High Hurdles Collection Two (84 page)

Chapter • 6

Dr. Niguri stopped at the door. “How would you like to go home in a week or two?”

“How about tomorrow?” DJ wished she could reach out and grab the words back. Whatever had gotten into her?

Dr. Niguri shook his head, smiling at the same time. “I can tell you are feeling better when you try to bargain. I'd love to send you home tomorrow, today even, but I can't take a chance on that. I've set you up for skin grafts tomorrow, and if they take like I think they will, we'll be seeing you as an outpatient. Or perhaps we can shift your care over to a hospital nearer to your home for rehab therapy. How does all that sound to you?”

“Like good news.” DJ studied her bandaged hands. “How long until I can use my hands?”

“I can't give you a good answer on that. I know ‘it all depends' sounds lame, but there are so many variables yet.”

Will I be able to ride again?
Even the thought made DJ's gut clench.
Come on, ask. Don't be such a chicken
. “But … but …” She sucked in a deep breath that started her coughing. He waited patiently until she caught her breath and could speak again. “Will … will I be able to …” She stopped, unable to force the words past the lump swelling in her throat.

Dr. Niguri sat down on the edge of the bed. “To ride again?”

DJ nodded, unable to look him in the face.
What if he says no? God, I can't stand the thought of never riding again
.

“I don't see why not. It will take time and a lot of hard work to regain your small-muscle control, but I believe it will come back. Damaged nerves grow back, as does muscle. You'll never have your original fingerprints, and there may be more surgeries ahead, but I believe with lots of work, this will happen. The most important thing you can do is keep from getting discouraged.”

“Sometimes I'm so scared,” the whispered words finally came out.

“Perfectly normal. Who wouldn't be? The pain of burns is like no other. Think how people even groan about a sunburn. Burns are painful beyond words, as I know you've figured out. But we can do amazing things these days to restore the burned area to its former beauty and usefulness. You've just got to be patient.”

“It's so hard.”

“I know. Patience has never been my main strength, either.” He leaned back and crossed one ankle over the other knee. “Any other questions?”

“My mom brought in my homework. How can I do that when I keep falling asleep?”

“In bits and pieces. Concentration is difficult when you are still on so much pain medication, but we have to control the pain as much as possible so your body can put its energy into healing. Down the road we can give you some other things that won't mess with your mind so much.”

DJ made a face. “Karen talked with you, huh?”

“Yep. We might have some volunteers here who could read to you. I'll get the nurses to check on that. If this were to be a long-term disability, we could get you set up with a talking computer if someone scanned the pages of your textbooks into it.”

He got to his feet. “I know this gives you a lot to think about, so I'll get these orders written.” He waved the clipboard at her. “Just go easy on the horse kisses, okay?” He winked, patted her foot, and left the room.

“Home … I get to go home.” DJ closed her eyes and pictured her room with all her art supplies and private bath with the Jacuzzi tub. Surely they could put a talking program on her own computer. The boys and Queenie would go crazy when she got there. She could probably get a speaker phone, too. She opened her eyes and looked at her hands. Would she be able to draw again? Not
if
but
when
. “I have to quit thinking about
if
. Bridget would have my head if she heard me talking about
if”

“Talking to yourself, huh?” Karen came into the room to check on the beeping machines. “Hey, I got news for you.”

“What?”

“Guess who I'm going out with tonight?”

“Allen White?”

“Cool, huh?”

“Really cool. Where you going?”

“Dinner and a movie.” Karen reopened a valve on the IV and checked around the needle in DJ's arm. “Lookin' good, kid. You have strong veins and good nurses.”

“I feel like a pincushion. They come for blood, more blood, then give me a shot for this, then another shot for that.”

“I know. Sorry. I'll see if I can find a needle to stick you with now so you don't get too comfortable.”

“Don't bother. But a Popsicle would be good, or ice cream.”

“Coming right up. I'll find someone to feed it to you, too.”

“Never mind, that's what I'm here for.” Gran strolled into the room, followed by GJ.

“We're here.”

“Karen, this is my grandpa. I call him GJ for Grandpa Joe.”

“I met him yesterday, remember? He brought the horse. And thanks to you and all your helpful friends yesterday, they're calling me the horse lady. And I'm not even the one who got kissed.”

“Karen's going on a date with Allen White, the fireman who saved my life.” Funny how it was getting easier and easier to say that. In fact, since DJ's throat was so much better, talking about anything was easier now.

“Well, isn't that a fine idea?” Gran set down her satchel and leaned over to kiss DJ. “I hear Major didn't think you smelled too good.”

“I know. He did the rolled-back-lips thing. So funny.” DJ lifted a hand to what would have been her hair. “Maybe he didn't like my new hairstyle. I shoulda worn my fireman's hat.”

