Chapter 5
CHAPTER
FIVE
Mongrel
I wake up far earlier than normal. Ever since I went from ranch hand to prospect, my alarm has mostly been silent.
I still tend to get up earlier than most of my brothers, and I also go out and help Pancho and Luis when I can if there’s nothing going on club wise but actually setting my alarm hasn’t been done since I became a full patch brother.
“It’s too early for this shit,” I mumble as I roll out of bed and head to my ensuite.
I’m supposed to shower with a special soap, which I picked up on my way back from dinner.
Even though they’ll disinfect the area once I’m in the operating room, it’s apparently an important part of what I have to do to be ready.
As the water heats, I strip out of the sleep pants I typically wear and toss them in the hamper, before I step beneath the warm spray.
Reading the bottle, I realize that I have to allow this soap to stay on the surgical area for a minimum of five minutes.
Rolling my eyes, I get started, washing my hair first before I pump some out of the container and start lathering it on my shoulder, arm, and upper chest. While it sits, I wash the rest of my body, sighing when I realize that for the foreseeable future, not having my other hand and arm to do this is going to make it a huge pain in the ass.
Because in Texas, especially this time of the year, the temperatures are high enough that it’s almost mandatory to shower twice a day.
Otherwise, you end up feeling miserable with swamp ass.
With wearing a leather cut, jeans, and a T-shirt most days, I’m always a hot, sweaty mess by the time I’m back at the clubhouse for the night.
Once I estimate that it’s been at least five minutes, possibly more, I finish rinsing myself then step out of the shower, grabbing a clean towel to dry off.
Finally satisfied that it’s as good as it’s gonna get, I brush my teeth, comb my hair, then swipe on some moisturizer.
I think it was either Issy or Livy who got all the brothers skincare items last Christmas.
They took a lot of shit, but I grin as I remember Issy telling Rio that she was trying to protect his skin.
It’s got SPF in it, don’t remember how much, but it’s sufficient to protect us when we’re out and about.
“Now, what the hell do I wear?” I grumble as I stare at my dresser.
Sighing, I grab a pair of lightweight sweats and slide them on over my boxer briefs, then head to the closet.
I’ve never been the type to wear a button-up shirt, not even when I was a kid, so I’m kind of limited on what I can wear.
I finally grab a plain T-shirt. I’ll ask Doc what he thinks I should buy for after the surgery.
I mean, when I’m in my room, I can go shirtless, but I won’t disrespect the ol’ ladies of the club by roaming around the common area or kitchen without one.
I slip on some socks and a pair of tennis shoes, grinning when I think about how many pairs of them I’ve gone through over the years.
These aren’t used for running anymore because the grip isn’t there, but they’re perfect for knocking around, and my motorcycle boots won’t go with sweats.
But my cut is non-negotiable, so I slip that on then head out of my room to go downstairs.
“Oh, my God, what are you doing?” Gretchen shrieks as she walks into the kitchen.
I’m sitting there, my head bowed over a steaming cup of black coffee. A smirk dances on my lips when she walks over and snatches the mug out from under me. “What?” I ask, my expression innocent.
“You. Cannot. Drink. Or. Eat. Before. Surgery,” she snarls as she dumps the full cup into the sink. “How much did you drink, Mongrel?” she asks as she stomps back over to the table.
“Of?” I question, looking at her.
I hear a slight chuckle and glance over my shoulder to see Doc standing there, his hands crossed over his chest. I suspect he knows what I’m doing right now, but he’s playing along.
“Coffee!” she exclaims. “I swear to God, sometimes men are so dense! I just poured out a whole cup of coffee—” her voice falters and her eyes widen before she smacks me on the shoulder. “Dammit, Mongrel, you had me going for a minute there!”
I burst out laughing, Doc joining us as she turns a gimlet on the two of us. “If you could see your face,” I stammer through my chuckles. I might be a bit grumpy when I don’t get my morning hit, but when the idea for this prank came to me, it changed my perspective.
“Just see if I don’t find a new taste tester,” she threatens, tapping her toe.
“You wouldn’t,” I reply. “I’m the best one you’ve got!”
“I’m sure I can get one of the girls to do it. C’mon, we need to head to the hospital,” she commands as she walks toward Doc. Then, she shoulder checks him and goes through the door, leaving the two of us behind.
“You’re going to have to grovel,” he says as he stands upright. “I’m finding that she can hold a serious grudge.”
“I’ve got it,” I promise as I stand, my phone already in my hand. I show him what I’ve added to my cart and he nods.
“That should go a long way toward getting you back in her good graces,” he replies. “Now, let’s get this done so the healing can begin.”
We’re at the surgery center and I am glaring at Gretchen as she gleefully takes pictures of me in the stupid gown and hat that I had to put on. “Will you stop?” I growl out.
“But why? This is so much fun. Just wait until I video you while you’re high on the good stuff,” she teases.
“Whatever,” I grumble as I pick my phone up from where I set it on my chest. “Damn, I feel like we’ve been waiting forever.”
“It’s the hurry-up-and-wait syndrome,” Doc says. “The next one through the curtain will probably be the nurse to confirm, once again, what you’re having done and what body part is involved.”
“Again?” I ask. “I’ve already told the first nurse who did all this,” I add, waving my right arm with the IV. “Then, I told the anesthesiologist when he went over my medical history, plus the doctor!”
