Page 54 of Snared Rider

Chapter Fourteen

For the next three hours,I lie in my hospital bed waiting to see the doctor so I can be discharged. Seeing a doctor is apparently a necessity. You can’t just leave; you have to be told you can leave. This place is more like a prison than a hospital, and my complaints to that effect are laughed off by the nursing staff.

Dad left sharpish after our talk to, in his words, ‘get shit sorted’. This left me at the mercy of Logan, who I expected to come back into the curtained bay to talk. He surprised me by not doing this and instead staying in the small waiting area by the nurses’ station. He has an uninhibited view of me from his position, but he’s not in my space. I wanted this, yet it leaves me feeling bereft and lonely.

The police arrive after a while to talk. Apparently taking a ride in the back of an ambulance means the accident was serious enough the police need to investigate. I tell them verbatim what Dad briefed me to say: that I felt something hit the back of the bike and then I was on the ground. Everything else after that is a blur. Neither of the two officers who interview me seem content with my statement but when I don’t give them anything more (even after substantial pressure) they give up and leave.

After a while lying on the trolley, a new emotion makes itself known: boredom. Before long I’m nearly climbing the walls. My phone, which had been in the inside pocket of my leather jacket, is busted, so I don’t even have that to play with while I’m waiting. Instead, I alternate between staring out of the window longingly and flicking through some women’s magazine that looks as if it has been read so much the pages may disintegrate. I’m just planning my great escape attempt when a white-haired doctor pops her head around the curtain.

“Miss Goddard?”

“Please tell me you’re here to break me out.”

She laughs, a tinkling sound. “I am. Your scans confirmed you definitely have fractures to three ribs on your left side, but it looks like there’s no risk of damage to your lungs because of how they’re fractured. Two of the injuries are hairline cracks rather than full breaks, meaning they should fuse back together over time on their own. The other fracture doesn’t look like it’s going to cause any issues either as long as you rest up for a few weeks. The injuries to the rest of your body are superficial.” Easy for her to say, she’s not the one feeling it. Nothing about my left side feels superficial. “You’ll have a whopper of a bruise on your hip by tomorrow, I would imagine, but most of it looks like bruising and nothing more serious.

“The concussion isn’t as bad as we initially thought but you should be monitored overnight by someone. It was a good thing you were wearing a helmet. You may have a residual headache for a few days but I expect you’ll make a full recovery. However, if you do feel nauseous come back to A&E.” She hands me a paper bag. “I’m sorry about the hold up to get you discharged, but we had to wait for your painkillers to come up from the hospital’s pharmacy before we could ‘break you out’.”

She smiles as she hands me the bag. I take it, glancing inside to see a stack of medication boxes.

“It’s just co-codamol and some naproxen. Take the co-codamol four times a day, the naproxen twice daily with food. If the pain is unbearable your GP should be able to prescribe something a little stronger.” She sighs. “Unfortunately, that’s about all we can do for broken ribs.”

“Well, the drugs are definitely appreciated.”

She nods, then says, “You might be tempted to take shallower breaths because of the pain, but if possible don’t do this. Deeper breathing will prevent other complications. I will say be careful when laughing or coughing but, other than that, continue with your daily routine as you would normally. No sports for at least a couple of months if they’re contact sports. Otherwise just use your judgement.”

Since I do no sports, contact or otherwise, this will not be an issue. I fold the top of the paper bag back down.

“Thanks doc.”

“No problem. I assume the young man loitering around my nurses is your lift home.”

I resist the urge to sigh. “Yeah, he’s my lift.”

And the proverbial thorn in my side.

The doctor nods. “I hope you feel better soon.”

“Thanks,” I say.

As she leaves I see Logan cross the A&E department’s main floor and make his way over to me. He’s clutching a carrier bag in a thick fist, which he lifts and shakes in my direction.

“One of the boys brought you some clothes to change into.”

This was thoughtful given I had to be cut out of my leathers and I wasn’t wearing anything else beneath them. Truthfully, I hadn’t given any thought to what I would wear to leave, which I really should have done. Wandering around in a backless hospital gown is a good way to end up back in the hospital.

“Oh, thanks.”

He hovers awkwardly at the side of the bed before placing the bag on the end of it.

“What?” I demand when he does nothing.

“Do you… need uh help? To get changed?”

I recoil at that idea. “No, I absolutely do not.”

And if I did I would not have him help me.

He rubs the back of his neck, and I can see how uncomfortable this whole situation is for him. Too bad because it’s a thousand times worse for me.

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