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My ribs hurt the most now, which was probably a good sign that the rest of me had stopped hurting, that the pain was mostly gone. My heart and chest were still tender, and it helped to keep my breaths measured.
But the doctor was happy with my progress.
“Get some sleep,” he said. Then before he turned to leave, he nodded at the balloons. “Someone has a sense of humour.”
I smiled. “Yes, he does.”
Sleep didn’t come easy, as tired as I was. I could doze off well enough, though my mind kept returning to my earlier realisation.
My fulminology days were over.
I still had my job, of course. And I would always love meteorology. But I couldn’t risk another strike injury.
Not that I’d risked myself this time. And maybe that was what annoyed me the most. I hadn’t run out into a clearing in the midst of electrical activity. I hadn’t wrapped myself in foil, as Tully had once suggested, to go and stand out in a storm with a death wish.
I’d simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Like my mother had been.
I wasn’t sure what it meant for me and Tully.
He loved storm chasing. He’d lost previous relationships because of his commitment to it. He’d spent weekends and every holiday out in the wilderness to simply be in any storm he could find.
And he’d said that he couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have someone he could share that with.
But what if he could no longer share that with me?
Sometime in the middle of the night, my nurse came in with a frown. She checked my machines. “Everything okay?” she asked. “Your heart’s a little fast; blood pressure’s on the rise.”
“I’m okay,” I said. “Just thinking.”
“Thinking or worrying?”
I snorted.
“All you’re doing is adding stress on your heart. So how about we try and sleep instead?”
“Hm.”
She gave me a smile. “No worrying allowed. Or I’ll tell that gorgeous husband of yours.”
That made me smile.Husband.“No tattletales, please.”
Happy with the machines and whatever output I was now showing, she patted my arm. “Get some sleep. You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”
An ultrasound, with hopefully good findings. Maybe moving to another ward.
And my father’s arrival.
A big day indeed.
* * *
Tully’s brightand smiling face greeted me after breakfast. He planted a kiss on my forehead, then my cheek. “What did they make you eat?”
“Cold toast and black tea.”
He made a face. “Christ.”
