Chapter 124

My worries about Liz had put my own fears to the back for a little while but they returned in full force as we headed back to the hospital Friday morning.

I knew that the procedure to remove the scar tissue at my elbow was my last realistic chance to regain full usage of my hand. My arm was progressing pretty well. The feeling had returned to my upper arm (and the new scars had started to itch like a champ) as the muscles mended and the swelling decreased.

I had feeling on the inside of my forearm and I’d regained a lot of movement in my forefinger and thumb. The other three fingers on my right hand had started to curl inward despite my efforts to keep the muscles supple and flexible with manual manipulation.

The horde of media and gawkers that had accompanied my previous visits was nowhere to be found when we arrived at Tennessee Regional Hospital for what I hoped would be the last time anybody had a reason to go digging around in my body.

I also hoped the lack of onlookers was a sign that the fascination into my health (and me, in general) had faded. I was ready to return to a life of relative obscurity but I knew it wouldn’t last.

I had given an interview to online magazines that was scheduled to come out in the next week and had another interview scheduled with a Spanish-language newspaper. Besides that, I knew that my association with Liz would make me newsworthy again.

“It’s going to be fine,” Liz said when I let out a long breath as we entered the facility.

I nodded and gave what I hoped was a brave smile.

“At least we didn’t have to fight through 50 people to get to the door,” I said.

“We caught her,” Brea said.

That caused all eyes to turn to the nurse that was accompanying us.

“What?” Liz asked.

“We caught the woman leaking his information,” Brea repeated. “Travis was right. It was one of the administrators of our home health program. He got me thinking about who would have legitimate access to his medical chart, his program of recovery and the pseudonym he was using. It’s why I volunteered to move over to his case. I slipped a different fake sentence into every report I filed. She fed the media something stupid I put in there when I first got out there. I put something juicier in the next report. When we saw that stupid comment on the web about him suffering periodic seizures, I contacted the AMA. She’s a medical doctor and they acted pretty quickly. She’s gone and she’s not coming back.”

“Holy shit,” I said, looking at Brea with new appreciation. “That was really good thinking!”

“I’m a fan of spy novels,” Brea said with a touch of sheepishness. “Tom Clancy is one of my favorites. He calls it the Canary Trap.”

“Why didn’t you mention this before?” Liz asked. I couldn’t tell if she was upset that she was left out of the loop or if she was mad that the decision was made without her input.

“I wasn’t sure it would work,” Brea said. “And, to be blunt, this was a professional decision. It wasn’t to look out for Travis, specifically. It was to look out for my profession and my employer. So I didn’t see a need to discuss it with you. I still don’t.”

Liz’s eyes blinked rapidly and I pinched my lips together to keep from laughing at her.

Sondra met us shortly after we arrived at the entrance usually reserved for deliveries and I did my utmost to move the onus off the contest of wills that showed no signs of abating anytime soon.

“How’s the big guy?” I asked.

“Feeling better,” Sondra said. Ryan had undergone a surgery on his knee when we returned from San Diego. He had developed a slight infection and had been off his feet for a week.

“I hope he didn’t mind that we accepted his notification,” I said.

“He was upset that he didn’t get the chance to snap the guy’s neck,” Sondra said.

“The guy was ... OK,” I said. “He was just a dude doing a job. We actually used him to serve the countersuit. I felt bad after what I did to him.”

This caused Liz to shift her lasers from Brea to me.

“I wadded up the paper and threw it back in his face,” I admitted. “Jill stepped in and calmed things down.”

“Jill?” Sondra asked with a touch of incredulity in her tone.

“Our little girl is growing up,” I said.

Sean and his team had parked the vehicles and joined us so we made our way down to the offices where I would have my checkup. Sondra turned me over to the technician after ordering everybody else to stay outside.

“We’re going to take some X-rays and another MRI,” she explained to me. “I want to see how the bone is healing and how the tendons and ligaments are doing. How is it feeling?”

“Better,” I admitted. “I worked pretty hard on my rehab this week. I think the consistency made a big difference. I’m not going to let it slide again.”

“Good,” Sondra replied with a pat on the back.

