Page 8 of Break Line

Nate drifted in and out of consciousness. People came and went from his bedside. Nurses checked his vitals and injected needles into his IV tube. Bright surgical lights, doctors in masks, nurses in surgical scrubs–just flashes. Or were they hallucinations?

He rolled over to put his arm around Tonya. Instead of Tonya’s soft skin, his hand landed on a cold steel bar. Slowly his eyes opened, adjusting to the light. Maybe it was time to wean himself off the meds. It seemed they were giving him bad dreams.

He was back in the hospital, but why? Nate searched his mind trying to remember. He had gone home. He had crutches and a wheelchair. He had been doing great, not putting weight on the leg too much.

‘Think, dammit!’

Panic crept into his mind as he tried to recall. There was blood. He remembered turning to look at the back of his thigh in the mirror and seeing that it was red, inflamed, and weeping a nasty mixture of watery blood and puss. He made the mental note to call the doctor just before he adjusted the crutch and fell.

The pain was unbelievable. The paramedics worked quickly and were using medical words that he didn’t understand.

He turned trying to sit up but felt like the room was spinning. Suddenly, he felt nauseous. There was a square plastic tub on the rolling cart. He grabbed it, throwing the stuff that was inside of the tub onto the floor, before vomiting into the container.

A nurse came through the door at a jog hearing him strain after emptying the contents of his stomach. She offered a cool damp washcloth as he eased back onto the pillow.

“That anesthesia is some nasty stuff when you come off it. Especially, when they can't wait for your stomach to empty before performing a critical surgery like you've had.” She took the tub, carrying it to the small bathroom and emptied it in the toilet, then rinsed it in the shower. She moved quickly to replace it on the cart. “Feeling better, Mr. Fletcher?”

Nate thought about nodding just as another wave hit him.

“I’ll take that as a no.” She moved to read the screen on the mobile terminal as he continued to heave. “Best thing to do is get it out of your system. I know it’s not pleasant, and I’m sorry about that.”

Anesthesia always made him hurl. He assumed the doctor had to re-stitch the wound on the back of his thigh because it didn’t burn like it had been. Nate was breathing hard, his pulse elevated after the exertion. He leaned back into the pillow, glancing over at the nurse. He couldn’t see her nametag, but he could read the whiteboard on the wall behind her. Michelle.

“Michelle, can I get some clear soda and ice?” His voice was raspy and weak.

“Certainly. Let me clean this up in case you need it again.” She repeated the actions from before, setting the cleaned tub on the cart. “I’ll let the doctor know you’re awake. Just rest for a bit and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

She walked out the door at a brisk pace.

Nate licked his lips, his mouth as dry as cotton. He hoped she hurried with that soda as he stared at the ceiling, settled into a comfortable position that allowed his stomach to calm down. He probably needed some sort of antibiotic treatment. Maybe a stronger version than he first had been given. That was probably the reason for the back of his thigh still hurting and tender.

Dr. Kelley came through the door with Michelle. She poured the soda into the cup of ice and set it on the cart in front of him.

“Mr. Fletcher.” He nodded as he pulled up a stool to the edge of the bed. “I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

“I need a stronger antibiotic, right?” Nathan took a sip of the soda. It tasted like heaven as it wet his mouth.

“Well, yes. However, it’s more serious. When Mr. Wanoki brought you in the first time, there was a lot of tissue damage. We cleaned the area, had to debride the nonviable tissue. You were lucky that your bones were intact. We were able to suture around the wound, with the most damage to your hamstring and quadriceps. I saved as much of the muscle tissue as I could, but the severity of the bite on your thigh required a skin graft.

“I had hoped that the doxycycline and ceftazidime would halt any water born contagions. However, sepsis from Vibrio species in the bite, possibly from bacteria in the water or the shark’s mouth itself, spread. We saved as much of your leg as we could, but when I went back in to close the reopened wound, the wound was septic and there were gangrenous signs in the tissue.”

He paused, sitting very still as he let what the doctor said soak in. There was a lot of medical jargon in there, but what was he really saying?

“So, the antibiotics will get rid of that, right?”

“I know this is a difficult thing to accept. I did everything I could.” He stood, pushing the stool back to the terminal. “Let’s have a look at it.”

The doctor motioned for Nate to turn to his side so that he could see the back of his thigh. “The dressing should be changed every few hours for the first few days. After that, we’ll have the visiting nurse come by to change the dressing daily.”

He gently tugged on Nate’s shoulder, rolling him back onto his back while adjusting the bed so Nate was sitting upright. It was then that the full impact of what the doctor had said registered. Nate saw with his own eyes that his left leg was a bandaged stump at mid-thigh.

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