“Fine.” The doctor nodded with a smile. “I take it that she’ll be in good hands.”
The storm passed earlier than expected, and the captain docked the boat in the wee hours of the morning. Just as the doctor ordered, an ambulance was waiting. Bert had left her side only to get to their room and throw their things into her luggage and his duffel. His gaze landed on the bed, and he smiled at the memories they’d made there.
George stopped by just long enough to let him know that he was seeing to Diane, and that her attorney would meet them the next day. She was also leaving the boat early, reeling from the revelations about her true nephew, Colin, and the impostor Frank.
Sharing contact information, Bert promised to keep them informed of Mary’s condition and assured George that she would want to be in contact with Diane soon.
Hurrying back to the area to disembark, he met up with Mary on a stretcher and climbed into the ambulance, riding with them to the local hospital.
He didn’t plan on leaving her side again.
35
Over the next several hours, Mary underwent X-rays and scans, all while Bert held her hand and provided silent support. The hospital neurosurgeon had consulted via video link with Dr. Casteel back in Montana to ensure they were addressing and coordinating all the complications that could arise from her spinal cord injury.
The results showed two cracked ribs, significant soft tissue damage to her throat, and various contusions and abrasions. But the doctor’s concern went beyond the obvious injuries.
“Ms. Smithwick,” the doctor said, pulling up her X-rays on the monitor, “we’ve done a complete scan of your lower extremities as a precaution. The good news is there are no fractures in your legs, which was a concern given that you were fighting in close quarters and wouldn’t have felt any breaks or severe trauma below your level of injury.”
“That’s a relief,” Mary said, her voice still hoarse.
“However, we need to discuss some complications specific to your spinal cord injury,” the doctor added, his expression serious. He continued to list the areas of concern with Mary’s spine that would need medical care and her attention to ensure the injuries did not worsen.
Bert’s hand tightened on Mary’s, his jaw clenching.
“Understood,” Mary said, though she felt a flutter of anxiety.
The list seemed endless, and with each concern the doctor reviewed, Bert’s hand squeezed even more. She finally caught his eye, looked down at the grip he had, and then sighed in relief as he loosened his fingers.
The doctor droned on, and while Mary tried to focus on each word, she felt as though only a few were actually being heard. “Trauma… stress… higher risk… symptoms… immediate medical attention.”
Mary nodded, feeling the weight of additional worry settle on her shoulders, as if the cracked ribs and throat damage weren’t enough. But she knew the information was necessary, and she had long ago stopped feeling embarrassed over socially awkward topics of bowel movements, bladder issues, and sores.
But no matter what the doctor said, Bert spoke up immediately. “I’ll help with that. Whatever she needs.”
The doctor nodded approvingly.
“Is there anything else?” Mary asked, feeling overwhelmed by the cascade of potential complications. She quickly wished she hadn’t asked since the doctor seemed to be a walking medical encyclopedia.
* * *
“One last thing,” the doctor said.
Mary snorted. “Lay it on me, Doc.” She knew if she didn’t try to laugh, she would go crazy.
The doctor lifted a brow as one side of his mouth quirked upward, probably from seeing patients use humor to defuse their fear. But one look at Bert’s face, and she realized that even humor wasn’t going to offer him any relief. She sighed and nodded to the neurosurgeon to continue.
“Your immune system is going to be compromised while you’re healing from these injuries. The stress your body is under right now makes that risk even higher. Any fever, any signs of infection, you need to be seen immediately. Don’t wait.”
“I understand,” she said, though privately, she felt exhausted by the litany of potential complications. It wasn’t enough to heal from the attack itself, but she had to navigate all the additional risks that came with her paralysis.
After the doctor left, Bert pulled his chair closer to her bed. “That was a lot of information.”
“Welcome to life with a spinal cord injury,” Mary said with a tired smile. “Everything is more complicated. Every injury comes with a cascade of potential secondary complications.”
He was quiet, but she didn’t get the feeling he was pulling away. Nonetheless, she offered, “Bert, you can walk away, you know. The last thing I want is for you to feel trapped?—”
He jerked, his brows slamming together. “You think I’d walk away from you?”