Covering Kendall(66)

“Drew,” the surgeon said. “This is going to go perfectly and you’re going to have a quick and complete recovery. We’ll see you when you wake up.”

“Thanks, Doc.” He tried to wave at all of them a little, and it was the last thing he remembered before he awoke in a dimly lit recovery room with two nurses peering down at him.

“Drew, it’s time for you to wake up,” one of them said.

“Nooo,” he said, and he tried to shake his head. His throat was raw. It friggin’ hurt. “Where’s my mom?” he tried to say. He couldn’t get anything out but a whisper, and his throat was so dry.

“We’ll let your mom come in here as soon as we get your vitals and help you walk a little.”

“Walk.” Not only no, but hell, no. He was staying in this nice warm bed.

“Yes.”

“Where’s Kendall?” No sound came out. He needed some fucking water, which didn’t seem to be making an appearance anytime soon. “Water.”

“We’ll let you have some ice chips in a few minutes.” He’d almost forgotten how much fun it was to wake up post-op. He’d love to go back to sleep for a few hours, but these two were all over him every time he closed his eyes again.

“Oh, no, Drew. You need to get up and walk a little before we let you have ice chips or something to eat. How do you feel about graham crackers? We’ve got some apple juice for you too. You can have a snack right after we get you to your room.” Maybe he got dropped off at the local preschool or something. Graham crackers and apple juice? He’d prefer beer.

The nurses were helping him to a sitting position. His shoulder was packed and immobile. He couldn’t use his right arm at all. He didn’t even want to think about how he was going to pee when he went home. It wasn’t like he was asking his mom to help him out on that one.

Shit.

If he forced himself to walk a little for them, he could get out of the recovery room and find somewhere with refreshments and ESPN. He hoped these two nurses lifted weights or something; they didn’t look strong enough to keep a 250-pound man upright.

“Here we go,” the brunette nurse said. She wrapped her arm around his waist, careful to avoid his packed shoulder. Her blonde colleague slid one arm around him as well and steadied his arm by taking his (good) hand. “We’ll take it easy today. No wind sprints.”

Like that was funny right now.

Half an hour later, the nurses and his surgeon signed off on his returning to a hospital room for the night. They wanted to monitor things with his shoulder. Whatever. He wanted to know where his mom was and where Kendall was, and not necessarily in that order. The nurses wheeled in his bed, set up all the various accoutrements someone who’d been out of surgery for an undisclosed amount of time seemed to need, and tucked a blanket around his legs as they raised the head of his bed to a sitting position.

“Okay, Drew, we promised. Your snack is coming up.”

They doled out a couple of graham crackers and a small plastic bottle of apple juice. He glanced out the window. Dusk was falling. In other words, he’d been in the recovery room a hell of a lot longer than he thought, and he was pretty hungry as well.

His mom breezed through the door to his room seconds later, trailed by his dad.

“Honey!” She hurried across the room to kiss his cheek. “How are you feeling? I wanted to sit in the recovery room with you, but they wouldn’t let me. I was so worried. The surgery took a lot longer than the doctor told us and we knew nothing until about an hour ago.”

“Your shoulder was a challenge, Son,” his father said. He reached out to grasp Drew’s still-working hand.

“The doctor says he thinks it will heal up, but it might take longer than he anticipated,” his mom said. “You might also need an additional surgery later.”

His throat still hurt like a mother, but hand gestures weren’t working at the moment for the questions he wanted to ask. “Is he going to come and talk to me about this anytime soon?” Drew said.

“Of course, honey. Is that all they gave you to eat? You must be starving.” She began rooting through her purse. “I know I have some crackers or something in here . . .”

The brunette nurse chose that moment to walk back into Drew’s room.

“He’s hungry,” his mother told her. “He needs more food.”

“Let’s see if he keeps what we just gave him down first,” the nurse said. “Can I find you another chair or two, Mrs. McCoy?”

“That would be great.”

Two sturdy folding chairs materialized minutes later. The nurse was checking his IV again, taking his pulse, blood pressure, and listening to his heartbeat. She put a small plastic basin next to him in the bed.