It felt like I was floating. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling but I immediately knew that something was wrong. There was no other sensation except the floating feeling. I hovered in the zone between wakefulness and oblivion and instinctively knew that it would be a while before I would be running the Boston marathon. I felt no pain, but knew that it was lurking just over the horizon. Then all feeling went away, and I descended back into the blackness.
Having no concept of passing time, I could only assume that my next ascent towards consciousness occurred a fair while later. This time I could make out light, but saw nothing. The lack of aural input was creepy. I experienced light, and I floated. I hovered in this state for what felt like hours, but in reality was probably only a few moments. This time, as I descended back into the abyss, I felt a strong surge of nausea. Then blackness again.
It was my third trip to the surface that brought me back with a rush. All of my senses slammed back into operation with brutal suddenness. Pain... everywhere, ripping at me and almost driving me back into the abyss. God knows I would have welcomed the comfort the sensory deprivation had been giving me. My stubborn side kicked in just in the knick of time and propelled me to full consciousness. I needed to know what had happened to me. Obviously I was damaged, but how badly was the question. Up 'til now I hadn't opened my eyes. The light was there on the other side of my eyelids, but for some reason I was afraid of what I would see when I took my first peek. I left them closed and tried to concentrate on what else I could feel. The problem was trying to filter individual sensations through the pain. Hot or cold; I couldn't tell. I was certain of only two things... I was in a phenomenal amount of pain and I was in hospital. The sharp antiseptic smell was enough to confirm the latter. I decided to brave a look at the world. I opened my eyes.
That was a big bad mistake. It felt like someone had taken a hand drill and started to drill into my skull. The pain was massive and instantaneous, and drove a groan from my lips. Immediately I felt a hand on my forehead and then heard Stevie's voice.
"Craig? Honey? Wake up baby. You're going to be okay baby... you're going to be okay." She sounded close to tears but relieved. As I lay there in self imposed darkness, I ran the events that had put me here, over in my mind. I had total and immediate recall which was a huge relief. I heard movement and finally found the guts to have another go at opening my eyes. It still hurt like a mother in law but it was tolerable.
Stevie's face swam into view. It took a while to focus but eventually I was looking into the teary eyes of the woman I loved.
"Hi baby." It came out as a croak and was accompanied by a wave of pain and then nausea. I had a concussion at the very least. That was one of the benefits of having a good grounding in the basics of field medicine; the ability to self diagnose.
Stevie bent and kissed me softly on the lips. I'd never felt anything so good in my life. It was a confirmation that I was alive, and that Stevie was safe. My mouth felt like the whole US Army had camped in it... I needed water.
"Water," I managed to croak. There was movement behind Stevie and a nurse came into view as Stevie stepped back from the bed. She was holding a glass with a flexible straw.
"Just take small sips for a start Mr. Miller. You've been out for a while now and if you drink too fast you'll make yourself sick." She placed the end of the straw in my mouth and held the glass while I drank; the cool water giving me immediate relief, re-hydrating the parched tissues of my mouth and throat. With a nod of my head I indicated that I'd had enough to drink. "I'm going to go and get the doctor for you Mr. Miller. Don't try to move while I'm gone. Just relax and take things easy."
I could immediately see the sense in that, and besides... I didn't have anywhere pressing to be at that moment. Stevie came back into view as the nurse hurried out the door. She was smiling but the smile was full of worry and fear. I noticed a large bruise on her forehead which was a couple of interesting shades of purple and yellow. It had been there for a while. I figured that I must have been unconscious for a while... but for how long? And what was the extent of my injuries? I had pretty much total recall of what had happened outside the tattoo studio. I knew that I had been hit in the side and the shoulder but had no idea how serious the wounds were. I had pain in my head that seemed to be overwhelming any other sensation from elsewhere on my body so it was difficult to localise the injuries. I tried to smile back at Stevie who was now stroking my cheek again. I think it must have come across as a twisted sort of grimace but she took it as a good sign and bent to kiss me softly.
"God Miller, I was soooo worried! You scared the hell out of me baby. I thought I was going to lose you." Her voice was choked with emotion and I saw her eyes begin to fill with tears.
"Hey baby... don't cry. You know you just can't kill weeds honey. I plan to be around for a long time to make your life a misery." She grinned and kissed me again as the door swung open and a tall white coated man stepped into the room and walked over to the bed. He seemed to be in his early to mid thirties and had the look of an outdoors man about him. Deeply tanned and very fit with an open, friendly, good looking face.
"Howdy Mr. Miller. My name is Brian Clark and I'm the surgeon who put you back together the other day. Call me Brian. I'm not going to ask you how you're feeling because I kinda figure the question is redundant. You're feeling like shit aren't you?" He grinned at the look of surprise that crossed my face. This wasn't what I had come to expect from doctors.
"You're a kind of celebrity around here at the moment. We have reporters camped out in the cafeteria and cops crawling all over the reception area. We had to keep them apart because things were getting a mite tetchy. Lee Stowers actually threatened to punch the hell out of one of the reporters from Channel 7. On top of all that you have had a few visitors in suits that have government written all over them. All this has given you a real air of mystery and elevated you to celebrity status with the staff here. All the nurses are very protective of our celebs so at least you are guaranteed a bit of privacy. Anyway... let's have a look at you." This guy was definitely not like any civilian doctor I had come across before. Grabbing a chart from the foot of the bed he started making hmming and haaing noises as he flipped through the pages. Stevie had moved around to the other side of the bed and was holding my hand as Brian continued his perusal of my chart. Finally he looked up and gave me a lopsided grin.
"Okay... for a man who was shot a couple of times you're in pretty good condition. You won't be running any marathons or lifting any heavy weights for a while but there's nothing here that won't heal completely if you do as you're told. The wounds in your side and shoulder are just nasty flesh wounds and will only add to your already impressive collection of scars. I noticed while I was practicing my needlepoint that you've got in the way of flying lead before. You'll have to tell me the story sometime. What we were most worried about was the knock on the head you took when you went down. You have a hairline fracture of your skull which is going to give you a hell of a headache for a few days. You had a massive concussion so we've kept you in a drug induced coma for the last two days to let the swelling of your brain to go down but you're going to have to take it easy for a few days."
I was confused. I distinctly remembered the massive impact of the round that hit me square in the left shoulder. I was sure that it was a serious wound and said as much to the good doctor. He smiled and shook his head.
"I removed a badly flattened slug from the muscles in your left shoulder. From the shape and condition of it, you were hit by a ricochet. I think the initial impact of the round on whatever it hit first, bled enough energy off it to result in just a flesh wound when it hit you. You were lucky buddy. If it had hit you where it did full force you would have been in major strife. It would have taken you directly in the brachial plexus which is a big bundle of nerves that is fairly important to the smooth operation of all the functions performed by your arm. As it is you have a fairly nasty wound and until the bruising, lacerations and other damage heals, you'll have limited use of your arm. Does that do anything to put your mind at rest?" The doc sure had a great bedside manner and I made a mental note that next time I got shot I'd be sure to request him to patch me up.
