Chapter Twenty-Eight
Dan
“S o does it stop fucking hurting anytime soon?” I grit out as Dr. Eldridge finishes explaining to me and Sejin what he’s done with the rods and pins inside my leg. The x-rays and images look cool as shit, but the radiating agony up into my hip is anything but.
“We can mitigate it with the pain meds, but, as you know, those have other side effects you don’t like—lack of clarity, constipation, etc.
Of course, we want to keep the pain at a manageable level to keep your muscles from tensing and causing more problems. But no, I’m afraid you’re looking at dealing with some measure of discomfort for up to a year. ”
“A year ?” The way Sejin grips my fingers tells me that I’m not the only one to hear the panic in my voice.
“A year at a minimum, to be frank,” Dr. Eldridge says with a hint of what sounds like empathy edging into his matter-of-fact tone.
“I know that’s going to be hard for you.
It always is for athletes. But the good news is you’re young, healthy, and active, and that means you’ll heal faster and better than many others.
It’ll also give you some time to really think about what you want out of life before you do anything so risky again. ”
That last bit is tacked on like a scolding.
I bristle, but Sejin just squeezes my hand tighter and starts asking questions about physical therapy, plan of care, and other things that go right over my head in the buzzing panic that has set in after the words “a year at a minimum.”
Dr. Eldridge goes through the next steps with Sejin, who takes out his phone and starts making notes. In my mind, I play back what I’ve started to remember from the day of my Heart Route free solo attempt.
I woke up in bed with Sejin.
I went out to my van.
That’s it.
I still remember nothing else. I don’t know if the climb went wrong from the start, or if I’d gotten overconfident because I’d been flowing well. I know I’d made the dyno, at least. Otherwise, I’d be dead now and not just a little broken.
“Thank you, doctor.” Sejin rises to shake the man’s hand.
Dr. Eldridge turns to me next. “You were a lucky son of a gun. I hope you know that. You’ll be in good hands with your boyfriend here, and if you do what the physical therapists tell you to do, you’ll be climbing again by next October.”
I rouse enough of the manners Peggy Jo has instilled to say, “Thanks for doing a good job on my leg.”
“Of course, of course.” He clasps my hand and leans close. “Don’t let me see you again, alright? Not here in the hospital and not as a grim news report. Got it?”
“Got it.”
He sweeps out of the room like a man with somewhere important to be, and he probably does. I’ve never had anywhere to go that required sweeping away like that, but it’s impressive. I decide to try it sometime to see how it feels—when I can walk again.
“Well,” Sejin starts, and he sounds tired. “I guess the first thing we need to do is figure out how to get you home.”
“Rye’s coming for us this afternoon. In your car, I think.”
“Oh yeah, right. Good.” He rubs his head. “I’m discombobulated. There’s so much going on.”
“He’ll be here…” I check my phone. “Probably before they get me checked out.”
I reach out for his hand again, and he gives it to me. “You’ve been great.”
I want him to know I appreciate all he’s doing for me. He doesn’t have to, after all. We’ve only been dating a couple of months. “All those questions you had for him? I’d never have known to get that information.”
“It’s no problem.”
“How’d you know to ask about that stuff?”
“My mom,” he offers with a sad smile. “There were lots of hospital visits and plans of care to be made near the end of her life.”
He clears his throat and stands up, running a hand through his long hair. “Let’s not talk about that, though. You’re going to be fine.”
“Yeah. In a year,” I say bitterly.
Sejin opens his mouth to issue some sort of reply, and from the way his brow furrows and his eyes flash, it’s possibly not going to be a very pleasant one, but he suddenly looks down at his phone and frowns. “Fuck.”
“What?”
“Text from Pete. I have to be at Papa Bear tomorrow. Opening shift.”
“It’s fine.”
“No, it’s not fine. Who’ll take care of you? How will you—”
“Hey, I’ll be all right. I can figure it out on my own.”
“No, you can’t. Didn’t you hear him? You can’t put any weight on your leg, Dan—not even a little—for at least two months.”
“Right. Well, I’ll stay in bed with a pee bottle. It’s fine.”
“No, you’ll need someone to stay with you.
Fuck. I was hoping to have a day or two to figure this out, arrange some caretakers, or something.
” He huffs and scrubs a hand over his face.
“I mean, Pete’s not being a jerk. He’s been great the last three days, letting me off the hook for all my shifts.
But tomorrow he’s got his mom’s 80th birthday party, and Celli’s got a dentist appointment, and Ashley’s out of town, and Gage can’t do it all alone… fuck.”
I hate seeing him stressed. His most beautiful smile never comes over his face when he’s upset. I’d like to see it again sooner rather than later. “Doc, it’s gonna be okay. If I need help, I’ll ask Rye to stay with me during the day. It’s not like he has a real job.”
Sejin shakes his head. “He’s not supposed to stray far from the park for his volunteer position—”
“Calm down.” I say it with a firmness that gets his attention, and he looks up at me with wide eyes. “This isn’t your responsibility. I don’t need you to take care of me. I can handle it all myself. I don’t need you—or Rye, or Peggy Jo, or anyone for that matter—to take care of me.”
Sejin’s eyes narrow dangerously. “You will accept my help, and Rye’s help, and anyone else’s help in this whole world, Dan. Do you understand me? It’s not you against the wall now.” He points his finger at me. “Not this time.”
Sejin walks out of the room with his hair streaming behind him.
I honestly don’t know why he’s so mad. I just wanted him to understand he doesn’t have to do all this, that he doesn’t have to worry about me.
I pick up my phone and call Rye. Maybe he can explain it.
