Read Online Bring Me Home for Christmas by Robyn Carr - Free Book Online
Authors: Robyn Carr
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elevated,” he said.
“Denny, it’s going to be real hard to get around, to get cleaned up and dressed and all that. And I appreciate all you’re doing, but no offense, the idea of sitting in that room above the garage without even a TV while you guys hunt and fish and play poker… It sounds awful.”
He let out a little huff of laughter. “Becca, I won’t do that to you. I’ll help you. I’ll make sure you have everything you need. I won’t leave you all alone. I promise. And when you can travel again, I’ll take you home. Why wouldn’t I do that for you?” He reached out and wiped a little tear off her cheek. “How long did the doctor say before you can travel safely?”
“Ten days or so. He wants to see me again before I go.”
“So I’ll make sure you’re taken care of, and then I’ll take you home.”
While the nurse was helping her into the clothes Denny brought her, Becca started to wonder about a few things—like who would help her bathe and dress once she left the hospital? She couldn’t undress in front of Denny. Not now. Not under these circumstances. What a stupid mess.
“Uh-oh,” the nurse said. “Okay, these jeans won’t work. However, I think I can open the right leg in the seam a little bit, so you can stitch it back up later, when the splint has been taken off. I have a seam-ripper at the nurses’ station for just this thing! Sit tight.”
This is going to be an interesting challenge, Becca thought. A broken ankle grounding her was about the furthest thing from her plans.
When the nurse came back, Becca said, “I bet I’m going to need one of those seam-ripper things. All I brought with me was jeans.”
“You can pick one up anywhere they sell sewing supplies,” she said. “And if you don’t want to sacrifice your jeans, have your boyfriend run by Target or Wal-Mart and grab a couple of loose-fitting sweat suits. After the doctor takes the splint off to remove the stitches, he’ll give you a soft, protective boot or shoe that you can take off for bathing and dressing. No need to rip up all your jeans. Borrow a pair of your boyfriend’s socks—pull one over your splint to cover your toes. It’s winter out there, girl!”
“Right,” Becca said. “Um, exactly how am I supposed to, you know, shower?”
“Well, for the rest of this week, I recommend a sink full of water and a washcloth. That’s really the safest method. Put a towel across the toilet cover, sit down on it, wash up.”
“And my hair?” she asked with a little catch in her voice. She couldn’t believe she was about to cry, but the idea of greasy, flat, smelly hair just about brought her to her knees. She’d always been so fastidious!
“Stick your head in a deep sink and shampoo. Or, kneel beside the tub and use the tub spigot—just don’t stand on the foot. For today, want me to braid it for you?”
“I’ll do it,” she said, taking the offered comb and working it through her long hair. Little bits of mud were still coming off. When she got all the tangles out, she began to work her fingers through her hair, putting it in a quick and neat French braid.
“Wow, you’re good at that,” the nurse said. “You’re going to find that for the next few days, just washing up can wear you out. Some of that’s the effects of anesthesia. You’ve had an injury and your body is spending lots of energy trying to heal. Start with your hair—it doesn’t have to be shampooed every day. Rest a bit, then tackle the sponge bath. Next week, try a bath, hanging your right leg out of the tub. I know you probably prefer a shower but balancing on one leg to keep weight off your injured ankle is not only going to be difficult, it’s risky. Plus, your leg needs to stay completely dry.”
“And if I want to take a shower?”
“You can pull a small trash bag over the splint and tape it to your leg with surgical tape. Or you can wrap a bunch of self-adhesive saran around it. It’s amazing
“Denny, it’s going to be real hard to get around, to get cleaned up and dressed and all that. And I appreciate all you’re doing, but no offense, the idea of sitting in that room above the garage without even a TV while you guys hunt and fish and play poker… It sounds awful.”
He let out a little huff of laughter. “Becca, I won’t do that to you. I’ll help you. I’ll make sure you have everything you need. I won’t leave you all alone. I promise. And when you can travel again, I’ll take you home. Why wouldn’t I do that for you?” He reached out and wiped a little tear off her cheek. “How long did the doctor say before you can travel safely?”
“Ten days or so. He wants to see me again before I go.”
“So I’ll make sure you’re taken care of, and then I’ll take you home.”
While the nurse was helping her into the clothes Denny brought her, Becca started to wonder about a few things—like who would help her bathe and dress once she left the hospital? She couldn’t undress in front of Denny. Not now. Not under these circumstances. What a stupid mess.
“Uh-oh,” the nurse said. “Okay, these jeans won’t work. However, I think I can open the right leg in the seam a little bit, so you can stitch it back up later, when the splint has been taken off. I have a seam-ripper at the nurses’ station for just this thing! Sit tight.”
This is going to be an interesting challenge, Becca thought. A broken ankle grounding her was about the furthest thing from her plans.
When the nurse came back, Becca said, “I bet I’m going to need one of those seam-ripper things. All I brought with me was jeans.”
“You can pick one up anywhere they sell sewing supplies,” she said. “And if you don’t want to sacrifice your jeans, have your boyfriend run by Target or Wal-Mart and grab a couple of loose-fitting sweat suits. After the doctor takes the splint off to remove the stitches, he’ll give you a soft, protective boot or shoe that you can take off for bathing and dressing. No need to rip up all your jeans. Borrow a pair of your boyfriend’s socks—pull one over your splint to cover your toes. It’s winter out there, girl!”
“Right,” Becca said. “Um, exactly how am I supposed to, you know, shower?”
“Well, for the rest of this week, I recommend a sink full of water and a washcloth. That’s really the safest method. Put a towel across the toilet cover, sit down on it, wash up.”
“And my hair?” she asked with a little catch in her voice. She couldn’t believe she was about to cry, but the idea of greasy, flat, smelly hair just about brought her to her knees. She’d always been so fastidious!
“Stick your head in a deep sink and shampoo. Or, kneel beside the tub and use the tub spigot—just don’t stand on the foot. For today, want me to braid it for you?”
“I’ll do it,” she said, taking the offered comb and working it through her long hair. Little bits of mud were still coming off. When she got all the tangles out, she began to work her fingers through her hair, putting it in a quick and neat French braid.
“Wow, you’re good at that,” the nurse said. “You’re going to find that for the next few days, just washing up can wear you out. Some of that’s the effects of anesthesia. You’ve had an injury and your body is spending lots of energy trying to heal. Start with your hair—it doesn’t have to be shampooed every day. Rest a bit, then tackle the sponge bath. Next week, try a bath, hanging your right leg out of the tub. I know you probably prefer a shower but balancing on one leg to keep weight off your injured ankle is not only going to be difficult, it’s risky. Plus, your leg needs to stay completely dry.”
“And if I want to take a shower?”
“You can pull a small trash bag over the splint and tape it to your leg with surgical tape. Or you can wrap a bunch of self-adhesive saran around it. It’s amazing
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