“Mr. Sullivan, you were lucky your injuries were not worse. The guy that hit you didn’t make it,” said Dr. Walker. “The surgeries were successful. Unfortunately, you are likely to have a permanent limp, but you will walk. Your right leg will never be as strong, and your back could be re-injured easily,” said Dr. Walker, his gaze fixed on the athlete’s face.
“Doc?” Bill asked looking at Phillip Jensen, his team doctor.
Doc Jensen looked over at Natalie and Jake.
“She’s my daughter and she should know. Please just spit it out, Phillip.”
“Bill, with your injuries… it is unlikely that you will play professional ball again,” he said quietly, shaking his head while meeting Bill’s eyes.
Bill’s mouth was open, and he started breathing rapid, shallow breaths. He blinked over and over, started clearing his throat, but couldn’t speak; anger, fear, and disbelief was choking him.
Not play? Limp?
Then he became angry. He was not helpless.
“You must be mistaken. That can’t be right.”
Natalie had her head down, hands folded in her lap. Philip Jenson’s face and jaw were set. Jake looked worried.
Dr. Walker calmly met Bill’s stare. “We are going to do all we can. We will take follow-up x-rays tomorrow, after some of the swelling is reduced, and we will do more nerve conduction tests. We plan to have you up walking briefly today and starting physical therapy tomorrow.”
Bill, stunned and demoralized, didn’t say anything.
“Bill, Dr. Jenson and I have spoken, and he is quite knowledgeable. He wants to talk with you after I leave. He will be able to fill in most of the details.
“The IV in your hand is attached to an automatic medication pump. Whenever you feel you need medication press the button. The machine will only allow medication every four hours so you cannot overdo it. If the pain is severe use the call button and a nurse can check on you.” He paused. “Do you understand how the machine works?”
Bill nodded.
Dr. Walker laid his hand on Bill’s shoulder.
“Bill, I am sorry you were injured… and happy that you were not paralyzed. I will do all I can to help you toward the most optimum recovery. Now I need to see my other patients. I’ll check back on you tomorrow afternoon.”
Dr. Walker felt bad. He had seen Bill pitch a couple games and knew about the work he did on behalf of kids and orphans. He gave Natalie a small quick smile and after shaking Dr. Jenson and Jake’s hands, left the room.
Bill could feel his bruised ribs. His head hurt, his whole body felt bruised or burned, his face was still hot, and his eyes were gritty. He glanced at his daughter, who was visibly worn out, dead on her feet and he noticed her hands were trembling slightly.
“Come here, Honey,” he said holding out his hand. He made eye contact with Philip and Jake then turned his attention to Natalie.
Natalie started crying softly. “Oh, Dad, I’m so sorry. This can’t be right.”
“My spinal cord was not severed so I’ll be all right. Let’s give it some time and everything will work out.” He squeezed her hand gently, but inwardly felt sick, rats of worry gnawing at his stomach and lungs.
This is a nightmare! His stomach was churning, his mind misfiring from fear, and the need to hide it. What if it’s true?
“Maybe you better head home and get some sleep,” he said.
“I can stay. The nurses would fix me a cot.”
His heart broke. He wanted her to stay, but a hospital was not a place to rest.
“I’m tired and so are you, plus I’ll be sleeping most of the time. Please, go home and get some real rest and come see me tomorrow. I am not pushing you away. I am going to need your help in the days to come,” Bill said. “And tell your mom thanks for coming.”
“I’ll be with him whenever you’re not here, Natalie,” assured Jake.
Natalie was shaking and seemed frozen. She burst out sobbing and laid her head on her dad’s shoulder while rapidly gulping breaths.
“We’ll be outside,” Jake said quietly and lead Doc Jensen out of the room.
“It’s okay, Natalie. It’s okay.”
Why is she so upset?
It took several minutes for his daughter to calm as he spoke to her.
“Tell me, Honey, whatever it is will be okay.”
Natalie looked up with tortured eyes.
“I’m…so…sorry.
“This is…my…fault.”
“Natalie, this is not your fault. What are you talking about?”
“I … was mad … at you… and I yelled…at you…in the airport.”