8. Maybe

Bobby was waiting in the Infirmary for Lil the next morning. They had agreed to meet at 0900 to discuss her injuries, treatment, and concerns before maybe heading next door to the gym. It all depended on what she had to tell him and how prepared he was to address her medical needs. He was hoping that traditional physical therapy would do the trick, but her medical records left him with more questions that answers. He had straightened his desk and wiped the table down three times already. Bobby was nervous, an odd sensation for the usually focused medic. It wasn't Lil that made him nervous per se, but the thought of disappointing her or not being able to help. She had been so sweet to all of the guys, and in his mind she was family by default. He was sure there were a number of Rangemen who would love to ask her out (or more), he couldn't think of her that way. Maybe it was easier to stay separate when the other person was also your patient... Maybe.

Lil tapped on his door a few minutes early. "Morning Doc. How are you today?" She had come dressed in white trainers, black leggings, and a black lycra hoodie. Her hair was on top of her head in a messy bun. All evidence that she was serious about being there, serious about getting better. He was glad. "Morning Lil. You do know I'm not a doctor, right? I'm just a medic from the Rangers who has some additional training." Lil gave a half smile. "I know Doc. But you see, Back to the Future is one of my all-time favorites… And I really like being able to say I have my own Doc Brown..." She batted her eyes innocently with a coy tilt of her head. Bobby barked out a laugh. "OK you win. I'll be Doc. BUT that makes you McFly." "Deal!" He pointed to the exam table where she boosted herself up. "Alright, I've been going over the medical records Ranger gave me. I need some more details. Can you tell me exactly how and where each injury occurred. What your doctor in NV has done to this point. Shit, can you just start from the beginning?"

Lil sighed. Repeating that event left a sour taste in her mouth. Bobby picked up on her discomfort. "Lil, whatever you say stays between you and me. My files stay locked up, I'm the only key holder. I don't even share confidential medical info with Ranger." She believed him. Didn't make it any easier though. "I know Doc, I'm not worried about you hun. I trust you." That simple statement did things to Bobby's insides that he didn't understand. Lil rolled her bad shoulder a few times, wishing the stiffness would ease up even just a little. "You might wanna take a seat. I'll get this out as fast as I can, but it will still take a hot minute." Bobby rolled his stool over. He would have preferred to stand, but wanted to make her more comfortable, wanted to make her happy. "Alright darlin. I'm going to operate under the assumption that you've read the FBI and LVPD reports to know I was involved in a shooting four years ago." He nodded. "Good, no sense in rehashing all THAT bullshit. Essentially, I took three bullets. One to the side, one to the shoulder, and then one to the chest. All on the right... (She sighs) Hold on." She gracefully slid off the table to stand in front of him then pulled off her hoodie. For the briefest instant, Bobby forgot that whole 'she's a patient' thing. The woman was very attractive.

Now wearing only her tight pants and a black sports bra, she started to point. "The first shot hit me here." She indicated the small scar a half inch in from her right side. That was the flesh wound. "The ER doc gave that a nice little embroidery stitch and called it a day." She then pointed to her shoulder where a quarter-sized scar was clearly visible. "While I was firing on one of Erikson's crew, I took this one. It was a through and through that tore into the area where the rotator cuff meets the head of the humerus. Thanks to the trajectory, it angled inward on exit nicking my scapula." Lil turned her torso to show him her shoulder from the back where a similar scar sat in a different position. "That was a lucky one, because the angle kept the bullet from shattering my humerus. But my rotator cuff got trashed and needed surgical repair. At least it isn't my dominant arm. The PT I should have had immediately after that surgery wasn't possible, so it started to heal and calcify wrong. Now, it gets really stiff and I lose range on motion if I don't keep it worked." Bobby was nodding his head in that physician fashion while making notes on her new chart. "I did eventually get to start PT for the shoulder three years ago. The basic finger-wall-crawl and typical stretches. I worked with bands for a while but outgrew them quickly." Bobby smiled. He could tell by her lean definition that she was still in good shape, even if she was 'retired'. He loved when a woman was soft and strong at the same time. "OK, so maybe we should try you on some heavier dumbbell work; flys, rows, inclines?" Lil rolled her shoulder again, "ya, I think that would be the next step." He gave her hand a pat, "I can set that up, no problem."

