I vaguely remembered the nurse talking to me. “A month. The nurse—she said I was out for three weeks.”
“Yes, you were. We think you had a pronounced reaction to the anesthesia—it’s rare, and when it does happen, usually it results in agitation and a short-term delirium. But you went the other way.”
I tried to lift my hand to scratch my head, but I was still too weak to move. “Am I going to be okay?”
The doctor smiled. “We think so. You’re going to have a little bit of recovery ahead of you, of course. Possibly some more physical therapy than we’d anticipated, just to get you back on track after being down for so long. But you’re showing good signs now. I think we’re finally turning a corner.”
I yawned, the movement of my jaw making me wince. “Everything hurts. And I’m so tired. How can I want to sleep after being out for all that time?”
Doc chuckled. “You’ve been through an ordeal, Noah. Rest and sleep will be your best friends for the next few days. When you’re awake, try to talk to us so that we can keep you oriented. Your periods of wakefulness will slowly increase. Just take it easy.”
“Can I get some water?” I still was dealing with a very dry mouth.
“We need to do a swallow test before we can give you food, but let’s see if we can manage some water with a straw.” He called over his shoulder, and a nurse delivered a plastic cup moments later. Holding the straw to my lips, he instructed me, “Take a very small, slow sip. Don’t take too much yet. I know you’re thirsty, but we don’t need you aspirating.”
I managed to get enough water in my mouth to moisten my tongue. A little trickled down my throat, and I didn’t choke. I guessed it was a good sign, because the doctor praised me like I’d just scored a touchdown.
Which reminded me . . . no one had even mentioned if the operation on my knee had been successful. When could I get back onto the field? I was eager to find out, but I was also so very tired . . . with a sigh, I slipped back into the blessed oblivion of sleep.
