Blame It on the Dog by Jim Toombs

Author:Jim Toombs [Toombs, Jim]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Mulberry eBooks
Published: 2014-01-20T08:00:00+00:00

Gabe awoke to knocking at his door and the sound of someone speaking his name.

“Good morning, Gabe. Time to rise and shine.” Dr. Jimenez looked fresh and rested, as if he had not been operating until just a few hours ago. “How’s the leg?”

“Feels good. The rest of me feels like it got stomped by a herd of water buffalo, but the leg is good.”

“That ought to last for another 24 hours or so. Greg injected you with a long-lasting local so you won’t have so much site pain, post operatively. It shouldn’t hurt much but when the anesthetic wears off you might have some discomfort. There was muscle involvement like you thought and that can hurt like a mother as you’re healing. Regardless, once it wears off you’ll be sore for a few days. Same for your back and your bottom. And the left leg. There’s a lot of bruising back there, too. You got beat up good and proper. The wound wasn’t as bad as it could have been – no nerve damage or major vessels – but I put 12 sutures in the muscle, another 27 in the skin and fascia. It was a V-shaped tear. Pretty nasty. I took all the trash out – and there was a lot in there. We pumped you full of no-bug juice.” He handed him a prescription. “These are insurance, and insurance is a good idea for this kind of injury. Take it easy for a few days; you don’t need the discomfort and I don’t want to have to go back in. There’s also a script for some pain medication which might come in handy the next couple of days. Questions?”

“Yeah. Will I ever play the piano again?” Gabe screwed his face up with exaggerated concern.

“Probably not. I suggest the kazoo. You’ve obviously got a lot of wind. I’m done with you. As soon as they finish your paperwork you’re outta here.”

“Can I drive?”

“Give it a day. Better if you didn’t drive until I see you again, but you’ll do it anyway. Call me if you need me. And I want to see you in a week. Make an appointment.” He handed Gabe his business card. “Cell’s on the back.”

“Thanks, doc.”

“Jimmy.”

“Jimmy.”

“Gotta go.”

Fifteen minutes later a male aide rolled in a wheelchair and flipped up the foot rests. “Grab your gear and move your rear, Mr. Chance. You’re going home.”

“I don’t need a wheelchair.”

“Hospital rules. No wheelchair, no leave, and we need the room.” A mouthful of uneven teeth split the man’s face. Melvin was on his nametag.

“Well, let me get dressed, first, Melvin. Where are my clothes?”

“We threw those out,“ Jane said. She came in without knocking.

“What about the shoes?” His face was hopeful.

She shook her head slowly. “Too much blood.”

“What do you expect me to wear?”

Smiling, she said, “You’re wearing it. You can bring the gown back next week. Your personal belongings are in here.” She pointed to a bag hanging on the chair handle.

“I’m going downstairs to punch out then I’ll pick you up out front.

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