Once Shattered, Twice Shy

  Acknowledgments

  I want to acknowledge the support of my mother and grandfather, as well as the support and assistance of Paul Quinn, Niki Parker, Charity McAdams, and Arlene Hill. Thank you all very much.

  I also want to thank Sue Adams, Paul Richmond, Catt Ford, and everyone at Dreamspinner Press.

  Once Shattered, Twice Shy

  AS HE flew up into the air, Wade just had time to think, this can’t end well.

  He was right. He landed flat on his back on the dirt with a solid thud that winded him. His arms were in a ninety-degree-angle position similar to a cartoon character in a stick-’em-up situation, except that, flat on his back, his upper arms were outstretched to the side, even with his shoulders, while the elbow to the hand stuck upward from the earth. It was the loud crack that let him know bones must be broken, more than any immediate pain. He sat up and looked to his right at the eight-foot wooden fence he had almost slammed into and realized he could have broken his neck. He looked to his left and saw the large oak-tree stump he had also narrowly missed hitting with his shoulder. Unfortunately his left elbow had landed quite forcibly on an exposed root extending from the base of the stump. He noticed some skin and blood on the wood and immediately grabbed his left arm and held it bent close to his stomach.

  I have to get out of here before I pass out, he thought as he looked at the piles of wood and oak chunks. Mom could never get me out of here and neither could paramedics.

  He struggled to his feet and managed to clamber over the woodpiles, walk across the driveway to the back door, and enter the kitchen. His mother, Lorraine, was in the living room reading.

  “Mom?”

  “Yes?”

  “I think I’ve broken my arm.”

  “What?” She slammed her book down and struggled to get off the sofa. “Oh, my God! What happened?”

  Wade opened his mouth to speak when Lorraine waved her hand in the air. “Never mind, tell me in the car. I’ve got to get you to the urgent care up the road.”

  “Will you be okay to drive?”

  “Yes. Let’s just pray I don’t have a vertigo attack on the way.”

  Wade stood in the middle of the kitchen, holding his left arm as still as possible while his mother grabbed her purse and her walking cane. She propped open the back storm door so that Wade could walk down the two steps to the carport without anything hitting his arm. She locked up the house, turned, and opened the car door. “You need to ride in the backseat. I don’t think we should try to put a seat belt on you.”

  Wade nodded and got into the car, aware that time was starting to move slowly. Is this what shock feels like? he wondered as his mother closed the car door behind him and got into the driver’s side, tossing her cane and purse into the passenger seat.

  “Which urgent care should we go to?” she asked as she drove out of the driveway and turned north.

  “Whichever. Does it matter?”

  “I can’t remember which one is associated with which hospital.”

  “Just pick one. I don’t care.”

  They arrived at the urgent care office in five minutes. Lorraine was wobbly when she got out of the car, but Wade was too distressed to worry about it. The pain was beginning to register, and it was not pleasant.

  The woman at the front desk smiled as they approached.

  “I think I’ve broken my left arm,” Wade said in what he hoped was a calm voice.

  The woman said, “I’m so sorry, but our X-ray machine is broken. We have someone coming, but it’ll be at least an hour. You should go to the urgent care a mile down the road. Do you know where it is?”

  “Yes, we know,” Lorraine snapped. “We passed it on the way here. We thought this would be better since your hospital is in this county.”

  They got back in the car, and Lorraine said, “I can’t believe this! I’m so sorry.”

  They arrived at the second urgent care unit in a few minutes.

  Wade shuffled up to the receptionist window. “I think I’ve broken my left arm. Does your X-ray machine work?”

  “Yes, it does. Oh, my goodness. I’ll make sure you’re next in line. Will you be able to fill out these forms?”

  “My mother can do it. She’s right behind me.”

  Lorraine walked up to the desk and took the clipboard from the receptionist.

  Wade looked around the room for a place to sit. There were six or seven people scattered about the waiting room. Most of them were sniffling or coughing, so Wade did not feel bad about jumping the queue. He was vaguely aware there were more people than normal waiting for help, even for a Saturday.

  Lorraine filled out the forms and handed them back to the receptionist. When she sat down, she looked at Wade with alarm. “How are you doing?”

  “I’m not sure. My arm hurts.”

  “You’re very pale. I hope they see you quickly.”

  Wade had lost all concept of time, and there were no clocks on the walls to help him keep track. He felt like he was floating in limbo. While they waited to be called into an examining room, he focused on breathing in and out in a regular rhythm in the hope that it would help alleviate the pain.

  PLANTING THE bamboo had seemed like such a good idea at the time. There were huge gaps in the plant growth near the fencing around the property line, thanks to some pine trees getting tall enough to block the sun from the briars underneath. Blackberries had flourished for many years, but were now thinning out, and they needed something hardy to replace them. The noise and sight lines from all the new parking lots built around his mother’s property were very annoying. Everyone said bamboo was the perfect solution. It would grow like kudzu and remain a barrier year-round. Even Wade, at six foot five, would quickly be dwarfed by these plants. Lorraine liked the idea.

