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I felt a sigh escape my lungs.
“That’s wonderful news!” Alex said, practically bouncing in the seat next to me.
“But,” the doctor continued, “you do have quite a significant grade two concussion. You’re in for a bit of recovery.”
“So what, resting?”
He nodded, mouth dropping open. “Yeah. For starters.”
“I mean, I can take a couple of days off, but I have to get the practice ready. It’s in shambles and I’m supposed to open next week.”
“Yeah well, you won’t be doing that.”
“What?”
“Hannah, I don’t need to tell you how important it is to take your recovery seriously. It could have long-term impact. Traumatic brain injuries are no joke.”
“How is this happening?” I grumbled, feeling sick to my stomach again. I could afford to put the opening off financially—barely—but the furry residents of Moon Harbor have been without a vet for almost a month now. I really didn’t want to push it off any further.
“Now, Hannah, I’m sure we can work something out,” Alex said, her voice adopting a soothing quality that might have helped calm me down on any other day. She looked at Dr. Espinosa. “What exactly is the protocol here?”
“Complete rest during the acute stage. Two days, at least. That means stay in bed. Don’t get up at all if you don’t have to. I’d like you to get three days of rest, but see how you feel after two. At that point, you can start slowly returning to gentle activity. Showers, light cooking, short walks. Nothing more strenuous than that. No screens or loud music for the first two days either, but they’ll likely make you sick if you even try.”
“Ugh.” This was getting worse with each passing second. Fate was kicking me in the butt again. “This is all a bit much. I have a lot on my to-do list this week.”
“She has movers coming in a few days,” Alex said.
“Well, they can drop things off, but Hannah won’t be unpacking for a while.”
“How about we see how I feel by then?”
The doctor rolled his eyes in a way I could only describe as fatherly annoyance. “No strenuous activity. It’ll take a week or two before you can work up to anything more than what I’ve already stated.”
“This is the worst time for all this.”
“Is there ever a good time for a TBI?”
Oh, so Dr. Espinosa was a smart ass? I supposed I admired that about him. “Touché.”
“Now, onto immediate directions. I’m happy enough with your scan that I won’t admit you,” he said as I audibly sighed in relief. “As long as you have someone who can look after you.”
“Dammit.”
“She lives alone,” Alex whispered as if it were a dirty secret. I would have laughed if I could without causing a hundred invisible hammers to attack my head.
“Well, can you look in on her? I really don’t recommend anyone being left alone for the first forty-eight hours.”
“No,” I answered for her. “Alex has already given up her evening to sit here with me. And we literally just met.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Really? ‘Cause you guys seem like best friends.”
“See, I told you,” Alex said with a satisfied smile.
“Regardless, I can’t impose any more than I already have.”
“You can. I don’t mind at all.”
“You really need to be resting the entire time. You might think you’re okay to get up and grab some water from the kitchen, but you could experience dizziness and collapse, or a resurgence of nausea.”
