Page 51 of Born into Darkness

“That’s one hell of a camping trip,” Dr. Frost says, running his eyes over the dark bruises that cover my ribs and abs. They circle around to my back, but at least that part is hidden for the moment. “I also couldn’t help but notice that you have some fading bruises on your face and a cut along your eyebrow that needed stitches but never got any. Want to tell me what’s really going on here?”

I grin and give a soft laugh. “I know this looks bad, and I’m hesitant to admit it because it embarrasses me, but I had a bit of a falling out with a group of friends, and they kicked my ass.” I give another laugh and shrug in awhat the fuck are you gonna dokind of way. “It’s over and done with, and I refuse to press charges or name names. I’m healing, even though I still look like shit, and I’d rather just put it all behind me.”

Dr. Frost looks like he wants to argue. I can almost hear the internal debate going on in his head. He could push this, make a big deal out of it, but in the end he knows it wouldn’t amount to shit. He knows I won’t say a word to the police, and all it’ll do is waste time and ensure he doesn’t see a dime of that huge donation my dad promised them. In the end, common sense wins out, and he gives a nod to the nurse, letting her know she should continue.

Proving she’s a professional through and through, the older nurse waves away my embarrassment about my appearance and gives me a big smile. “Don’t worry about a thing, hon. I used to work in the ER during the weekends. Trust me, I’ve seen and smelled way worse. This is nothing a bar of soap can’t fix.”

I give a soft laugh. “I might need two bars for this job.”

She gives me a friendly wink. “And a shave.”

“I think his camping days are behind him,” my dad tells her. “You’re more of a city boy, aren’t you, Max?”

“Definitely,” I agree. “I’m done roughing it. I want hot showers and food that can be delivered right to my doorstep.”

“I can’t argue with that,” the doctor says, getting things ready as another man in scrubs walks into the room, wheeling a portable ultrasound machine. He introduces himself as the anesthesiologist and wastes no time getting to work. I’m laid on my back with a small cushion under my shoulders. He cleans the entire area around my clavicle and neck with antiseptic while he explains the procedure to me. Apparently, I’m going to be numb from my shoulder to my fingers, and I can’t fucking wait.

He turns my head, exposing the side of my neck, and says, “This might sting a bit,” right before he administers a local anesthetic about midway between my neck and shoulder. The needle is small and it’s a minor sting at most.

“Doing okay?” he asks.

“So far, so good,” I tell him.

“Okay, good, because that was the easy part.”

With my head turned, I can’t see what he’s doing, but I’m guessing he’s preparing a much bigger needle. Anything that requires a pre-numbing shot isn’t going to be pleasant. I hear him wheel the ultrasound machine closer, and then the cool touch of the probe against my skin. The entire area isn’t numb, but I’m hoping it’s at least enough to take the brunt of what’s about to happen. I’m sick and tired of feeling pain, and the promise of a full-arm numbing makes me want to weep with gratitude.

“This needle is a bit bigger,” he says, and when I let out a soft laugh, he adds, “maybe a lot bigger. Just relax, though. It’ll be over in a sec.”

He explains that he’s using the ultrasound probe to find the nerve bundle so he can administer the anesthetic solution around it.

“Found it,” he murmurs, and a few seconds later, I hear, “Here we go, Max. Hang in there for just a bit longer.”

I smile at the way he’s talking to me, like I’m a child who needs reassuring. If he knew half the things I’ve done and seen, he’d be appalled and probably not so eager to help. When he slides the needle in, I feel a sensation of pressure that I wouldn’t call painful, but it sure as hell isn’t pleasant either. A tingling feeling shoots down my arm, and then he’s pulling the syringe out and telling me it’s all over.

“You should feel a warming sensation, and in fifteen to twenty minutes, your entire arm will be numb,” he tells me, already gathering up his equipment.

“How long will it last,” I ask him, turning my head to see him, already feeling the warmth run along my skin.

“It could last up to twenty-four hours,” he says, and he must see the relief on my face because he pats my shoulder and gives me a smile before he leaves the room with the others, waiting until my arm is numb and they can continue.

My dad helps me get the hospital bed back up so I’m sitting, and with each passing minute, I feel my body grow a little more relaxed as the pain slowly starts to fade away until it’s gone completely. It’s euphoric to not be able to feel my hand, and I can’t help but grin.

“I hope it stays numb for days,” I say, and my dad laughs while my mom gives me a worried smile and pats my leg.

“Surely they’ll give you some good pain meds,” Niki says. “If not, Tony can.”

“He can just roofie you,” my dad teases. “That seemed to do the trick.”

“I’d rather not pass out again,” I say.

When the doctor and nurse come back in, my family steps off to the side so they’re not in the way. I think Dr. Frost would prefer it if they left, but my dad’s body language is making it clear that isn’t going to happen. I’d feel the same way if it were my son, so I don’t bother arguing about it.

“Are you feeling completely numb?” Dr. Frost asks. He sets my hand on a padded, flat table that’s covered in a sterile draping. I don’t feel anything as he puts my hand where he wants it and starts to gently feel around. It’s surreal and unpleasant. I’m usually so in tune with my hands, and now it’s like watching him touch someone else. My mind keeps yelling at me that this should hurt, but my body isn’t reacting at all to what I know must be excruciating.

“I don’t feel anything,” I tell him.

“Good. That’s exactly how we want you for this.” He waits for the nurse to come around and grab onto my wrist before he says, “I’m going to get your fingers back to how they should be. I’ll do it one finger at a time. Okay?”

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