not good."

"What is it?"

Mr. Meredith takes one letter out of the pile. "This guy left, only days ago."

"Well, I'll have it mailed back to the source."

"No, it's alright, I'll handle this," Mr. Meredith says.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course, it's no trouble."

When the postman walks away Mr. Meredith looks at the white envelope with Jeff's name written in large, child-like letters.