02/19-20/2010

Post-Op

Woody was scared. He dared not show it, but it kept him up well into the early morning hours, long after everyone else had succumbed to exhaustion. Garret had been relieved at Woody's entrance, and Bug had seemed glad for it, too. Nigel, though, was not so excited.

"Look who finally decided to drop by," Nigel snapped as Woody entered the room.

Woody was too tired and worried to be offended. "I was busy. I couldn't get here earlier."

Nigel snorted and glared at the cop. "And you think those flowers are supposed to make up for your lack of concern?"

"Lack of concern?" Now Woody was upset. His voice grew earnest as he glared back at Nigel. "Do you have any idea how hard it has been for me to take my mind off of Jordan and focus on my work for the last two days? I've been so distracted that Renee Walcott almost took me off the case I was working on."

"And you still chose your case over Jordan."

"If I had quit the case, a teenage girl might be dead by now, and three dangerous murderers would still be on the loose. I came as soon as I could."

"What if something had happened? What if she had woken up and you weren't here? What if she never wakes up?" Nigel had been advancing toward Woody, whose expression was now a mix of concern and anxiety; but at this last question, Nigel froze in his tracks. "What if she doesn't make it?" Nigel cast a furtive glance over to Jordan and her vitals. The other three followed suit.

After a few moments, Garret spoke. "She'll wake up. She'll be fine."

"This time tomorrow, we'll laugh at ourselves for worrying about her like this." Bug didn't seem to believe his sentiment as strongly as Garret had believed his own. Woody put the bouquet in his hands on the bed by Jordan's feet, since the table was dominated by Evander's bowl. He took a seat in a chair by Jordan's bed, and the others settled into their respective corners. The only thing they could do was to wait. Woody hated waiting.

He had been sitting like this for hours, wide-eyed and silent. He had tried to read, but could not get through a sentence – much less a paragraph – without looking up to check on Jordan. Nigel's questions swam through his mind relentlessly. What if she never wakes up? What if she doesn't make it? What if she has brain damage? What if she has memory loss? She was all he could think about. He tried to imagine each situation, tried to brace himself for each specific outcome, tried not to dwell on the worst. He tried to focus on the best possible outcome. Garret had explained that there was a section of the meningioma that was wrapped around her carotid artery and therefore could not be removed, and that she would have to live with it. Woody tried to imagine how Jordan would take the news, how her recovery would go, and how his role in her life might change as a result of this ordeal. It was while he was pondering this that she opened her eyes.

He gave her a moment, then stood to lean over her bedside. "Hi," he offered with a smile when her gaze turned to him, but she did not respond. Her expression did not change, and he could not read it. She just stared at him for several long moments. Woody's smile faded, his joy quickly crushed by her apparent lack of comprehension. Did she recognize him? Could she really even see him? Was she blind? Could she talk? Was she paralyzed? Frantic, he tried again. "Jordan." She blinked, her expression finally shifting to something between shock and panic. "Jordan?" He did not know what else to say.

Finally, she spoke. "Woody?" She lifted her arm and reached for him, and he caught her hand mid-air. Breathing a sigh of relief, he smiled again. "You don't look so great," she frowned. "What's wrong?"

Woody almost laughed. "I'm… I'm fine. How do you feel?"

Jordan took a moment to assess herself and check her monitors. "Not bad," she smiled.

Woody looked over to the rest of the crew. "Hey, guys, wake up! She's conscious!"

Immediately there was a commotion as Bug, Nigel, and Garret scrambled to their feet and over to Jordan's bedside. They all started talking at once. "Jordan!" "Hey, there, sleeping beauty!" "How do you feel?" "Do you know who we are?" "How many fingers am I holding up?" "Are you okay?"

Woody held up his free hand to signal the chatterboxes to be quiet. "Whoa, guys; she just woke up from brain surgery. She's fine, but we don't want to overwhelm her." The other men obeyed.

"Yeah, listen to the cop," Jordan scolded her coworkers. "I'm fine. How did the surgery go?" Nobody answered her, and everybody's eager expressions sank to disappointment. Jordan grew nervous. "Well?"

Woody took a deep breath and forced out an explanation. "There's a… uh, piece… of the growth wrapped around your… carotid artery."

"They got everything else, but you're going to have to live with what's left," Garret finished. "There's no good way to have that removed."

Jordan stared off into space as she considered this. "Is it… gonna kill me?"

Woody's hand tightened around Jordan's. "The doctor said you'll probably be just fine if you take your medicines regularly. You can lead a perfectly normal, long, healthy life. And you will." He wanted to melt at the trust he saw in her eyes as she looked into his eyes.

After a moment she nodded, breathing a sigh of relief. Then, looking to the others, she smiled again and began conversing with them lightheartedly. Garret, Bug, and Nigel were pleased, and on this note a general discussion of the surgery and planning for her recovery ensued. Woody participated in these conversations, but was struck by how close the group in front of him was. They were just coworkers, but they acted like family. They were so supportive of each other, and so caring! And they had taken Woody right into their little circle without a second thought, despite the differences in their world and his. By now their worlds had overlapped and merged, and Woody was considered part of their team. He liked it, this camaraderie.

"Well, it's almost dawn, and I'm sensing a lack of caffeine in my meds, so I think I'm gonna take a nap," Jordan yawned. "You guys should go home, get some rest, then get back to work."

Dr. Macy nodded his agreement. "Are you sure? We can stay…"

"No," Jordan objected quickly. "I'll be fine. Go home. Drink coffee. Have a change of scenery. I'll call you when they discharge me."

"And you'll make sure we're notified if anything happens?" Nigel asked nervously.

"Yeah, sure. Of course." She meant it.

"Oh, and don't forget to feed Evander twice a day," Nigel added, pointing to the fish in the bowl by Jordan's head.

"You got me a fish?" she asked incredulously. "You know I can't keep anything alive!"

"Told you so," Bug mumbled, nudging Nigel, who now resembled a lost puppy.

"Don't worry. I'll make sure he gets fed. I think I can keep one fish alive."

Nigel just smiled. "Get better."

They all wished her good health and gathered their things. Garret pushed Nigel and Bug out the door, reminding Jordan to call him if she needed anything. She smiled and nodded, waving him out the door. But Garret could not bring himself to leave her all alone. "Somebody should stay here—"

"I'll stay," Woody offered, still standing by Jordan's bedside.

Garret nodded. "Okay. Just call me whenever you need to leave." Then he was gone, along with Bug and Nigel.

"You don't have to stay," Jordan told him, looking off toward the wall.

"I want to," Woody asserted, still looking at her.

She was silent a few moments, then a few more after she turned her head to search his eyes. "Thank you." It was barely more than a whisper.

"Anytime." He took her hand again, rubbing the back of it with his thumb. Her smile warmed him, and he smiled back. Perhaps things weren't quite the way he wished they were, but they were close enough. Jordan was not taken away from him, and at the moment she wasn't running, either. For now, that was enough for Woody.