Page 71 of Nothing Less than Magic
One finger.
“Can you show me where?”
I try to lift my hand, but I’m too weak. And frankly, too drained. I feel like I just ran a marathon with a vice grip clamped to my head.
“Your head?” he asks.
One finger.
“On a scale of one to ten, how bad is the pain?”
I hold out ten fingers, but at the last minute, fold one down, lest he think I have a low threshold for pain.
“We’ll see if we can give you something for that.”
“Anywhere else?”
One finger.
“Can you show me?”
I try to point to my shoulders, my arms, my hips, my legs, but can’t manage it, so I extend two fingers.
“On a scale of one to ten, tell me the pain levels you’re experiencing.”
I hold out five fingers. It’s more soreness than intense pain.
“Okay. We’ll see about that, too. Would you like to rest now?”
One finger.
I wish I could ask him to turn out the light bearing down on me or turn off the machines making all the noise, but I can’t seem to make myself talk. I would be deeply concerned about it if I wasn’t so fatigued.
Someone is bathing my legs in warm water. When I manage to open my eyes to find the culprit, all I see are tiny paws.
“Good morning.”
I follow the paws with my eyes to the voice and find a round open face with big blue eyes smiling down on me.
“It’s good to have you back, Ms. Knight. How are you feeling?”
I make the okay sign with my fingers and try to reach for my mouth, but my arm isn’t cooperating.
She seems to understand anyway, because she holds an ice chip to my lips and rubs it from side to side on my mouth. I’m too weak to suck on it or swallow, but the cold and wet feels good, though it doesn’t quench my insatiable thirst. I point with one finger at the pitcher on the bed table, and she pushes it away.
“It’s too soon for water,” she says. “But we’re giving you everything you need in there.” She bobs her head at my IV drip.
I try to nod, but I can’t lift my head.How long?I want to ask.How long have I been here? And where’s Knox?I dare to let myself contemplate the unbearable.
What if I made it and he didn’t?
I can’t think about that now. I’m having trouble just keeping my eyes open. The woman, who I presume is a doctor or a nurse, is tending to the plastic bladders in the IV drip. Despite her smooth efficiency, the rustling noises of her moving around make my head hurt.
Her scrubs, printed with a loud pattern of bright orange and purple animal paws, aren’t helping either, though I have the strange sensation that I’ve seen them before. Could be that it’s the theme of the room. I’ve spent a good amount of my awake time staring at a framed nature poster on the wall of a fox. A small red one, perched on top of a rock.
For the rest of the day, I drift in and out. There’s a steady procession of people coming through the room. Some I recognize from voice or smell, while others are completely foreign to me.
The room is cold, so cold that I wish I could ask for more blankets but still can’t seem to speak. I’m hoping that my inability to talk is only temporary. The fact that I’m not completely freaking out about it speaks to how out of it I am.