  So Wade had bought six plants that spring and had them shipped to his mother’s address. He carefully picked bare spots where the plants would get enough sun and have room to spread. He ducked and bent and wended his way through the wild growth to the far corners of the property, thankful for years of yoga classes. He hauled the plants by himself and dug the holes. He put fertilized soil in the bottom and mulched the top of each plant. As per instructions, he put chicken wire around the base to protect the bamboo shoots from destructive squirrels. He watered all six plants regularly—an easy job in the spring, but once summer came and the flora on the two-acre property flourished, he had a tougher job getting the hoses to the more remote plants. Wade purchased extra hoses and ran them from the plants to the edge of the underbrush so that he could connect a hose from the house without having to fight his way through briars and wildlife. He did not buy hoses for the two plants along the fence in the old dog-pen area because all he had to do was climb over old chunks of a cut-down oak tree. That would not be a problem.

  Or so he thought.

  WADE WAS vaguely aware that at least two people in the waiting room were called in ahead of him. He was not sure of what to do and did not want to make a scene, but the pain was getting worse. He got up and walked to the reception desk on the pretext of checking information.

  “I just wanted to make sure my mother put down I’m allergic to penicillin.”

  The receptionist looked up at Wade with a startled expression and said, “They haven’t come for you yet?”

  “No.”

  “I’m telling them right now to come and get you,” she declared as she grabbed the phone and punched in an extension number.

  “Thank you,” Wade replied and turned to go sit down again.

  “What’s happening?” Lorraine asked.

  “They forgot us.”

  “Typical,” Lorraine huffed as a door to their right opened and a short brunette woman in
scrubs announced, “Wade Meadows!”

  “That’s me,” he answered. He looked at his mother. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

  The brunette in scrubs asked what had happened, and Wade told her. She took him for some X-rays and led him to an examining room. He sat up on the table, holding his arm bent at a ninety-degree angle, clutching it protectively to his stomach. The nurse kept trying to get him to bend his arm farther so that his hand was over his heart, but he kept telling her it hurt too much and was better the way it was.

  “I’m just trying to see what sort of movement you can do.”

  “Well, I can’t do that!”

  “Just hold it the way you’re doing it until the doctor gets here.”

  The pain was increasing and Wade felt his temper getting shorter when the doctor walked into the room. He was at least six feet tall, in his early thirties, blond, with a chiseled jawline and obviously very muscular under his green scrubs. Wade immediately sat up straight, which caused shooting pains in his left arm. He winced. Well, fuck. I’m finally in the presence of a good-looking man and I’m sweaty, dirty, and in great pain. I look like hell. Typical.

  Doctor Blondie asked Wade several questions, talked about the X-rays, and explained that it was difficult to see exactly what was wrong, but there was definitely some breakage.

  The nurse kept trying to get Wade to bend his arm farther up, and finally he said in an exasperated tone, “If I start crying, would you stop doing that?”

  She paused in her machinations and let go of his arm.

  Doctor Blondie told her to get a splint and a sling to keep the arm still. He turned to Wade. “You really need to go to the emergency room. We can’t treat this properly here. We’re going to immobilize your arm as best we can, so there isn’t any further damage.”

  “Thank you.”

  When they had finished putting a splint on his arm and given him a sling, Wade went out into the waiting room. Lorraine rose, and the nurse told her to drive him to the emergency room at Northside Hospital.

  They got in the car and Wade told her what had happened.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t think to drive you to the emergency room to begin with,” Lorraine said.

  “I didn’t think of it either. Besides, the urgent care offices are right nearby. You’re less likely to have a vertigo attack driving for a few minutes. Northside is a thirty-minute drive if we’re lucky.”

  “Well, now that we have the time, you can tell me what happened.”

  “I was checking on the bamboo plants near the fence, to make sure they’re getting enough water. I’d finished and was ready to climb out of there, but instead of stepping on the oak tree chunks I normally use to get out, I stepped on a different one, and it wasn’t stable. It wobbled, and I flew into the air and landed on my back, and my left elbow slammed against a root sticking out from the oak-tree stump, and I heard a loud crack.”

  “Jesus. I’m so sorry. I don’t even know what to say.”

  “Just focus on driving.”

  They eventually pulled into the emergency room parking lot at Northside, hurried to the front desk, and went through the same routine as at the urgent care. This time Wade was taken back to a room more quickly, but he was placed in the far-end cubicle of a three-cubicle room. He lay down on the bed and held his arm against his abdomen, aware of the ever-increasing pain.

  At least here there was a clock on the wall. Wade watched the minutes tick past as he listened to the people in the other cubicles talking about their injuries: a woman who had oozing sores in places he did not care to think about in great detail, and a man who had something wrong with his leg. Each patient was talking with another person, which caused Wade to wonder why they had not let his mother come with him. He felt the familiar pang of loneliness that hit him in stressful situations.

  At times like these, he really wished he had a partner to help take some of the burden off him. He smiled to himself as he realized the folly of this thought. A partner did not automatically mean helpful support. Vernon had been no help at all in a crisis. In fact, he would have found some way to make this experience all about himself. Narcissistic alcoholic.