Between Gran and Joe taking turns reading to her and poking her to stay awake, the morning passed quickly. Treatment time arrived before DJ had time to work up a good dread.

“You'll still be here when I get back?”

“Better than that. We'll go with you as far as they let us.”

Joe kept them laughing down the halls as he told about the boys and

Shawna teaching the horses tricks and how Queenie learned one from watching Shawna and Major.

“We'll sit right out here prayin' for you, darlin'. So don't you fret.” DJ blinked away the tears that even the sight of the door to the treatment room brought. “Let's get it over with.”
Please, God, let me faint again
.

When DJ got back to her room, already groggy from the pain meds, the phone rang. Karen answered it. “Just a minute, okay? Let me get her comfortable and then she'd love to chat.”

“Who?” DJ mouthed.

Karen nodded and smiled, all the while settling DJ back in bed, adjusting the nose prongs for oxygen, and tucking the phone between DJ's ear and shoulder.

“Hi, DJ, did you think we'd forgotten you?” Brad Atwood, her biological father, sounded as if he were in the room.

“Hi, Dad. I haven't had much time to think, if you want to know the truth.”

“They say you are doing well.”

“I guess. How are Jackie and Stormy and Herndon?”

“All missing you, like me.” His voice choked. “I'm still having a hard time believing all this happened.” He cleared his throat again. “You up for more visitors?”

“Always. Did you hear who came to see me?” She told him about Major and the Briones bunch and then the firemen.

“Red noses, huh? And Major doesn't think you smell nice. DJ, leave it to you. I bet that turned some of the hospital staff right upside down.”

“I guess. I'll ask Karen, my nurse.” DJ fought to keep her eyes open. “Dad, if you come, come in the evening when I am more awake. This pain stuff makes me so sleepy.” A yawn caught her by surprise. “Give Stormy and Herndon each a horse cookie for me, okay?” Another yawn.

“Should I give Jackie one, too?”

“D-a-d.”

When she hung up, DJ let her eyes shut.

“He sounds mighty nice, like the rest of your family.”

“He is. Stormy is my Arab filly. I helped get her eating after …” She couldn't find words to finish the sentence.

“So you're going out with Allen White?” DJ nodded and grinned at the same time. It was several hours since the treatment, and DJ had returned to the world of the awake.

Karen sucked in a deep breath. “I guess. He's called twice. Seems like a really nice guy.”

“Cute too.” DJ giggled. “Your face is all red.”

“Oh, I got something for you.” Karen dumped several envelopes on the bed. “Mail came. You want me to open them for you?”

“Please.”

“Ah, look at this one.” Karen held up a hand-painted horse's head with a big tear coming from its eye. When she opened the card, DJ read,
I'm not very good with horses yet, but then, you haven't given me much instruction. Get well soon so we can go drawing together. Call me when you can. Sean
.

“So who is this Sean?”

Now it was DJ's turn to blush. She could feel the heat creeping up her neck. “A friend I met at a drawing class.”

“A friend, eh?” Karen looked back at the front of the card. “I'd say he's quite an artist already.”

“He is.” And a good friend, too. DJ closed her eyes for a moment.
Will I ever draw again?
From the look of her hands right now, both drawing and riding seemed utter impossibilities. She swallowed hard and opened her eyes. “You have to tell me about your date, promise?”

“I will.”

That night, just before DJ went to sleep, two people holding hands snuck into her room.

“Karen, what … ?”

“Hi. Karen said you wanted to know how our date went.” Allen White looked as handsome and nice in the dim light as before.

“Well, I mean, I …”

“Look at that, DJ can't think of anything to say.” Karen giggled and patted DJ's leg.

“I can think of something.” Allen gave Karen a look that said more than all his words. “Thanks, DJ, for making her go out with me. If it hadn't been for you, I never would have met her.”

DJ swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Could you hand me a drink, please?”

Exactly two weeks later, DJ went home. The skin grafts took and were spreading. The new artificial skin they used worked even better than her own skin taken from her lower back. The list of instructions was longer than her arm, and she was scheduled for more cleansing treatments at the John Muir Medical Center, only a twenty-minute drive from her house.

Though DJ slept most of the way home, the walk from the car and up the stairs to her bedroom had her in near collapse by the time she could crawl into her own bed.

She stared around the room at all the signs and posters welcoming her home. “Wow. Who did all that?”

“Bobby and Billy did some.”

“I can tell theirs.”

“And each of the rest of us, and Amy and Shawna, and the one with the paw prints you can guess.”

“How'd they get Queenie to walk in red paint?”

“It wasn't easy.” Lindy shuddered. “Took two hours to scrub the paint off the deck.”

“Where are the boys?”