Read Online Evidence of Mercy by Terri Blackstock - Free Book Online Page B

we’ve started you on it today, in your IV. It all depends on the extent of the nerve damage. We just have to be patient and hope for the best. Meanwhile, you’ll start working with the physical therapist and occupational therapist this morning to keep your joints and muscles working.”
    â€œI can’t move,” Jake scoffed. “How can I work my muscles or joints?”
    â€œThey’ll do it for you. But Jake. . . .” He touched Jake’s arm, forcing him to look up at him. “As hard as your therapy is going to be, you have to cooperate. Those therapists are going to get you functioning as well as possible, but you have to work really hard. Harder than you’ve ever worked before.”
    â€œI don’t want to work at being a functional invalid,” Jake countered. “I’d rather just give it all up.”
    â€œWell, that’s not one of your choices,” Dr. Randall said, still kindly. “You flat-lined in the ambulance, but the paramedics brought you back. And later, when the worst part of this is behind you, you’re going to be glad they did.”
    â€œThey should have let me die,” he said through dry, cracked lips. “I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to do this.”
    â€œNo one ever does, Jake,” the doctor told him. “But you’re going to.”
    â€œWhat about her ?” he asked. “The plane’s owner. Did she make it?”
    â€œYes, she survived,” Randall assured him.
    â€œIs she paralyzed, too?”
    The doctor seemed to know where this was going. “No. She broke some ribs, damaged her spleen, but she was lucky.”
    Jake’s face reddened. “Terrific,” he bit out. “And I’m lying flat on my back.” Gritting his teeth, he slammed his fist on the bed. “It wasn’t even my plane!”
    â€œThere’ll be anger, Jake,” the doctor said. “But you’ll get through it. You’ll need support. Call all of your family and friends to rally around you. Don’t underestimate how much they can help.”
    Jake didn’t respond, for the tears were blurring the one eye he had left, constricting his throat, making him so angry he could have killed someone if he’d just had a weapon.
    Family, he scoffed bitterly. Friends.
    Didn’t the doctor realize that he didn’t want anyone to see him like this?
    Dr. Randall left him then with the monitors and machines humming in his room, with the IV dripping through a tube in his arm, with the nasogastric tube in his nose draining the bile that kept rising.
    Who would have believed it when he’d gotten up yesterday morning, all enthusiasm and hope?
    He wished he’d never decided to buy a plane of his own; he wished he’d never picked up the aviation magazine that had advertised the Piper in its classified ads; he wished he’d never met Lynda Barrett.
    It seemed like a year ago that he came bouncing down the steps of the Biltmore, introducing himself to the blonde—now he couldn’t even remember her room number—and riding off in his Porsche. He wondered whether anyone had contacted the manager of the Biltmore to get his stuff or called the moving company about storing his furniture. Was anyone watching his car?
    But who? It wasn’t as if he had anyone here he could call. He was new in town and completely alone. Flat on his back or not, he was on his own.
    The thought sent rage spiraling up inside him, anger that he didn’t know how to direct. Why had this happened to him? Why not her? She was the one who’d taken him up in a busted plane.
    As if in answer to his thoughts, the nurse who’d been hovering over him all morning came to his door. “Jake, is it all right if Lynda Barrett visits you for just a minute? If you’re not up to it, I’ll send her away.”
    Jake looked at the door with his remaining good eye, welcoming the opportunity