Chapter 8 - Micah
Ipaced the waiting room, panic weighing on me like a blanket, pressing down on my shoulders and tightening my back.
I walked the length of the room, down and back, anxious to hear news from the doctors, anything at all.
Terrible thoughts raced through my mind—would he be okay?
How badly was he injured? What was taking so long? What if—?
I tried to distract myself. I counted the tiles on the ceiling.
I counted the tiles on the floor. I made an attempt to watch the news blaring through the TV.
Nothing helped. My stomach churned at the possibilities.
I checked the clock at what felt like every hour to find that it had only been a few minutes since I’d last looked.
Eventually, I collapsed into a chair and tapped my foot rapidly.
After what felt like a full eternity, a woman in scrubs and a lab coat pushed through the double doors separating the ER from the waiting room. “Mr. Pollard?”
I jumped up from the seat. “That’s me.”
She smiled reassuringly. “I’m Dr. Fenton. I’ve just come from working with Asher Morris.”
“How is he?”
“Let’s have a seat.” She gestured toward a chair. Once I was sitting, she took a slow breath and began to explain. “Mr. Morris had quite the fall. He suffered a grade two concussion, a dislocated shoulder, and his ribs are pretty bruised. We’re going to keep him overnight for observation.”
“Is he going to be okay?”
“He should be fine, but his healing time might be slow. He’ll need help doing basic tasks for a while.
The shoulder will take at least several weeks to begin to heal and the ribs will likely hinder his daily activities.
He’ll need physical therapy for the shoulder.
Do you know if Mr. Morris has anyone to help him at home? ”
I shook my head. “I don’t think he does. But I don’t know for sure.”
“Well, we’re recommending that he go home with someone to support him. He should avoid strenuous activities for a while, including lifting, to avoid exacerbating the injury, and he may need to take time off from work while he heals.”
I swallowed hard and nodded. “That’s going to be tough. He’s a carpenter.”
“Well, if he doesn’t take it easy, he risks re-injuring himself, and then he’s really going to have to take time off of work. It could mean the difference between rest and surgery.”
I hesitated for a moment before speaking again. “Can I see him?”
“Of course. He’s a little groggy from the pain meds, but he’s awake.
Let us get him settled into a room and a nurse will come get you when it’s time.
In the meantime, he asked me to give you the contact information for his parents.
They’re out of town, he said.” She held out a slip of paper with a phone number on it, written in shaky handwriting.
“Perfect, thank you.” I took the paper and folded it up. “Is there anything else I need to know?”
Dr. Fenton shook her head. “I think that covers it for now. We’ll have more thorough instructions for you at discharge tomorrow. I’ll go get him into a room and come get you as soon as he’s in.”
“Thanks.”
Dr. Fenton stood and nodded at me before heading back through the double doors she came from. As soon as she disappeared, I unfolded the paper and dialed Asher’s parents. A few moments later, his mom answered.
“Hello?” She sounded groggy and it hit me that it was nearly midnight.
“Hi, Mrs. Morris. I’m not sure if you remember me but this is Micah Pollard. I was friends with Asher when we were kids.”
“I remember you, Micah. Is everything okay? It’s pretty early for a social call, especially considering we haven’t spoken in two decades.”
Early? “Um… I’m calling about Asher. I’m back in Port Grandlin for a while. We were hanging out tonight and he had a little accident.”
“Oh no. What kind of accident? Is he okay?” Her voice pitched up with panic.
“Yeah, he’s going to be fine. He fell off a ladder and dislocated his shoulder, bruised some ribs, and got a concussion. The doctor said he’ll be okay, but he’s going to need someone to take care of him for a while.”
“We’re in Europe. We’re supposed to board a major cruise in two days. A month at sea.” There was some rustling on the line and muffled talking, like she’d put her hand over the receiver. “Okay, we can come home. We’ll book the next flight back to the States.”
My stomach lurched. “No, no that’s okay.
You don’t have to do that. Asher wouldn’t want you to cancel your once-in-a-lifetime trip just because he had a little fall, I’m sure of it.
” I didn’t know Asher as well as I had years ago, but I was sure he wouldn’t want his parents to cancel a trip.
I was equally sure he didn’t want his mom helping him get dressed every day for the next few weeks while he healed.
“Of course we’re coming home.”
“No, really, Mrs. Morris. I can do it. Please don’t cancel your trip. Listen, I’m going to see Ash in a few minutes. I promise he’s not going to want you to pack up and head home. I’ll have him call you in the morning. If you still want to come home, you can work that out with him then.”
She sighed. “Okay, that sounds fair. Please tell him we love him.”
“Will do.” At that moment, a nurse came through the double doors. “Look, I’ve got to go. They have him in a room and I’m going to go see him for a few minutes before heading home. If anything changes, I promise I’ll call you right away.”
“Alright. Thank you for letting us know. Call anytime.”
We hung up a moment later and I followed the nurse upstairs to Asher’s room. She knocked twice on the door before pushing it open.
“Mr. Morris? We have a visitor for you.” She stepped into the room and pulled back the curtain.
Asher gingerly turned his head to face us and smiled weakly at me. His face was bruised and scraped and his left arm was in a sling. “Micah,” he murmured.
My stomach dropped to the floor as I rushed forward to see my friend. “Oh my God, buddy. How are you feeling?”
“Been better,” he said with a soft chuckle. “Tired.”
“You rest up. I’ll be back tomorrow, okay?”
His eyes fluttered closed. “’Kay.” A moment later, his breathing was soft and even. He was sound asleep.
I stood there for several long moments, watching him sleep, before backing out of the room and closing the door behind me.