Page 76 of Body Check

twenty-seven

. . .

Jason

Everything is hazy. I don’t like it.

Pain dances at the periphery of my mind, held back only by the strong drugs the IV pumps into my system. This isn’t my first surgery—isn’t even the first emergency surgery.

But it is the first time I’m not terrified.

If this is the end for me… I’ll deal with it. Eventually. After the operation, I’m sure I’ll need recovery time before starting physical therapy, and then time to regain normal function… I’ll can worry about all of that later. After I wake up from surgery. After I see the doctor.

For now, I’m taking it a minute at a time. Amelia is curled up on a chair beside me, her hand in mine while she dozes. It’s close to two o’clock in the morning, and there’s no telling when they’ll wheel me back for pre-op.

A nurse came by and helped me clean up a bit, so at least I’m not disgusted by my own stink anymore. I texted my mom the news, but she didn’t respond—it’s past her bedtime, so she’ll probably see it when she wakes up.

Finally, close to four o’clock in the morning, an orderly and a nurse come to take me to pre-op. Amelia stirs, her eyes blinking open.

“Is it time?” she asks, her voice hoarse with sleep.

The nurse nods. “It’ll be about two and a half hours. I’ll show you to the waiting room.”

My girlfriend stands, smoothing back my hair. “This is will go well. I’ll see you after.”

I love you. I almost say the words. But it’s a reflex. Something to say when a scary thing happens.

It’s too soon. I’m not in love with her, not yet. Am I?

Now isn’t the time to figure it out.

“I’ll be here when you get out,” Amelia says. She presses a kiss to my forehead. “You’ll do great.”

I squeeze her hand, pulling her to me until she’s close enough that I can kiss her for real.

“I—”

She nods. “It’ll be okay.”

But I shake my head. “No, I—” The words die in my throat. I can’t verbalize it. Gulping, I try again. The words won’t come.

“I know,” she whispers. She kisses me again. “I’ll be here when you get out.”

The nurse clears her throat. “It’s time to go.”

Amelia steps back. I blow out a breath and transfer to the wheelchair.

The orderly is silent as she wheels me through the hospital. It’s not my first rodeo, that’s for sure. After a few times under the knife, the fear dulls somewhat, but the pain is as sharp as ever.

Time becomes a little hazy. Before long, they take me into the operating room and helping me onto the table. The last thing I remember before they give me the good drugs is Dr. Hudson leaning over me.

“It’ll be okay, son,” he says. “Just a quick nap, and you’ll be better than ever.”

And then they pump the meds into my system, and I’m out like a light.

I wake up disoriented. The hospital room is unfamiliar, yet looks like every other hospital room I’ve ever been in. A machine beeps steadily, and there’s an IV taped to my hand. My leg is numb. That’s good. It will probably hurt like a bitch when the meds wear off.

There’s a soft snuffling beside me, and I glance over to find Amelia contorted on the small sofa. Her Kindle is beside her, teetering on the edge of the cushion, like it’s about to fall off.