“It’s part of the process,” Doc replies. “This last one will actually mark your shoulder.”
“Dr. Albertson already initialed it,” I retort.
As predicted, a nurse comes through but she’s apparently one of the surgical nurses.
Once again, I go over my medical history, what surgery I’m going to have and watch with a little bit of amusement as she also marks my shoulder.
“We’ll be back in a few minutes to get you and get this party started,” she says as she heads back through the curtain.
“Joy,” I grumble, causing Doc and Gretchen to burst out laughing.
Glaring at the two of them, I say, “I haven’t had coffee or breakfast, I’m lying here in a hospital gown that isn’t tied in the back and no underwear on, and these stupid ass bright yellow socks.
” At this point, Gretchen is laughing so hard she’s crying and Doc is slapping his thigh. “You’re both assholes.”
“Alrighty, we’re going to add a little bit of happy juice to your IV, then once we’re sure you’re numb, we’ll do the nerve block, I’ll put you to sleep, and then Dr. Albertson will get started with fixing your shoulder,” the anesthesiologist informs me.
“Works for me,” I reply as whatever he just put in my IV hits. “Holy shit.”
I don’t remember much after that, to be honest, but it only feels like a few minutes before I’m in the recovery area, moving my head away from a misted spray that’s pointed at my face.
“Oh, goody, you’re awake,” Gretchen says, walking over to the hospital bed. “How do you feel?”
“Numb, sleepy, thirsty,” I reply.
She turns toward a table, and I see a cup with a straw in it. “The nurse will come back in a few minutes to get you a snack and something else to drink, but water will do in a pinch.”
As the cool water hits my throat, the soreness that was there slowly dissipates. “Tastes good.” Now that my initial thirst is slaked, I ask, “How did it go? Was he able to do the keyhole surgery?”
Doc, who’s been standing there watching without saying a word, nods. “He said it was a textbook surgery, Mongrel.”
“Thank fuck,” I reply. “How soon can we go home?”
“Well, you have to be able to piss on your own, first of all, then they’ll let you go,” Doc states.
I sigh and look at the IV still in my arm then wave it in the air. “So, I’m supposed to go when this arm is hampered by a metal pole and tubing, and my other one by bulky bandaging and a sling?”
Doc chuckles as he makes his way to my bedside. “I’ll help you up, brother,” he says as he raises the back so I’m sitting upright. “Alrighty, now, turn but don’t try to get down until I’m in position.”
I roll my eyes but do as he says since he’s the one with medical experience. “Now what?”
Moving to my right side, he grabs the IV pole and maneuvers it so it’s closer, then he gets me up with his arm, keeping it around me as I wobble slightly. We slowly start walking toward the restroom and then I hear Gretchen giggling.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.
“Not that I’d ever ask, but it’s obvious right now that you do have a tan,” she teases, “because the moon is shining in West Texas right now.” Doc barks out a laugh before he steadies me and quickly ties the back of my gown which was left untied after surgery.
Meanwhile, I give her the stink eye until she waves her phone and singsongs, “It’s payback for your stunt this morning. ”
Shaking my head, I wait for Doc to continue to lead me to the bathroom and when we’re far enough away, I whisper, “She’s evil.”
“She holds a mean grudge, brother, I told you that,” he replies.
“Huh, bet she’ll feel bad when those packages arrive,” I predict. When he goes to follow me inside, I hold my hand up. “Think I got it from here and can hold my own dick, Doc.”
He raises his brow at me, then motions for me to carry on. “I’ll wait until you’re done, but all jokes aside, Mongrel, if you start to have any problems or feel faint, you better fucking call out for me. Do you understand?” he asks.
“Got it, brother,” I reply as he carefully closes the door behind me.
Thankfully, there’s a bar I’m able to quasi hold on to while I empty my bladder.
I’m kind of surprised at how long I piss considering that I haven’t drank anything since last night.
Then it occurs to me that I’ve been hooked up to fluids since I arrived at the hospital and it makes complete sense.
All I know is I feel a million times better once I’m done.
Washing my hand is another challenge that I manage to accomplish all on my own, but I can feel myself weakening when I turn around to leave so I call out for Doc.
True to his word, he knocks once then opens the door, managing to grab me before I fall. “Glad to see you didn’t try to do it yourself,” he says.
“Surprisingly, I know my limits,” I retort as he helps me get back into the hospital bed. “Now what?”
“Well, the nurse needs to take out your IV and go over your discharge instructions, then you have to get dressed and we’ll take you back to the clubhouse,” he replies.
“Once we have you settled, I’ll go and grab your prescriptions,” Doc advises as we slowly make our way to my room. “The shitty thing is, you’re not going to be able to sleep lying down, but I found a specialized pillow for you to use. I’ll also get your cooling unit set up as well.”
“How long before the nerve block wears off?” I ask. Based on what I read in the discharge notes, it doesn’t sound like it’s going to be pleasant at all, and I want to be prepared.
“It honestly depends on your metabolism, Mongrel. They just did a single shot injection, which can last up to forty-eight hours, but usually begins to wear off within twenty-four. I’ll be checking on you throughout the night and will probably ask you if you can feel anything so you can take some of the painkillers Albertson prescribed. We call it getting ahead of the pain.”