Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 66518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66518 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 333(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
“He also should have known better than to take you down that hard, but that whole team is so fucking green.”
My voice rose in alarm when I told them, “I can’t move my leg.”
“Don’t try to move. They’ve got you in a brace to stabilize your hip, but that’s just until they can perform surgery. The doctor is going to talk to you about that.”
“They gave you super hardcore pain meds. I bet you’re flying right now.”
I shut my eyes, and someone said, “Don’t worry, buddy, you’re going to be okay.”
“Don’t worry about your animals, either. We called Dwight, and he’s going to stay at the ranch until you get out of the hospital. He’s bringing in his cousin to help him. All of us can help, too. Just tell us what you need.” I was pretty sure Greg said that.
I muttered, “I have no idea what I need.” This all felt surreal, and even through the fog of pain meds, my hip was throbbing.
“No, of course. Tell us later, when you’re not so out of it.”
“We’ll keep your truck at our house, and we brought you your gym bag. Your phone is on the side table. Is there anyone you want us to call?”
I managed, “Not right now,” and made the mistake of shifting slightly. Pain shot through my body, and I drew a sharp breath.
The doctor came in just then and immediately took charge of the situation. “All of you, out,” she snapped. “Your friend needs to rest. Don’t come back until tomorrow, after his surgery. When you do, I want no more than two of you in here at a time. Is that clear?”
They filed out to a chorus of, “Yes, ma’am,” and one of them called, “Hang in there, Rock. We love you, buddy!”
Once they were gone, the doctor introduced herself and asked me, “How are you feeling?”
“Not great.”
“As expected. Let’s talk about your hip, and about what’s going to happen.” She went on to tell me far too much about hip sockets, the type of injury I’d sustained, and what they were going to do to repair it.
Then she said, “I’ve scheduled you for surgery first thing tomorrow morning. Your surgeon will meet with you this afternoon and will be able to answer any questions you have about the procedure. You’ll be in the hospital for several days. After that, you’ll be under orders to refrain from walking without crutches or putting any weight on your hip for six to ten weeks.”
I muttered, “Oh god,” but she wasn’t done with the bad news yet.
“Your recovery will obviously include physical therapy. It’s going to be a very long process, but you’re young and healthy, so there’s every reason to believe you’ll make a full recovery. Just don’t expect it to happen overnight. It’ll be four to six months before you’ll be cleared to engage in any form of strenuous physical activity, assuming there aren’t any complications.”
“Why so long?”
“You’ve sustained a very serious injury, Mr. Woods. Your body will need time to heal. If you try to rush the process, you could do irreparable damage.”
“What counts as strenuous activity?”
“Sports, manual labor—”
“But I have to work.” How the hell would I be able to look after my animals and keep up the ranch?
“Don’t worry about that now. Just take it one day at a time, and make sure to line up plenty of help for when you get home. Your mobility will be severely hampered, so everyday tasks like bathing and cooking may require assistance for the first few weeks. My staff and your physical therapist will obviously give you a lot more information later and help you obtain any accommodations you may need, like handrails for your toilet, or a walker.”
I muttered, mostly under my breath, “Sounds like a freakin’ nightmare.”
When I shifted a fraction of an inch and grimaced in pain, she dialed up the dosage on my meds and told me, “A nurse will be in soon to replace your IV bag, and the surgeon will stop by in a couple of hours. In the meantime, try to get some rest.”
After she left, I was completely overwhelmed. What the hell was I going to do? The last thing I wanted was to be a burden to my loved ones, especially Hal. He was planning to come for a visit this next week, after the fashion show was done. If he saw how broken and helpless I was, he’d want to stay until I was healed, so he could take care of me.
Every part of that was upsetting. I wanted to take care of him, not the other way around. And what if staying with me ended up costing him his dream job? He was definitely going to get offers after he showed his collection, but if he told them he couldn’t start for several months because I couldn’t take care of myself, those offers might go to someone else. I’d never forgive myself if I cost him his big break.