Maddie was in shock. She could handle a broken hand, but abrasions from her forehead to the middle of her calf? That, of course, was where her leg started being protected by her sturdy riding boot. “My God,” she whispered. Was she going to be disfigured?
Maddie clenched her good fist and told herself differently. Dr. Upton hadn’t even hinted at disfigurement, and she was not going to lie in this bed and imagine the worst.
But she was going to be laid up and useless for a month. “No!” she whispered. A whole month of doing nothing? She’d go nuts!
A dinner tray was brought in then, and Maddie looked at the cup of bouillon, the small bowl of green gelatin and another cup containing hot water for tea with very little interest. In the first place she wasn’t hungry, and if she were, it wouldn’t be for bouillon.
If she were a weepy type of woman, she’d lie there and bawl.
But she wasn’t a crybaby, she was a doer, and she was not going to be an invalid for four miserable weeks, she simply wasn’t!
The few times Maddie woke up in the night, she worried about her horse. When she came wide awake at six, she figured out that her pain medication must have been reduced during the night, because her head was clearer than it had been since the accident. Instantly, although in severe physical discomfort, she again worried about Fanny. Was a responsible person feeding her? Making sure she had fresh water? Taking her outside for exercise?
Barrel racing demanded total unity between horse and rider, and Maddie had no doubt that Fanchon was the deciding factor in her success in the arena. Without Fanny, Maddie knew she would be just another rodeo hopeful. Along with loving Fanny with all her heart, the quarter horse was extremely valuable monetarily, and what if someone should steal her from the rodeo grounds?
Maddie shuddered. She had to get out of this hospital today. Dr. Upton had said that if all went well he would release her tomorrow morning. That wasn’t good enough for Maddie. She was not going to lie here all day and worry.
And so, when breakfast was delivered—solid food this morning—Maddie forced every bite of a bowl of sticky oatmeal down her throat and drank her glass of orange juice like a good little girl. When a nurse asked how she was feeling—it had been a long time since her last pain shot—Maddie lied and said, “Much, much better, thank you.”
The nurse unhooked her IV and then brought in some pills. Maddie asked what they were and the nurse replied, “The blue one is an antibiotic, the white one is for pain.”
“I’m only going to take the antibiotic,” Maddie said with a hopeful little smile. “Is that all right? If I was in pain…but I’m not…and…”
The nurse frowned. “No pain at all?”
“Very mild discomfort. Not nearly enough to knock myself out with pain medication, and even if the pill isn’t that strong, I really detest that fuzzy-headed feeling I get from sedatives.”
“Well…all right, but you are to ring at once if you start hurting.”
“Oh, I will.”
The charade was more difficult when bath time rolled around. “I can do it myself, really,” Maddie told the young woman who came in to give her a bed bath. The woman finally believed her and left, and Maddie soon learned how inept she was with her left hand. She hurt so badly that she nearly rang for that pill a dozen times. Gritting her teeth throughout the ordeal, she bathed herself and struggled into a fresh nightgown. Exhausted and not daring to show it, she waited for the young nurse to return and check her abrasions.
This time Maddie asked for a mirror, which was brought to her. “Oh, my God,” she whispered when she saw the right side of her face.
“It looks worse than it is because it was painted with red antiseptic,” the young nurse told her. “It’s all up and down your right side. See?”
Maggie saw all right, and her heart felt heavy as lead. “Will…it wear off?”
“Of course it will. When you’re strong enough to take showers, it will disappear in a few days. You’re healing nicely, Maddie. My orders for this morning are to apply antibiotic cream to your abrasions but to leave them uncovered.”
“There’s no sign of infection, then?”
“None at all.” The young nurse was finishing up. “Dr. Upton will be in to see you, probably within the hour.” She left the room.
Maddie closed her eyes. Weepy type of woman or not, she truly felt like bawling. She looked like a character in a horror movie!
Even terribly uncomfortable she dozed. She opened her eyes when Dr. Upton said, “No pain medication today, Maddie?”
“Hello,” she said with as much normalcy as she could muster. “Should I take a drug I don’t need?”
“No, you shouldn’t, but I have to question why you don’t need it.” He checked her chart for another minute or so, then set it down on the foot of the bed and bent over her. “Look at the far corner of the room,” he instructed and then beamed light into her eyes with what appeared to Maddie as a slender little flashlight.
“What’s that for?” she asked.
“Just a precaution. I’m glad to see that there’s still no sign of concussion. You were very fortunate, young woman.”
He’d said that before, Maddie thought somewhat resentfully. Would he think himself fortunate if it were he lying in this bed with more bruises than a map had roads, hurting something awful and not daring to show it because he had to convince a doctor that he was well enough to get out of here today, instead of tomorrow?
He was writing on the chart, and she knew it was a forerunner to his leaving. Panic assailed her, but before she could ask for an early release, he said, “You’re doing remarkably well. Keep this up and you’ll be going home in the morning.”
She cleared her throat. “Dr. Upton, I’d like to go home today.”
He looked at her sharply from under a dubiously arched eyebrow. “I would say that’s pushing it, Maddie.”
“I feel fine, and I have responsibilities.”
“We all do, but an accident such as yours really puts everything else on hold. Or, it should. You haven’t had a lot of visitors. Don’t you have family or friends living in the vicinity?”
“I’m from Montana, and my friends go where the rodeos take them. Doctor, I’ve been completely self-sufficient for years, and I’m perfectly capable of applying antibiotic creams or salves to my scrapes and bruises, and taking pills on a timed schedule. I can’t just lie here and wish for a miracle. I want to go home today. Right now, in fact, or as soon as I can be checked out. Please release me, Dr. Upton. Please.”
The doctor studied her chart. “Well, your vitals have been stable for more than twenty-four hours,” he murmured, and appeared to be thinking for several moments. Then his gaze lifted. “How would you get home? Is there someone you could call to come and pick you up? I don’t want you driving today, Maddie.”
Her pulse quickened because he hadn’t immediately refused her request. “I would call a taxi,” she said honestly. “I don’t have a vehicle here if I wanted to drive home, which I don’t.”
“Okay, tell you what. Let me see you get out of bed and walk around. I’ll release you today if I see that you are truly mobile.”
Maddie gulped, but she forced herself to sit up, shove her sheet aside and then cautiously slide off the bed to put her feet on the floor. There were hospital slippers down there somewhere, but she was afraid that if she bent over to look for them she might pass out. So she held the back of her gown shut with her left hand and took a barefoot stroll around the room, fighting nausea and dizziness every step of the way.