Chapter 24 Dimitri #2
Dimitri had a feeling that Mattie would take it harder than most. The damage to her hand was one more disability she would have to suffer, one more limitation added to the scars on her legs. He felt terrible for her and furious at himself for not protecting her better.
"In here." He shouldered open the door to their room and carried Mattie to the bed, laying her down as gently as he could manage. "This is the best I can offer for a workspace."
"It'll do." The doctor pulled a chair next to the bed and examined her injured hand without touching it and shook his head.
"That bad?" Dimitri asked.
"I've seen worse." The doctor opened his bag and began laying out supplies—syringes, vials, bandages, and what looked like small splints. "Several fingers are broken in multiple places. The bones will need to be set properly, or they'll heal crooked."
"Can you fix her fingers?"
"I can set the bones, give her medication for the pain, and immobilize everything so it heals correctly.
" The doctor selected a syringe and a small vial, drawing liquid with a practiced hand.
"I need to numb the area before I begin.
We don't want her to wake up screaming when I start manipulating those breaks and passing out again from the pain. "
Dimitri grimaced. "No, we certainly don't want that."
"You should leave." The doctor positioned the needle near Mattie's wrist.
"I'm not leaving her." Dimitri moved closer rather than away.
"I understand your concern." The doctor's voice was patient, but there was a note of exasperation in it.
"But trust me when I say you don't want to watch this.
Setting broken bones is not a pleasant process, especially for the uninitiated.
You might be a scientist, but you are not a medic.
The sounds alone can cause you to faint, and then I will need to take care of you. We don't want that."
Dimitri hesitated. He didn't want to leave Mattie alone with someone he didn't know, but the doctor had a point. Besides, he might distract the human, and then the physician might do less than his best work on Mattie's hand.
Funny how he suddenly thought of humans as other.
That hadn't taken long.
"Do you have everything you need to fix her hand properly?" he asked. "I mean, I don't want it to be—" He struggled to find the right words. "Disfigured."
The doctor looked up, his expression disapproving. "Our priority is to ensure that her hand regains full functionality. Esthetic considerations are secondary."
Dimitri shook his head. "I don't care about esthetics, but Mattie does." He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated by his inability to articulate what he meant. "She has scars on her legs that she's self-conscious about, injuries from a house fire long ago."
He looked down at Mattie's pale face, peaceful now in unconsciousness, but soon to awake to a new reality of pain and limitation.
"If her hand heals badly, if it's twisted or misshapen or obviously damaged, she'll see it as one more thing that's wrong with her, one more reason to hide, one more wall between her and the world." His voice dropped. "It's important to her. That's why it's important to me."
The doctor's expression softened. "I understand." He returned his attention to Mattie's hand, injecting the numbing agent with care. "I promise to do my best work. When I'm finished, her hand will look as good as new. At least on the outside."
"What do you mean, 'on the outside'?"
"Cosmetically, there shouldn't be any lasting damage.
The fingers will be straight, the mobility should return with proper physical therapy, and scarring will be minimal.
" The doctor set aside the empty syringe and began preparing his supplies and instruments.
"But injuries like this have a way of lingering.
She may experience pain later in life, you know, when the weather changes, when she overuses the hand, when she gets older.
The bones will remember the damage even if the surface heals perfectly. "
It wasn't the reassurance Dimitri had been hoping for, but he appreciated the honesty.
"Is there anything I can do to help? Anything she should do to minimize the long-term effects?"
"Keep the hand immobilized until the bones set properly.
Don't rush the healing. It'll take weeks, maybe longer, and pushing too hard too fast will only make things worse.
" The doctor arranged the small splints on the bed.
"After that, gentle exercises to rebuild strength and flexibility. And patience. Lots of patience."
Patience. Something Mattie had in short supply, especially when it came to her own limitations.
"I'll make sure she takes care of herself," Dimitri said.
"Good. Now, please—" The doctor gestured toward the door. "Give me space to work. I'll call you when I'm finished."
"I'll be right outside," he said. "In the hallway. Call if you need anything."
"I will." The doctor was already focused on Mattie's hand, his fingers probing gently to assess the damage. "Now go. Let me work."
Dimitri forced himself to walk through the door and close it behind him. He stood in the hallway with his back against the wall, staring at the dresser that Mattie would never restore.
No sounds were coming from the bedroom, and even though it was good that Mattie wasn't in pain and that he couldn't hear the doctor setting the bones in her hand, the silence was oppressive.
Dimitri slid down the wall until he was sitting on the floor, his knees drawn up, his bloodstained hands hanging between them.
He should go down to the lab and wash them, but he couldn't bring himself to move.
Now that the adrenaline was fading, he felt the exhaustion it had been masking.
The fight had taken more out of him than he'd realized, and his body ached despite his enhanced healing repairing the damage.
Mattie's injuries were his fault.
She'd sensed instinctively that it wasn't safe for her out there, but he'd pushed her to leave the safety of the lab.
She'd trusted him, even though she shouldn't have, and now she had one more injury to her already battered body, one more ache to contend with when the weather changed or when she exerted herself.
Some protector he was.
He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, letting the silence wash over him. Behind the closed door, the doctor was working, setting bones, applying splints, and doing whatever was necessary to repair the damage that should never have been inflicted.
Dimitri waited.
It felt like hours, though it couldn't have been so long before the door finally opened and the doctor emerged. He looked satisfied, which was encouraging.
Dimitri scrambled to his feet. "Is she okay?"
The doctor nodded. "The bones are set and splinted. I gave her something to keep her under while I worked, and it will be a while before she wakes up. You should sit by her side and watch her. Just don't try to wake her early and don't disturb the splints."
"Got it," Dimitri said.
The physician reentered the room to take his bag.
"I'll come back tomorrow to check on her progress.
Keep her hand elevated, keep her comfortable, and don't let her do anything more than go to the bathroom or pick up a cup with her other hand.
I left a container of painkillers on the nightstand.
She can take two every four hours, three if it gets really bad, but no more than that. Understand?"
"Yes, I understand. Thank you."
"You're welcome," the doctor said and headed to the staircase.
Dimitri watched him go, then turned and walked into the room.
Mattie lay exactly where he'd left her, but she looked different now.
More peaceful, somehow, despite the heavy bandaging that encased her right hand and wrist. The splints held her fingers straight, and the white wrapping was clean and professional, nothing like the bloody, mangled mess he'd been trying not to look at earlier.
He crossed to the bed and sank down on the other bed so he wouldn't disturb her. Her face was relaxed in sleep, the pain lines smoothed away, her breathing deep and even.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered, reaching out to brush a strand of hair from her forehead. "This shouldn't have happened. I should have listened to you. Should have protected you better."