*
Sejin
Leaning against the wall outside of Dan’s hospital room, I try to get myself together. I’m not usually so easy to piss off, but after everything I’ve been through in the last few days, seeing Dan try to make his recovery all about himself is infuriating.
Maybe he doesn’t get it yet because he’s been alone most of his life, but people love him. I love him. Peggy Jo loves him. Rye loves him. He doesn’t have to do this alone, and we won’t let him do it alone.
Which makes me think of my dad and how we’ve pushed each other away since Mom died. I think of all the times I’ve told Leenie that Dad and I are fine, that we don’t need to lean on each other through this, and all the times she’s given me pushback about that.
So maybe I’m being a hypocrite then? Just a little?
But there’s a difference between a physical injury and an emotional one. Dan is going to need someone staying with him during the day to keep him from fucking his leg up even more, and grief isn’t like that. I don’t get more and more fucked up the more I’m alone with my feelings. Right?
I sigh and pull my phone out, looking at the last exchange of messages with my dad. I could have handled that better. He was reaching out to me, offering support, and I shut him down.
If I can’t even accept my dad’s support, how can I expect Dan—Mr. I Live In A Van to Avoid Financial Obligations and Emotional Attachments, Mr. I Free Solo Enormous Rock Walls To Demonstrate My Self-Reliance In This World, Mr. It’s Me Against Gravity, Mr. It’s Me Against Death—to accept that he needs help now?
That he really can’t do this by himself?
Fine, I’ll call my dad later, and for now? Just get a grip, Sejin.
I open the door to his room to apologize for storming out, but I pause, realizing he’s on the phone with someone. After only a moment, I recognize he’s talking with Rye.
“It’s not that I don’t want help from him, Rye, because I like when he helps me,” Dan’s saying. “But I don’t want him thinking he has to help. It’s not like it’s his job.”
Rye must have said something in reply because Dan sighs and says, “We’ve been together two months. He didn’t sign on to help me wipe my ass. He signed on to be fucked mindless and—” He breaks off. “I know it’s more than that. I do. Stop yelling at me.”
He sighs again. “I didn’t call to make you mad too. I called because I don’t know why he’s mad…and now I don’t know why either of you are mad, so I’m hanging up. Come get us as soon as you can. Bye.”
From what I can tell, he does end the call.
I take a slow breath, struggling with the urge to laugh or curse at him.
He’s such a jerk sometimes, and I don’t know entirely what I see in him.
But Rye is correct—it’s a lot more than just sex.
Dan makes me feel alive, and I want to be with him through thick and thin—if he’ll let me.
“Hey,” I say, shutting the door behind me.
Dan’s lying back against the pillows, a confused, almost hopeless expression on his face.
“Hey,” he says warily. “If you’re going to yell at me more, wait until the pain medicine takes effect, at least. Then I won’t feel it so much.”
I huff a small laugh, cross to him, and take his hand. “I’m not going to yell at you.”
“I don’t want you to feel obligated—”
“But I am obligated,” I say. “Because you’re my boyfriend, and I love you. You’d do the same for me, right?”
Dan’s eyes flicker a little angrily. “Of course I would, but—”
“But nothing. We have other things to talk about instead of arguing over whether we’re in love enough to take care of each other when we’re hurt or sick—”
“I do love you that much.”
“So let me do this,” I say, tucking his blankets up around his shoulders. They always keep it so cold in the hospital. “Let me figure out how to take care of you and still meet my other obligations.”
“Alright.”
“Good. The next thing to consider is your plan of care. You’ll eventually need PT, obviously, but you have no insurance.
The hospital bills are going to be—” I shake my head.
“They’re going to be a lot. We can work with the hospital to see about pleading poverty and get some of it written off, but it’s going to require you surrendering whatever’s left in your trust most likely. ”
“Fine.”
“Also, you don’t have the ability to work, especially now, so…we’ll have to figure out another way to get you the necessary PT.”
“Won’t CaliMed pay for it?”
“It can help out, but there’s the problem of you living in Mariposa County, which means someone will either have to drive you to Fresno a few times a week, or we’ll need a therapist to come to the house. I’m not sure how to arrange for that, or how to pay for it. It’s a lot.”
“Right. A lot you don’t need to be worrying about. I can deal with it.”
“While you’re zonked on pain meds? Sure. Go ahead. I’d like to see you try.”
Dan huffs, but he doesn’t argue with me. “So, what are we going to do?”
“I don’t know. We should talk to Rye and Lowell, probably.
They are, or were, in the business of rescuing people, and EMTs and folks like that usually have connections or friends in the health business.
Maybe they know of a PT in the area who can help you at a discounted rate or, hell, simply out of the goodness of their heart. ”
“And if I just don’t get a therapist? If I wing it on my own?”
“Always on your own, huh?” I murmur. “You could try, but I don’t know if you should.
Your leg is seriously messed up. They say if you do everything just right, you’ll be able to climb again, but if you don’t , you could make yourself permanently lame.
A licensed therapist can make sure you’re training the right way so that doesn’t happen. ”
Dan rubs his hands over his face, shaking his head. “ Fuck .”
I pull up a chair and sit in it. “So that’s why I’m stressed out. I need to coordinate all this stuff, and make it to my job at Papa Bear, and we’ll need money, so I have to get back to Tater Tots sooner rather than later too, and—”
“Well, you can’t do it all alone either,” Dan says. “People need to help us both.”
“Yeah.”
“How do I get them to do that?”
I smile and take his hand again. “I guess we’ll have to see if what you’ve been telling me and Peggy Jo is true.”
“What’s that?”
“That you have friends,” I tease.
Dan frowns, biting into his lower lip before muttering, “Oh, hell. I probably don’t.”
“Yeah. You do. You have a few.”