Page 6 of Shattered Dreams
“Okay.” That explained why his chest hurt so damned much. “And the bullets?”
“Well, about that…” Dr. Sanders sat on the edge of the bed near Max’s feet. “…we did the best we could. We removed two bullets fully, but the third.” He sighed. “We got as much as possible, but there is a pretty good-sized fragment that is too close to the spinal cord for us to risk removing. Not if you don’t want to be paralyzed from the waist down.”
He let the words sink in. “And how dangerous is it to leave it?”
The doctor sighed. “There’s a risk that it might move, probably less than twenty percent.”
“And those odds are acceptable enough to leave the fragment there?” He needed to understand what his options were.
“Considering there’s over a seventy-five percent chance that if I try to remove it, I’ll nick the spinal cord. If that happens, there’s a ninety percent chance that you’ll never walk again.”
Max’s shoulders slumped. “So, by leaving the fragment in place, what is my prognosis? Am I going to have a full recovery?”
“At the moment, good is the best I can say. You have a lot of swelling on your spine from the surgery, and it’s going to take some time for that to come back down. You’re probably going to have residual pain – for how long I can’t predict. We’re going to keep a close eye on you for the next week, since the trauma you experienced is massive. In the end, a lot of how you recover will depend upon you, Mr. Rodkin. You do as we say, and your recovery will hopefully speed along. Ignore our advice, and you’re going to have a hard time of it, and you will do more damage to your body.”
“I see.” He closed his eyes. This wasn’t the prognosis he’d been hoping for, but he guessed he should consider himself lucky that he was still breathing. “And my friend?”
“Mr. Parkers?”
Max nodded. “Yeah. Please tell me he’s okay.”
“I’m not a hundred percent sure. I know he came out of surgery alright, but I don’t have any particulars. Your pretty little wife probably can give you more details. She and Mr. Parker’s boy-friend have been sharing one of our private rooms for the past few days.”
“I’ll ask her. As long as Storm is okay, we’re good.” He closed his eyes. “Can I go back to sleep now?”
“Sure.” The doctor rose from the foot of the bed. “I’ll have the nurse come check in on you later. I’ll also talk to your wife…”
“No.” He opened his eyes. “I’ll tell her, doc. It’s better if she hears it from me.”
The doctor looked uncomfortable, but finally nodded. “You’re the patient.”
“Exactly.” He let his eyes drift shut again. He loved Lizzie, but he didn’t want her to worry about something that neither of them could control. He barely heard the door shut behind the doctor. God, he was tired. He let the darkness overwhelm him once more. He’d tell his wife later.
* * *
“Come on, Lizzie.” Raine pleaded. “Master wouldn’t be happy if you got sick because you aren’t taking care of yourself.”
Lizzie shook her head. “No. I can’t leave.”
Her best friend gave her a look of frustration. “Do I need to paddle your bottom?”
She arched a brow at him. “Try it.”
Raine crossed his arms. “You think I won’t? Just because I’m happier being on the receiving end of a well-placed paddling, doesn’t mean that I can’t or won’t deliver one when my best friend is neglecting her needs. You need a warm meal, and sleep.”
“I’m fine,” she retorted. “And I ate a sandwich earlier.”
“Half a peanut butter and honey sandwich is not a meal, Elizabeth Marie Rodkin.”
She cringed. She hated when Raine brought out the big guns; her full name. “If you’re tired, go home, Raine. I know you hate being up here and…”
“And nothing. Master is here and so is…Storm. Until they are both coherent, I’m needed here. Once they both wake up, I’m heading back to the club.”
She shifted on the couch where she was sitting. “So why is it different if I stay when you’re planning on it?”
“Because!” Raine raked his hands through his hair.
“Not good enough.” She tucked her legs under her. “If you’re allowed to stay, then so am I.”