He turned his attention to the larger scar on her chest. The size and shape were clear indications of either one lengthy surgery or two different operations in the same place. His blank face made an unconscious appearance. Anyone with a scar right there was lucky to be alive. "And how'd that happen?" Lil half-shrugged her good shoulder. "Erikson was taking aim at a hostage. I pulled a human shield routine. Maybe not my best idea, but the woman lived… The bullet entered my chest and played pinball between my first rib and clavicle before lodging in between my T3 and T4 vertebrae. The rib and clavicle broke, puncturing my lung. The damage to my vertebrae was minimal since my other squishy bits slowed the bullet down. But the trauma caused swelling around my spinal cord that took over a week to decrease. After the longest surgery EVER, they put me back together." Lil fidgeted under his stare. Bobby was torn between pride in her ability to cut to the chase and irritation that she wasn't admitting the severity of her injury.

"What aren't you telling me? How bad was it really?" She huffed. She really fucking hated this story. "It was bad enough. I flat-lined twice in the bus. Once more during surgery. They thought my pericardial sac was ruptured because of all the blood. So they were focusing in the wrong area while the bullet was still pressing on my spinal cord. That's why the scar is bigger than necessary, they opened me up like a can of tuna to look for a problem that wasn't there. After it was all said and done, I was left in a medically induced coma for two weeks so the rib and clavicle could heal, the swelling could go down, and my pulmonary system could function on its own again. Then I had pneumonia during recovery." Bobby was pissed. He couldn't fathom that she had not only gone through all of that shit, but that she had lived to tell about it. He was incredibly proud of her. Thankfully, the scar wasn't so bad that it detracted from her natural beauty. Maybe one day it would fade into nothingness. "So what's the damage now? There must be a long-term issue if you need PT after all this time." Lil let out a sarcastic laugh. "You could say that. All of my parts healed fine, but the swelling left me with intermittent neuropathic pain. Like I said, surgical recovery put a major setback on getting the therapy I needed. I've been to numerous specialists who only want to prescribe strong meds or put in nerve blockers. No thanks. One even wanted to implant me with a pain pump. Negative to that too. Stretching and exercise help some. Acupuncture didn't do much. Acupressure and massage therapy were more effective."

Bobby was scribbling furiously at this point. "Tell me about the neuropathy, how is it presenting, how often, where?" His pen was poised over the drawn diagram of a human body on her chart. "It really has no pattern in frequency. Sometimes every day, then I'll get a break for a few days before it flares up. It mostly occurs in my back and down into my legs. Sometimes just a burning or tingling feeling, but on bad days its a stabbing pain. As they say, I usually rub some dirt in it and walk it off. I'm just hoping to maybe find something that alleviates it a little." He shook his head slowly. His blank face was doing a good job of hiding his feelings. (Or so he thought) He was angry for her. He was angry that she was shot. He was angry at the doctors for fucking up the surgery. But he was also overwhelmed by her strength and courage. Not many people would place themselves in front of a bullet for a stranger, not after already being shot twice. That was a Ranger-level move. She was a damn fine woman. Shit, maybe she needed to put her hoodie back on before he totally lost his professionalism.

"This is what I think. I can take you over to the gym now, if you want, and get you set up on a routine for the shoulder. As for the nerve pain, I want to do a little more research and call a friend in DC who specializes in massage therapy. I think I can give you the massages, but I want to make sure I am doing it perfect for you. That is of course, if you're still comfortable with ME being your therapist. I have a good working knowledge of acupressure and reflexology. I want to also look into a form of massage called Active Isolated Stretching or AIS." Aw, he was blushing. Lil gave him her sweetest smile, "Of course I'm fine with you Doc. I wouldn't want anybody else to rub me down. I'll even let you twist me into a pretzel if I can take a ride in your Delorian." She winked before sliding her top into place. Maybe Bobby needed a cold shower sooner rather than later.

They spent the next forty-five minutes in the gym working on her upper half. Lil was never a fan of traditional exercise, but could suck it up with the best of them. Bobby was impressed with her form and reps. When they were done, he helped her stretch on the mats. His hope was that the extended and much harder stretching would help her until he was prepared to offer more treatment. "Would it be OK if I used the treadmill occasionally? I don't want to bother the guys." Bobby smirked. "Honey, you live here. That means you get just as much gym privilege as the rest of us. You can use the gym and all of the equipment whenever your heart desires." She hesitated, "What about Tilde? Can she come with me? I can bring a few toys and keep her on a mat near me." "It's fine Lil. The guys won't mind. Oh that reminds me." He pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket. "This is the pediatrician I would take her to. If you want, I can set an appointment when you're ready." Lil visibly relaxed. "You are the best Doc Brown! Well, I better go relieve Uncle Sugar-butt from dog and babysitting duty." They both laughed at Cal's nickname. They guys were having a field day with that one. Maybe they should change his name to Sugar-butt on all the rosters and schedules. Maybe Cal wouldn't beat their asses for it…