  “If that’s not redundant,” he mumbled aloud and smiled again.

  However, each movement of the large wall clock counted out a different occasion when Wade had had to be both patient and responsible person at the same time. He could not freak out because he had to remain calm in order to explain what was going on, hear what the doctors said, and make sure he understood. As a result he appeared very stoic when in reality he was in internal hysterics. Even now he could not let himself give in to the myriad emotions he was feeling. He must remain calm and take care of himself.

  A woman came into his cubicle and interrupted his reverie. He had perked up at finally getting some help when she dashed his expectations with a perky but firm “We need your credit card to process your co-pay.”

  Thirty more minutes passed before Wade was taken to another room for more X-rays and more disagreements about how far he should move his arm. When he came out of the X-ray room, he saw a woman in scrubs leading his mother down the corridor.

  “What’s been going on?” Lorraine asked when she saw Wade.

  “I was forgotten again,” he said as he glanced at the nurse. “Although the payment department found me right quick.”

  The nurse remained silent as she escorted them back to the far cubicle. When she left she said, “The doctor should be with you shortly, she just has to look at your X-rays first.”

  “I was getting very worried because you were gone for a really long time,” Lorraine said as she sat down in a chair. “Finally I told the receptionist that I wanted to see my son immediately.”

  “Thanks. I was just staring at the clock and trying to breathe.”

  The doctor entered the cubicle, looked around outside, pulled up a small wheeled stool, and sat down. Her long auburn hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail. She wore a dark blue T-shirt under her white coat. Her makeup was minimal, with just enough eyeliner to give her eyes additional warmth when she spoke.

  “Your arm is definitely broken, but the X-ray was a bit fuzzy. I recommend you see an orthopedist as soon as possible. I know it’s Saturday, but call your regular doctor’s office and see if you can see an orthopedist on Monday. In the meantime we’ll put your arm back in the splint. Try to move as little as possible. What pain medication were you given?”

  “I haven’t been given any pain medication yet.”

  The startled doctor glanced behind her at the clock. It was 7:45 p.m.

  “What time did you have your accident?”

  “Three thirty.”

  “You’ve been dealing with this without pain medication for four hours?”

  Wade appreciated the tones of shock, sympathy, and annoyance that rang in her voice as he said, “Yeah. Maybe I should have been more visibly hysterical and screaming. I kept telling people that it really hurts, but no one listened.”

  “There are times when it’s good to be a squeaky wheel,” the doctor said. “Even so, someone should have asked you long before now. I can only apologize and get you some pain medication right now.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Are you allergic to anything?”

  “Penicillin and codeine.”

  “What happens when you take codeine?”

  “It makes me really nauseous and doesn’t do too much for me.”

  “Unfortunately I can’t prescribe you anything stronger without going through the lesser meds first. I’ll write you a prescription for the codeine, but also for a pill that should help with any nausea. Take them both at the same time. This should get you through the next few days until you can see your own doctor.”

  “Okeydoke.”

  “Thank you, Doctor,” added Lorraine.

  After the doctor came back with the prescriptions and properly secured Wade’s arm, Lorraine drove them home and then went to the pharmacy up the road to get h
is medications. Wade waited until she returned before he attempted to take a shower.

  “Keep the doors unlocked so I can get in in case anything happens or you need help,” she said as she handed him a large garbage bag to put over his splint. “Can you make those stairs on your own?”

  “Yes. I’ll go slowly and hold on tight to the railing. I’m more worried about you trying to get up the stairs. Have you felt dizzy at all?”

  “Not yet. It’ll probably hit me later.”

  “Take some meclizine.”

  “Okay.”

  Wade carefully made his way upstairs and into his room. Alone at last, the shock was finally wearing off. He sat down on the edge of the bed and slowly untied his shoes with his right hand and tossed them into a corner. He removed his socks before standing up again to pull off, with some difficulty and a lot of pain, the fortunately loose T-shirt he had been wearing while doing yard work. He made a mental note not to try putting on any pullover shirts, and then peeled off his shorts and underwear.

  Wade walked into the bathroom, got his hairdryer ready on the counter, put towels where he could reach them, and then proceeded to pull the trash bag over his left arm and up to the shoulder. It was a thirty-gallon bag with large blue pull ties. He looped one blue tie over his head to hold the bag on, then pulled the other one tight to try to seal the bag as securely as possible before pinning it with a barrette left over from when he wore his hair longer and used it to keep his hair out of his face while doing yard work.

  He turned on the spigot in the shower, thankful he had installed a detachable showerhead many years ago. He would really need it now.

  The warm water felt good hitting his face. He wanted to wash away the entire day, but that was not possible. He felt so tired, but knew he needed to keep up his energy to bathe. One-armed washing was not going to be easy.

  The pain in his left elbow was increasing, but the pain in his heart was catching up. The loneliness he had kept stifled for several years now was coming to the fore, and he did not have the energy to fight it.