How many times had he asked the question. "So, when can I go home?"

Allenson looked at his chart, shook his head. "I'm not sure yet. You are doing great, Luka, but you aren't ambulatory enough to go home."

"You said I could go when I could get around on crutches. I can do that."

"At that time," Allenson said quietly, "you had Gillian with you. I assumed that she'd still be with you. You live alone, Luka. You can't manage on your own yet."

"I can manage, if you give me the chance to try." Luka struggled to keep his voice calm.

"Would you consider hiring a nurse to stay with you, help you out?"

"If I'm going to have a live in nurse, I may as well still be here!"

"What about family ... friends? Anyone you can depend on to help you, to stay with you at least most of the time?"

Luka shook his head, the realization striking him like a blow. He had no one. No family. No friends. No one he could imagine asking for that kind of help; no one he could depend upon to provide it.

"Once you're home," Allenson went on, "you're going to have to come back here several times a week for therapy. You still need help with basic daily needs like showering and dressing, doing errands. You're either going to have to find, or hire, someone to help you, to be there all the time, or you'll have to stay here until you're a little bit more ambulatory, a little bit stronger. Compared to when you came in, you have made amazing progress, but you still have a long way to go."

"I'm going home," Luka said firmly. "Tomorrow. I'll figure the rest out."

A sigh from Allenson. "Unless what you 'figure out' is live-in help of some kind; a nurse, a home health aid, or a dependable schedule of friends and family, if you leave tomorrow, you'll be leaving AMA."

"That's fine."

"I know you're frustrated. I just don't want you to rush this. A little more time will make a lot of difference. In another week, ten days maybe, you'll be much better, much more able to manage at home."

"I'll think about it," Luka said softly. But his mind was made up.

When Carl came by later he got right to the point. "Saw Richard earlier. He tells me you're chomping at the bit to go home."

"I'm ready."

"What's the hurry?"

"Hurry?" Luka looked at him in disbelief. "I've been here over a month. Before this, I spent a month in the hospital in Kisangani. I think I've been hospitalized long enough. I'm sure my insurance company will be glad to see me go." A smile. "This is a nice place to work, Carl. I've never wanted to live here."

But Carl didn't return his smile. "I agree with Richard. You are not ready to go home yet, physically or emotionally."

Luka bit his lip. "So .. what? You're going to commit me?"

"No, I just think you can still benefit from daily counseling. I don't want you to lose the progress you've made. Once you go home, will you be able to come back here every day? I know you don't live very far away, but it's still going to be a difficult trip with crutches and a cab."

"I think," Luka said slowly, "the best thing I can do, emotionally, is to go home. I need to feel like I'm a person again, not a patient, not a ... victim. To be in my own apartment again, do things for myself. To know that I have to do things for myself. I know I can do it, and I need the chance to be able to try."

"Will you come back for 3 sessions a week with me?"

"Yeah. I assume I'll be coming back for physical therapy too."

"Ok." Carl agreed finally. "I'll see if I can sway Allenson, convince him to discharge you."

"I'm leaving if he agrees or not."

"I know. But it's better if everyone's happy, right?"

"Happy? I don't think 'happy' is in the cards, Carl. Not anytime soon. Not for me." Luka rubbed the scars on his wrists. How long had it been since he had been happy?

"Are you nervous about going home?"

"A little," Luka admitted. "It will be different. And it will be hard at first. But I need to do it. I need to start getting my life back."

Carl nodded, sighed. He reached into his folder of papers, searched for a minute, then pulled out a flyer, which he handed to Luka.

"What's this?"

"It's information about a support group."

"Support group? For what?"

"For male sexual assault survivors. Along with your therapy with me, I'd like you to start going. They meet twice a week."

Luka stared, at the paper, then at Carl. "Support group?" he said again. "I can't .... Jesus, Carl, I can't even think about it ... talk about it to you. You think I'm going to go to a group where a bunch of men sit around and talk about how it happened to them too? And this is supposed to help?"

"It does help, Luka. You know that. No-one will make you talk before you are ready, but knowing that you aren't alone, that other men ..."

"I know that!" interrupted Luka. "I've seen it. I'm an ER physician, remember? Men have come into the ER ...." he shook his head. Even talking about this, in the most abstract sense, was getting too painful. "Knowing ... doesn't make it easier ... when it's you."

"No, it doesn't," Carl agreed gently. "But talking with people who have been through it, who can really understand what you're feeling, can help."

Luka let the paper lie on the bed. He didn't touch it. Carl sighed. "Just hold onto it. If you don't feel ready to go now, maybe you will in a few weeks, a few months. Whenever you do go, it will help. I promise."

Luka took the paper, folded it several times, put it in the bedside table drawer.

"How will you get home tomorrow?" Carl asked after a minute. "Do you have someone to drive you?"

"I'll take a cab."

"Luka, have you thought this through?"

"If you'll just leave me alone, let me work out the details, I'll get it all figured out!"

-----

Susan came by after supper, as she usually did. "How're you doing today?" she asked.

"Great. I'm going home tomorrow!"

"Wonderful! Allenson's finally discharging you?"

"He's agreeing, grudgingly, to let me go," Luka admitted.

"That doesn't sound quite so impressive."

"You aren't going to try and talk me out of it too, are you?"

"No. I just don't want you to rush into something you aren't ready to handle. If Allenson thinks you need more time, maybe you should listen to him. He is the orthopod here, and you did do quite a job on your leg."

"I'm going crazy here, Susan. I need to go home!"

"A few more days though ... why not? Get some more rest, let the pretty nurses take care of you ... maybe let plastics start working on your wrists."

"I've been resting. I'm bored senseless. And I can come back anytime to get the skin grafts. I don't need to get them now. That will probably be outpatient surgery, or just a night or two."

"How will you get home?" Susan asked.

"Cab."

"No, I can take you home."

"Aren't you on tomorrow?"

"I'm always on," Susan said with smile. "But I can swap my shift, work tomorrow night instead."

"It's not necessary," Luka insisted.

"You can't take a cab. There are stairs to your apartment, aren't there? You'll need help."

"I can climb stairs. There aren't very many of them."

"Let me do you this favor, Luka? Why not?"

"Ok," Luka agreed. Susan could be very stubborn when she put her mind to it. "You can take me home, if you really want to."