Disclaimer: Not mine; I can't even get them on loan while they prep for Season 3. Darn.
Author's Note: I'll be honest, I didn't have much time to proofread this chapter. I've been a little scatterbrained lately between a new job and a few things piling up. On a freaky note, I have a friend whose nephew and husband were in an ATV accident last weekend who had nearly identical injuries to Manny & Oscar in my story. I mean, gosh darn that's weird. Fortunately, they'll be okay.
Previously in Distance 9:
Smiling gently to the patient, both doctors shared a glance between them before the neurologist spoke again. "Yes sir. You are currently experiencing a condition known as Neurapraxia, sir. That essentially means that there has been a disturbance in how signals are transmitting back and forth to stimulate movement. As a result, you are suffering from a temporary loss of motor function to your appendages."
Oscar let his eyelids fall closed with a heavy sigh as he processed the information. A sniffle to his right encouraged him to open his eyes and turn his head in that direction where he was met by the small smile that danced across Angie's face. Quickly wiping away a stray tear that trailed down her cheek, Angie reached over and cupped his cheek with her dampened fingertips.
Reluctantly drawing her eyes away from his, Angie looked up to the doctors once more before voicing her question. "How long should the condition last? Is there any way to know?" she asked, awaiting their answers apprehensively.
"Unfortunately not, Ms. Flynn." The young doctor explain, "Each case is treated on an individual basis; while some cases have been resolved in a matter of days, other cases have lasted well over a couple of months. As soon as your body is able to do so, Mr. Flynn, we will have you sent for a lightened physical therapy regimen to mitigate any potential atrophy. We need to keep your body in peak functioning condition as much as possible if we want to be able to release you comfortably when the time comes."
With so many questions unable to be answered, Angie simply sighed and rested the palm of her hand on Oscar's forearm. She wrestled with feelings of inadequacy, willing fate to give her a sign as to how else she might be able to assist. Unfortunately, Oscar's look of understanding only compounded the emotions she felt.
"I'm sure you feel that this is quite a bit of information to take in, but I have a few other items to address. Firstly, the tests run this morning allowed us to check on the progress of your facial injuries, which are improving nicely," spoke Kirkland, who had remained quiet for most of the meeting up to this point.
"We also utilized the opportunity to scan your lungs as well, Mr. Vega. With the tube removed, we were able to see that the punctured region has been healing as expected. The puncture wound is not completely healed, but that was anticipated considering the nature of its origin. While the wound will not keep you here, we will need to schedule a complete medical evaluation before you are cleared for active duty when the time comes.
As a healthy adult male, your bones have been fusing at a rate higher than expected, especially with the supplemental hardware in place to relieve any possible stress to the joint. This is encouraging for your prognosis, Mr. Vega, as it should move up the timetable on your return to duty." Gesturing to the encased arm, Kirkland continued, "Regrettably, your current arrangement severely limits the amount of information we can gain about soft tissue damage to the region. Like with your Neurapraxia, only time will truly answer the question as to how long, and to what extent, you will experience symptoms."
The younger doctor waited a moment after his colleague had finished his update before exchanging glances with the room's occupants. "I'm sure this is quite a bit of information to digest all at once. If you have no further questions at this time, Dr. Kirkland and I will see about your follow up treatment from this point forward. Once we've met with the physical therapy department, we'll be sure to square away scheduling as well."
Sparing a glance toward Angie and Manny, Oscar nodded as he looked back to the doctors in the room. With a slight smile, each doctor again shook hands with the two across from Oscar's bed before exiting the room and closing the door softly behind them.
A thick silence hung in the air before Manny spoke up, "Wow. That's, uh – that's a lot to take in, huh?"
Oscar simply nodded, while Angie remained silent. Glancing back and forth between the two men, Angie figured Oscar wouldn't mind a little time to himself. In addition to giving her partner a chance to rest, she figured this would also allow her to encourage her son to catch up on some much needed rest, as well. Never mind the fact that she could use a little fresh air herself. It was possibly due to the fact that hospitals were ever associated with good news, but Angie never felt at ease as she sat within these walls – a fact that she was positive hadn't escaped her friend's keen observational skills.
Almost as if reading her mind, Oscar looked to Angie. "Go. I'm sure I'll see you later," he stated perceptively. How he ever managed to do that would never cease to amaze her.
"Only if you're sure," she forced herself to respond. As much as hospitals made her skin crawl, her first priority was the man who lay in front of her, even at the expense of her own comfort level.
"I'll be fine. How far can I go?" he joked, as his friends gathered their belongings and pushed their chairs back. "I'll see you around?" he asked, raising his eyebrows toward Manny.
"You got it. I've still got some time before I have to go back…" the young man replied, before quietly whispering, "or if…."
Squinting his eyes toward the young man and ensuring that Angie was distracted before responding, "I think we'll talk about that at some point, too?"
Manny merely nodded before following his mother out of the hospital room, closing the door with a click as he left.
