Page 26 of Huge Dynamite
“My guess is that you have gotten very lucky and this knife has missed the major arteries in the shoulder. However, we can’t take a chance. I’m going to prep you for surgery just in case.”
Suddenly, she started barking orders as the short doctor and nurse buzzed around the room. New IV bags were added and hung, and all kinds of sterilized instruments were placed out on a table next to me. “Normally, surgery would mean moving you—but we have an unusually busy night tonight. So…” Examining my shoulder, she had a very serious look on her face. “In evaluating the direction and track of the object to see how best to remove it, it looks like a clean wound and the placement—although deep and impaled with a great deal of force—” She glanced at me and then back to my wound. “It looks like it may have missed the major arteries.”
“That’s good, right?” I chuckle.
“That’s exceptionally good, Mr. Hardy. If this had impaled an artery, the amount of blood loss would be life-threatening. In addition, we could be talking about loss of range of motion and even paralysis.” Placing her hand on my arm, she moved a finger high onto my shoulder. “This is one of the three major arteries, the ‘subclavian artery’. Thankfully, we’re nowhere near that. We’re also clear of the ‘brachial artery’ that’s located lower down. Here.”
She placed a finger on an area low in my shoulder, and her touch sent a shiver through me.
“The only major artery of concern is the ‘axillary artery’.” She nodded for the short doctor to come closer. “I think we’re clear with this, too, but we need to pull it directly out because there is concern that we could nick the thoracoacromial artery when the knife is removed.” Turning to the short doctor, she added, “Be ready for me to suture immediately.”
Swallowing hard, she placed both hands on the knife. Turning to the short doctor, she nodded to the wound. “I want constant pressure around the area as I remove the knife, and then immediate pressure on the wound to control the bleeding.”
When she glanced up at me, I noticed a fine layer of perspiration over her top lip.
“Do you want something to bite down on, Mr. Hardy? It sounds primitive, but it helps.”
“No. Thanks.” Taking a deep breath, I looked at the black dots on the white ceiling tiles.
“Okay,” she told me. “Keep looking at the ceiling, and under no circumstance are you to look at the knife removal. Understood?”
“Yeah.” Swallowing hard, I ready myself. No worries about me watching; it wasn’t like I wanted to see the freaking thing getting pulled from my body.
“I know this is counterintuitive, but do your best to keep your muscles relaxed as I remove the object.” As she spoke, she injected the area around the wound with something. “No painkiller is one thing, but I need to numb the area. Everything now hinges on how cleanly I can remove this. The stiller you remain, the cleaner my removal. The numbing will keep you from making a jerking movement when I pull.”
Almost immediately, the tight muscles on the left side of my neck relaxed and my shoulder slumped.
Without another word, the short doctor pushed back against the skin around the wound, which didn’t feel half as good as when she did it, and Dr. Holly, with that incredibly serious look on her face, started to pull. Within a few seconds, the knife was clear out of my shoulder, and she dropped it into that tan basin. It landed with a dull plink.
Pressing a piece of gauze hard against the area, her stern expression relaxed. “Good news, Mr. Hardy. As I had hoped and expected, the knife missed the major arteries. Once I close you up, you’ll be good as new.”
Stepping closer to me, she began to stitch me up. “You do have tough skin.” She glanced at me, and then looked back at the wound. “Sometimes, I wish my skin were a little tougher,” she mumbled so quietly I think it was meant for only me to hear.
Damn, how I wanted to know what she meant by that, but it wasn’t the time or place. That was a question for when the two of us were alone. But when would that ever be?
Howcould that ever be?
“So, did they have trouble tattooing you?” Her bottom lip wavered as she spoke.
“Nah. I’ve got a guy. He’s good.”
Nodding, she finished stitching me and began wrapping long strips of gauze around my shoulder. “That is really nice. The tattoo. The symbol itself is beautifully done, but the circle it sits in—the detail, all those patterns—it’s exquisite.”
“Well, if you’re ever looking for a tattoo, let me know. I can hook you up.”
Hook you up?Fuck.
Her eyes flashed with something when she looked at me. A hunger I couldn’t place. It didn’t belong in the eyes of a woman like her—a woman so perfect.
And it was a look that stirred something deep inside of me…
“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you.”
We made eye contact again, and she held my gaze longer than she should have. Clearing her throat, she turned to the short doctor and nurse. “Dr. Morton, we’re all set.”
“Thank you, Dr. Boling. I, uh… wasn’t sure. Well, thank you.”
“It’s okay.” She nodded to him. “Would you please take the next case? I’m going to go speak to the group Mr. Hardy brought in with him.” She smiled at me. “There’s an older man. Before I came in here, I was told he keeps asking about you at the front desk. Is he your dad?”
