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His stretcher came to an abrupt stop and Vaughan’s eyes were wide as saucers as he tried to take in everything around him. He said a quick prayer that he and Duke would both pull through. It was short and to the point. He wanted to raise his head but it felt heavy. He wanted to see everything happening around him, but the staff went on as if he wasn’t even there. He half-expected Duke to be right beside him, but he knew it didn’t work that way. Duke was in the next operating room over, or nearby, at least. His chest moved up and down rapidly and he tried desperately to calm himself. One wrong or bad alert from one of the many machines he was attached to and it could all be stopped. He felt the blood pressure cuff inflate again, squeezing his bicep. The nurse beside him called out some numbers that Vaughan didn’t understand. There was so much shit in the room, so much technical equipment that it made Vaughan dizzy. He didn’t dwell on his environment any longer when he saw a man’s face appear over his. He was older, if the crinkles next to his smoky gray eyes were any indication
“Vaughan. I’m Dr. Waynes. I’m the anesthesiologist. I’m going to place this mask over your face and I want you to take a few deep breaths and count down from one hundred. Can you do that?”
Vaughan nodded, but the mask was already being placed over his face. He wanted to follow exact directions because he couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that something would go wrong. Dr. Waynes looked over at a monitor near the head of Vaughan’s bed as he began to count in his head. One hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight. Dr. Chauncey’s eyes were staring down at him, his mouth and head completely covered. Dr. Chauncey was speaking to him but he barely was able to make it out while he counted. He had to follow directions. Ninety-seven, ninety-six, ninety—
“Duke. Duke. Duke.”
Duke frowned. Someone was calling him from very far away. He tried to focus his attention on hearing what Quick was saying, because that’s who he’d been talking to earlier. He thought. No. This person’s voice was not as deep as his friend’s. Duke fought through the grogginess, clawing his way back to reality. As he came closer and closer to the surface, his body began to ache in various places.
“Don’t try to move, Duke. Open your eyes.”
Who the hell is that? Duke’s eyelids fluttered as memories floated back to his consciousness. Surgery. Kidney.
“That’s it, Duke. Open your eyes.”
Duke forced his eyelids to move. It was hard, or at least it felt hard. God. Why was he feeling like this? Like he had a boulder sitting on his stomach. He soon realized that not only was he sore as hell, he was scared, too. Did the surgery work? Was his body feeling like this because it was rejecting the kidney? He’d read about that. Damnit. He was still going to die.
“Duke. Are you awake?”
He felt hands, then something tugging at his hospital gown and then the obvious feel of a stethoscope pressing on his chest before a female voice began rattling off his vitals.
“Duke.”
“Shh. What?” Duke finally croaked, annoyed and damn if that didn’t hurt. His throat was a fiery mess. Burned and ached all at the same time.
A quiet chuckle reached him. “What… what, is that I want you to wake up so I can tell you how great the surgery went and you have one very good functioning kidney and the other is not in as bad a shape as it was. You’re going to be all right, Duke. And no I won’t ‘Shh.’ I like to brag after an operation.”
Duke realized that it was Dr. Chauncey talking and when he finally dragged his eyelids open and kept them that way, he felt a small smile grace his lips in spite of his pain. He was going to live. Oh, god. Vaughan. He was going to have a shot at the hottest guy on the planet. But first he had to get out of the bed. “Sore,” he managed on a harsh groan.
“You’re going to be for a while. But the laparoscopy went fine and I didn’t have any complications. Your throat will be fine in a couple days. It’s sore from the breathing tube. Although you still have some other injuries that need time to heal, I want you up and walking this evening.
“What the hell.” Duke grimaced. “I’m hurting all over, Doc.”
He watched Dr. Chauncey make some more notes in his folder while the nurse read off information from the monitors and typed in some of the doctor’s orders. Including a slow two- to five-minute walk after he was removed from the post-op wing and back up to a room.