The next week saw Oscar's recovery progressing satisfactorily, with the effects of his temporary paralysis dissipating day by day. Promoted in part by the assistance of a physical therapist that came to visit daily, stretching limbs and analyzing his range of motion. A regimen of physical activity staved muscle atrophy meanwhile continued, yet limited, visits from friends and family provided a boost in morale.
Toward the middle of Oscar's third week stay in the hospital, Angie had wrapped up early and decided to go to see him straight from the precinct. Interrupting a particularly grueling PT session, Angie turned to retreat as quickly as she had entered when Oscar's rough voice stopped her in her tracks.
"Ang," coughing to clear his throat, Oscar tried again. "Angie, wait –" he stuttered. Turning to the physical therapist, he asked the hulking woman for a moment alone with his visitor.
"Sorry, partner," Angie began. "I didn't mean to interrupt. I guess it slipped my mind that you'd be doing therapy this early. I just finished at the station and thought I'd swing by and bring you a present." Pulling a small pastry box from behind her back, Angie smiled sheepishly at Oscar as she stepped closer. "It's not much, but you've been making such great progress that I thought you deserved a reward."
Releasing a radiant smile, Oscar sat up straighter in his bed and stretched out his right hand toward her, "Wait – don't move."
Angie stopped her forward momentum, giving him a curious look while being careful not to drop the box.
"It's just – I've got a surprise for you too. Just –" he paused and grunted while he attempted to adjust his position.
"You okay?" She asked, tempted to place the box in chair and move over to help him.
"Uh, yeah. I just, uh – hold on," he muttered. "Can you do me a favor?" Oscar asked quietly.
"Absolutely. What do you need?" she asked, prepared to do almost anything for him.
"I need you to put the box down, and hold out your arms," Oscar requested nervously.
Gently placing the pastry box in the chair to her right, Angie turned back around to face Oscar in the bed and slowly raised her arms. Looking at him curiously, she smiled at him good-naturedly and awaited further instruction.
"Okay, now, I need you to take one step forward. Right there, that's good," he instructed as she did as she was told. "How strong are you?" Oscar asked.
"Wait, what?" Angie questioned.
"I just need to know if you can help me in case I can't do this," he replied as he maneuvered himself carefully so he could gently sweep his legs over the right side of the bed with some assistance from his uninjured arm.
While Angie had known that Oscar and the therapist had been working on his lower body exercises, she had never been present to witness any of the improvement. His upper half had begun cooperating a few days prior to his lower body, but the coordination was still a work in progress.
Struggling to push himself up off the edge of the bed, Angie stared intently at the muscles and tendons flexing in his trembling arm and the grimace that danced across his face before he was able to rise completely. The left arm's cast had been downsized and he had now been relegated to a sling to help keep the bones immobile while they healed. Even as a large part of her had been tempted to step in and assist him, she knew how this was an exercise in proving his progress to himself as well as her, so she allowed him to do it himself. Exhaling loudly, Oscar sighed as he met her gaze with a smirk.
Angie beamed at him radiantly and clasped her hands together, then brought them to her mouth. Laughing out loud, she cupped her hands over her open mouth in astonishment. Tears of joy started to pool in her eyes as she bit her lip, unsure of exactly what to say.
"Wait – wait, don't cry," Oscar began. Staring back down at his feet, he grasped the IV pole with his right hand and began to shuffle towards her. He reached his final destination directly in front of her as his eyes rose to meet hers, with his head cocked to the side. "I thought I gave you directions, Ang."
Angie shook her head with a silent laugh as she brought her hands up once again to hang near his biceps and raised an eyebrow questioningly. With one last shuffle forward, Oscar carefully let go of the IV pole, shoved it aside and then brought his right hand up to encircle her waist. Gripping her waist tightly with his free hand, he inched his hand around her waist until it rested at the small of her back and gripped the fabric tightly.
Sharing the same breath for a moment, Oscar tenderly drew Angie's frame toward his and hung on. Sighing deeply, he could feel her arms softly settle on his upper arms before enclosing around his shoulder blades and hang on firmly. With his body attached to hers, Oscar could feel rather than hear or see Angie release a shuddering breath as she tried not to cry. Clinching his eyes closed for a moment, he then lifted his head off of her shoulder enough to draw back his own face for a few moments.
Angie's eyes were closed as she attempted to calm herself from the emotional roller coaster on which she was riding. Oscar carefully extricated his arm from around her waist and brought a shaking hand up to her face to wipe the slow stream of tears that had begun their journey down his partner's face. Careful not to disturb the injured arm between them, Angie brought her arms up to loop around his neck and squeezed them together tighter. With her hands at the base of Oscar's skull, she ran her fingers through the thick curls found there and drew his forehead down to meet hers.
"It's going to be okay, Ang," Oscar whispered softly, closing his own eyes. "I'll be okay."
P.S. - Any guesses as to what's in the pastry box? Does anyone care, for that matter?
P.S.S. - How many of you are asking yourselves if I'm done with this story? I could be...or, not...As my father likes to say, "You know...you just never know." (What does that even mean?! He's full of wisdom like that. You know, he's "smart smart", not "dumb smart" as Angie would say.)
Questions/Comments/Suggestions? - Please let me know.