Chapter 8 #2
I get lucky. Pritchett, the head of neurosurgery, is standing just inside the third door I try.
The small, dark anti-chamber is crowded with two techs and one radiologist whom I’ve met in passing, Ferguson.
They’re all staring at me in surprise, but I ignore them, advancing to the window which looks out into the CT room.
A slight female body is lying prone on the table, her head inside the massive machine.
She isn’t moving.
“Harrison.” Ferguson frowns at me. “Why did they page you? This isn’t an ortho case, is it?”
“She’s my patient.” I tear my eyes away from Delta to look over his shoulder at the computer screen where the scan is still in progress. It’s been a long time since my neuro rotation, and I have no idea what I’m looking at besides a brain. I turn desperately to my bemused colleague. “How is she?”
Pritchett hums thoughtfully and leans over Ferguson to tap the screen, staring at it appraisingly for a long moment.
“Grade 3 concussion, and by the looks of it, a small subdural hematoma. Should resolve on its own. Her spine looks good, but they drew blood when she came in, and that came back positive for opioids. No prescription, obviously.” He rolls his eyes like he’s not even a little surprised that a snowboarder was doing drugs, but it feels like I’ve been plunged into ice water.
Opioids.
Fucking opioids?
She’s been using highly addictive prescription painkillers that she got from god-knows-where to get through training, and I had no fucking idea.
Drug abuse happens a lot. I see it almost every day, but I never imagined Delta would take things that far.
How the hell did I not even consider it?
Chronic pain patients are some of the most prone to addiction, and yet I never even thought to check?
I bring a shaking hand to cover my mouth.
It never occurred to me because I was too blinded by my feelings for her. I was thinking like a man besotted, not a doctor, and because of that, I fucked up and missed something.
At her last appointment… the way I took away her medical clearance. I knew she’d be angry. I wanted her to be because it was easier to face her hurt and her anger than the fact I lost complete control of myself and did something I couldn’t take back.
River did this, but so did I.
“Page me when the scans finish, Ferguson. I’ve got to be on this. We’re going to have a lot of eyes on us.” Pritchett looks at me accusingly, like I’ve been keeping secrets. “You must know she’s an Olympian? River Jacobs’ kid?”
I nod, my eyes on Delta’s motionless feet as the hand pressed against my mouth falls back to my side. “Yeah.”
Pritchett whistles. “Girl was probably born with a snowboard strapped to her feet.” He leaves. I stand there for a moment, feeling lost and hollowed out by guilt and fear, before catching sight of a lead smock on the wall.
If Ferguson is wondering why I came running in here at top speed and am breaking hospital protocol to go into a room where an active CT is underway, he doesn’t say anything.
I don’t look back as I push open the door to the room and duck around the lead wall.
Delta is only a few feet away, still motionless beneath the blanket someone wrapped her in.
“Delta?” I say quietly, not sure if she’s conscious and not wanting to startle her. Her foot twitches and my heart leaps. “It’s me. Don’t talk, okay? It will mess up the scans.” I reach the side of the table and take her hand in mine, sagging with relief when she squeezes it.
My confrontation with River, the drugs, all of it fades away as I let that one, all-important truth sink in. She’s alive.
The room is completely silent, apart from the low mechanical humming of the CT machine. “This is actually perfect,” I joke dully. “You’ll have to listen to me.” Her hand grips mine a little tighter, and my eyes burn.
I know I should just be here for her, but she could have died . She could still die, and I feel so raw and terrified that the filters I usually use when I speak to her are nowhere to be found.
I bow my head and squeeze my eyes shut, letting the feeling of her warm skin against mine ground me.
“I’m not sure if you’ve ever heard this before, but you’re worth so much more as a person than you are as a snowboarder.
You’re excellent at what you do, sweetheart, the absolute best, but it’s just one thing . ”
Inside the machine, Delta sniffs.
“You light up the whole room when you walk into it, Delta. You’re funny and clever and strong. So damn strong. Anyone who tells you otherwise is fucking delusional. Every minute of the day, I wish like hell we’d met under different circumstances.”
I’m edging perilously close to a confession.
Any other time I’d be pulling back, trying to minimize my slip, but not now.
Now, I’m so fucking terrified that something might still go terribly wrong.
I’m a doctor. I know how quickly things can go from seemingly fine to critical.
Just because she’s conscious now doesn’t mean she’s okay, and it doesn’t mean something else won’t happen.
I don’t have it in me to worry about the consequences of my words.
What if she dies, and she doesn’t know I’m in love with her?
What if she lives, and she does?
I look up at the graying ceiling tiles and take another long, steadying breath, trying to get my shit together.
“You have no idea what you mean to me, and I want you to have everything, but it’s time to stop, baby.
You can’t keep going like this. I swear I’ll guard the damn chair lift if that’s what it takes.
I’ll throw you over my shoulder every time I see you trying to get back on that mountain.
Fuck what River thinks, fuck what anyone thinks.
This is about you, your life. ” I lace my fingers through hers and lean forward to kiss the back of her hand.
“I know you’re afraid of walking away and what that would mean, but you’ll never lose me.
Do you hear me, Delta? Never. I’m here. I promise. ”
Suddenly, there’s a long beep, and the machine quiets. For a moment, there’s only the sound of our breathing.
“I’m going to pull you out now, Delta,” comes Ferguson’s voice through the intercom system, and the bed starts to move .
I don’t let go of her hand. As she comes into view, I meet a pair of wide gray eyes and see they’re full of tears.