Page 47 of Bewitched

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Thursday, May 4

San Diego

Blake sat in the Naval Medical Center and waited for his doctor. This was the day that would determine the trajectory of his career. He’d completed the battery of tests yesterday and had been scanned from head to toe. As far as he could tell, there wasn’t anything else to do but receive the final evaluation.

Surprisingly, he wasn’t nervous. He suspected that had a lot to do with that tornado of a woman in Texas. Mark had been right all along. Facing the end of your career was a lot easier when you had something to look forward to. He could still stay in the Navy if he chose to. It would just be in a different role, which didn’t seem as shitty as it had three months ago. Now he had a completely different future. The idea of coming home every night to his wife and kid was appealing and one he hoped to make a reality. The only hiccup was that he hadn’t asked Paige yet. Hell, he hadn’t even told her how he felt, which, in retrospect, had been a mistake.

Hesitation never worked out. He knew that better than anyone, and yet he had hesitated. He could kick his own ass.

His name was called, and he looked up to see a nurse signaling it was his turn. Standing, he straightened his shirt and moved toward the door. This was it.

Dr. Jacobsen greeted him as he walked into the office, and he gave the man a nod. “This day has been a long one in the making.”

“Lieutenant Commander, it’s good to see you,” Dr. Jacobsen called out. “Come in and let’s get started.”

Blake settled into a chair and pressed his hands into his legs. He was ready for whatever news he received because either way, he had a life in front of him. And for the first time in his life, it wasn’t just about his job. “I look forward to hearing the news. One way or another, I’m going to have an answer.”

Scratching his face, Dr. Jacobsen shrugged. “That’s where it gets interesting. You have some options. The results don’t give us a clear-cut answer either way.”

“I thought shoulders either worked or they didn’t,” Blake responded.

“If you were a civilian, that would be true. And for many other branches of the military, that would be true as well. But SEALs are a completely different animal. What your job requires tests the boundaries of the human body.” Glancing at the chart, he shook his head. “Twelve years on the Teams have almost worn yours out.”

“What are you saying, Doc?”

Holding up his hands, the doctor shook his head. “Let me rephrase. You are in prime physical condition, and you can do whatever you want to do. But being on the Teams may not be in your best interests.”

“You have to explain that to me,” Blake said. What the hell was going on? He wasn’t getting any answers. He was only getting riddles.

“Let me start at the beginning. The surgery we performed on your shoulder was successful. You have full range of motion, and your muscles can support almost any activity you choose to engage in. But…I can’t give you a clear answer on how it’s going to hold up in combat. A fast rope under adverse conditions could tear it to shreds and leave us few options. If you get shot again, then I have little hope of putting it back together. I’m guessing that you’ll get thrown in a blast, and if you land incorrectly, then your shoulder can’t be rebuilt. What I’m trying to say is that under normal circumstances, you have a fully operational shoulder. Under SEAL circumstances, you are one op away from losing the function of your shoulder in any meaningful way.”

Sitting back, Blake took a deep breath. It wasn’t a surprise, but it wasn’t easy to hear either. “So, if I go back out, I risk the loss of my shoulder. Forever.”

“Yes. I know what your job entails, and I can say with all certainty that it’s not a question of if but of when.”

“So, that’s it?”

“I wish I had a better answer for you. We’ve reconstructed it three times, and it’s my belief that the last injury isn’t going to allow us another shot when it happens again.”

“Where does that leave me?” Blake asked.

“You can do almost anything you want. Except be an active SEAL. I’ve had a lot of men go on to become instructors, and of course there all kinds of private sector options. The best way to describe your opportunities is to say you can do anything but be in spec ops.”

“Twelve years is a long time,” Blake said. “Shit, I didn’t think I would last five.”

Leaning forward, the doctor steepled his fingers. “Truth be told, with the heavy rotations you and your brothers have been on, five years is a blessing. Everything has changed in the last ten years. Everything we knew about a warrior’s body is being redefined. Never before have we put our spec ops community through this type of marathon. When I started, SEALs might have been involved in a half-dozen direct action missions a year. How many did you have during your last rotation?”

“A lot more than six,” Blake said as he shook his head.

“Exactly. Everything has changed out there but the human body. It can take only so much before it falls apart. It’s been my mission to keep as many men in one piece as I can.” Glancing down at the file, he smiled. “I see that you’ve spent some time down at NAB. Maybe you should get the next set of warriors ready.”

Standing, Blake put out his hand. “Thank you, Doctor. I appreciate everything you’ve done.”

Dr. Jacobsen stood and shook hands. “Thank you for your service. It’s not over yet. It’s just going to take on a different form.”

Blake nodded and walked out of the office. As prepared as he was, he was still in shock. His career as a lieutenant commander on the Teams had just ended.

---