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Chapter Twenty-two
Blue
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“Of course this wouldhappen to me,” I whine, dropping my head back against the stiff hospital pillows. “A broken ankle is all I need right now.”
“Maybe it’s not broken,” Harris offers from the seat next to my bed.
“But look at how purple it is.” I gesture to my swollen ankle that’s about every different shade of purple you can imagine.
“When I was fifteen, I sprained my ankle and it bruised pretty bad. They say sometimes a sprain can hurt worse than a break.”
“Well I’ve never had a broken bone or a sprain so I guess I wouldn’t know.”
“How have you lived thirty-two years and never sprained or broken anything?” He smiles at me and the action makes me feel a hundred times better. I ignore why that is.
“Because I’m careful.”
“Maybe a little too careful.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I narrow my gaze at him.
“I’m just saying, until you’ve broken something or had to be sewn back together, you haven’t lived.” He chuckles.
“Well if that’s the case, I’m okay not living.”
“Ms. Daniels.” I look up as a nurse slides open the curtain and steps inside, a wheelchair in tow.
“That’s me.” I blow out a breath.
“I’m here to get a urine sample from you.”
“Um, why?” I ask, not sure why they would need my pee for a jacked-up ankle.
“Workman’s’ comp requires a drug and alcohol screening to ensure you weren’t intoxicated at the time of the accident,” she tells me, moving the wheelchair to the side of the bed.
“I wish I was, maybe then this wouldn’t hurt so bad,” I semi-joke as Harris stands and helps me into the chair.
“Once we have her sample we’re going to take her back for an x-ray. You’re welcome to wait here,” she advises Harris.
“Okay.” He nods, dipping down so that we’re eye level. “I’ll be right here when you’re finished,” he tells me, laying a brief kiss to my forehead before standing upright again.
As much as I hate that he’s here to witness me in this condition, there’s no one else I’d rather have here with me. I know that should tell me something about my feelings, but like many things as of late, I find myself pushing it to the back of my mind and not focusing on it.
After giving my urine sample, I’m rolled back to radiology where I end up having to wait for nearly thirty minutes before a tech comes out to get me.
Once he has me situated up on the table, the same nurse as before comes in and wraps a heavy vest looking thing over my torso.
“This is to protect the baby from radiation,” she tells me, tucking it around me.
I do a double take; not sure I heard her right.
“Come again?”
“The vest.” She points to the dull gray covering draped over the front of me. “It protects the baby while we do the x-ray.”
“I’m sorry but you must be mistaken. I’m not pregnant,” I tell her, figuring she must have me confused with another patient or maybe looked at the wrong chart or something.
