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Disclaimer- I'm not a medical expert, so if anything in this chapter is inaccurate, I'm sorry... but that's just how it is for this story.
(Sodapop's POV)
Hanging up the phone before my surgery was extremely difficult, and my recovery in the hospital was almost just as difficult.
After the surgery to take the bullet out of my shoulder, the doctors and nurses visited me a few times a day to check on me. They put my arm in a sling, and even though it was uncomfortable, it eased the pain a bit. Still, almost every movement sent pain through my shoulder, and even though I tried to hide my agony, nurse Laura could tell how much pain I was in. She would help me do daily tasks so I didn't aggravate my injuries any more. We spent a lot of time talking about anything and everything. Besides Steve, Laura was my favorite person in all of Vietnam.
In addition to fixing my shoulder, the surgeon had removed more shrapnel from my body and gave me dozens of stitches. I had an infection in my shoulder that the medical staff hoped wouldn't become severe. My broken ribs ached all the time, and the discomfort only got worse when I started coughing more. After some tests, the doctors found out I had pneumonia that was getting worse. After several days of being on loads of medications, both the infection and my pneumonia started clearing up.
Unfortunately, my hospital roommate wasn't doing as well as I was. I thought when Steve made it out of surgery alive, he would be on the road to recovery. I was wrong.
I talked with every member of Steve's medical staff that came into the room and asked them a bunch of questions. Steve's knee surgery was a bigger deal than the doctors anticipated, and the bullet had done a lot of damage. They managed to get the bullet out and repair a lot of the joint. The doctors told me it would be a long recovery for Steve, and he'd likely always have trouble with his knee, just like I'd always have problems with my shoulder. They also confirmed that he had a severe infection in his leg that they started treating immediately.
A couple days after his surgery, the doctors discovered that the infection in Steve's leg had gotten a lot worse. They gave him a lot of different medications through his IV, and even though there was always a wave of medical personnel coming in and checking up on him, Steve didn't wake up. I was constantly trembling and tearing up when I thought about what would happen if Steve died. The doctors gave me some kind of medicine to help me calm down, but it didn't prevent me from seeing a still figure lying in the bed next to me.
There were some days that I really thought I would be returning to Tulsa by myself. If that happened, I was sure that I'd lose my mind.
After being on medication for a week or so, the doctors were pleased with Steve's progress and they said the infection was starting to go away. They still didn't want to promise me anything since he had a long way to go, but they finally said they thought Steve would make it. That was one of the happiest days I had in Vietnam. Nurse Laura shared my excitement.
We had been in the hospital for a couple weeks when I finally got a sign of life from Steve.
I woke up in the middle of the night. I didn't know what woke me up, but I became a very light sleeper only a week into living in the jungle, and all the noises in the hospital made it impossible to get a good night's sleep anyway. I thought something from outside our room had caused me to wake up, but a few moments later, I heard a groan coming from my left. I turned my head and saw movement in the bed a few feet away from me. Suddenly, the groans became words.
"No," Steve muttered tiredly. "Soda."
I was thrilled to hear his voice again for the first time in what seemed like forever, but I didn't like hearing him so distressed.
"Steve, wake up." I whispered. I started to shift in my bed. "I'm right here."
"Soda." Steve jerked in the bed, and his breathing and movements both became frantic. "Soda! Soda!" He was yelling my name, but he didn't realize I was there. "Soda!"
I jumped out of bed and ignored the pain as I rushed to his bed. I immediately grabbed his right hand with my left. "I'm right here, Steve. We got out. We're safe." He calmed down a bit and fell back asleep. After checking on Steve again, one of the doctors gave me a chair so I could stay next to his bed for a couple hours in case he needed me.
The following morning, I heard Steve let out a groan.
"Steve?" I asked tentatively. I sat up straight and looked at my best friend. I gently put a hand on his shoulder. "You with me buddy?"
Finally, Steve opened his eyes and looked at me. "Yeah. I'm with ya."
After Steve woke up, the doctors checked on him almost every hour for several days. I knew he was getting irritated by all the poking, prodding, and questioning, but I reminded him that it was for his own good. Plus, the sooner he got better, the sooner we'd get to go home.
It took a few days for Steve to be able to get out of bed, go to the bathroom, and get back to the bed by himself, even with the help of crutches. I could tell he was getting aggravated with how slowly he was recovering from everything, but I tried to keep his spirits up. He was still progressing, and that's all we could hope for.
Nurse Laura helped more than anyone with Steve's recovery, and both Steve and I loved seeing her every day. She always found something positive to talk about, and she always found ways to make Steve and me smile, even on our worst days. When Steve was doing his physical rehab exercises, she pushed him just enough to get him to do something he wasn't able to do the day before. She was a miracle worker with a beautiful smile that lit up the room as soon as she walked in.
When the doctors finally said Steve had healed enough to go home, both of us were overjoyed. We were told that we'd be leaving in three days. Both of us still had a lot of recovery work to do on our own at home, but everyone was just as excited about us leaving as we were. While the doctor was talking to Steve, I hurried over to the phone and called the house again. Once again, my kid brother answered.
"Hello?"
"Hi Pony, it's me." I couldn't keep the smile off my face. I loved hearing my kid brother's voice again.
"Soda! How are you? How's Steve doing?" I could tell that he had so many questions running through his mind, probably ever since my first phone call, but at least he was prepared to hear my voice this time. "Darry told me you and Steve were in the hospital, but he ain't tellin' me anything else."
"I'm okay honey, and Steve's doing a lot better. The docs just said he's allowed to travel, so we'll be home soon." I couldn't stand still because I was so excited, so I was pacing back and forth as I spoke.
"Why were you in the hospital?" Ponyboy asked. "What happened?"
I immediately stopped walking and froze in place. I tried to think about how to explain things to my kid brother without scaring him. "I'm not sure how much you know already, but during a firefight, Steve and I were hurt and then taken prisoner. After a while, our guys found us and brought us here to the hospital." There, that's enough information.
"But you're okay now?" Pony asked carefully. To his credit, I knew there were a lot more questions he wanted to ask, but he refrained.
"Yeah, I'm okay," I said. It was mostly true, even if my shoulder was still painful, and I still didn't sleep well. "And I'll be even better when I'm home again."
"They won't send you back to fight, right?" He sounded like a little kid.
"Right. Steve and I will be home for good." I didn't want to explain that the reason we'd be staying home is because both of us were being medically discharged from our injuries. It didn't really matter, as long as we got to stay home.
"Good."
I smiled again. "Hey Pony, is Darry home? I need to talk to him."
"Yeah, I'll get him." I could hear Pony set the phone down as he left to find our older brother.
After a short wait, Darry was on the other line. "Hey Soda. What's up? How are you and Steve doing?"
"We're coming home, Darry." I had tears in my eyes, and I was almost jumping for joy. "We're coming home."