The technician got me situated and we repeated the things we’d done each time I’d arrived at the hospital. We took a set of X-rays with the arm in a variety of positions. I took the fact that I was able to help him this time as a sign of my return to better fitness.

After the MRI, we moved to a different office. This time, Liz and Brea were permitted to join me, although the security team stayed outside.

The room was a bit cramped with five people. Sondra was there along with a physician that was better trained in what he was looking at.

He glanced at Sondra for a moment and my heart fell. The last thing I wanted was to have to undergo another extensive surgical procedure.

“Excellent,” he said and I couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped my lips. Liz patted my hand and Brea patted my shoulder. “The bone is healing nicely. I’m ... I’m amazed at how well it is knitting.”

The man was from the Indian subcontinent. I wasn’t sure if he was from India or Pakistan (or one of the other countries over there that I couldn’t name) but I recognized his thick accent.

“Travis has been following the protocols you recommended,” Sondra said. “I think that’s the reason things are going so well.”

The man nodded, pleased at having his ego stroked.

“The ligaments and tendons are in good shape,” he continued. “It is far better than I’d hoped. The muscles are showing improvement. This is a good sign. I am a bit concerned about his hand and forearm, however.”

“Yes,” Sondra agreed in a profession voice. “We’re hoping the procedure today will help.”

The man nodded again and pointed to something on the X-ray.

“That’s what we’re taking out,” she said as she followed his finger.

“That should do some,” he said. He stood and walked around the desk, stooped and took my right hand in his. I saw him squeezing my fingers in his but I didn’t feel anything until he got to my forefinger. “I am not certain it will do everything.”

He pulled a medical implement out of his lab coat. It was ... a blunted straight pin on a stick, I thought. He poked my pinkie and got no response. He repeated the process on my ring finger and middle finger. I saw him frown.

“This is not good,” he said.

“You think?” Liz asked in irritation.

“It’s OK, Liz,” I said. “I’ve told all the doctors that I don’t want things sugarcoated. I don’t want to hear things through a filter.”

Liz frowned at me and sighed.

“Even after his procedure today, I’d like for him to wear a muscle stimulator on his forearm,” the man said after returning to his seat (where Liz would at least have to hurdle the desk before she strangled him).

“Will that help?” I asked.

“It will not hurt anything,” he said, shrugging slightly. “As to whether it will do much good, I am not certain. It will keep the muscles from decaying until you’re able to do more with your hand. That is what we can hope for right now.”

I nodded at the gravity in his voice.

Sondra waited until we were alone before bringing it up again.

“You don’t seem surprised,” she said while we waited for the orthopedic surgeon to arrive.

“I am seeing enough improvement to know what’s not improving,” I replied.

“Today is going to help,” she said with certainty.

“I’m sure it will help some,” I told her. “But it might be time to consider that some of this is permanent.”

Sondra sighed but nodded.

“I think it is,” she admitted. “The nerves were ... compromised. I think that’s evident. Some will repair but the neural pathways might be insufficient for motor skills. The most severely damaged might create new and different connections.”

I nodded my agreement.

“Today, if ... there is a choice,” I said, “I’d prefer to have some feeling in my wrist and palm even if I can’t feel my fingers anymore.”

“It’s not going to come down to a choice,” Sondra said. “We’ll do what we can but it’s not like we can pick and choose what’s viable and what isn’t.”

I nodded again. Having some movement in my forearm and hand would permit me to do a lot more than having feeling in two fingers. But I was left with what I could get.

“So, let me explain what we’re going to do today,” Sondra said after softly gripping my fingers.

The next few minutes were spent with her telling me about the procedure and pointing out the area in my elbow that they were going to explore.

I knew she was just buying time for the arrival of the surgeon, who normally worked at the university hospital.

She’d finished long before the man arrived and she offered a sheepish look.

“I was going to wait until after everything was done today but I guess we might as well use our time wisely,” she said. “Today is not entirely about bad news.”

“I haven’t heard anything that I didn’t already consider,” I cut in. Again, Sondra gripped my hand for a moment.

“I know,” she said. “Do you remember when I told you about why I like trauma surgery?”

I smiled at her and nodded.

“It especially applies here,” Sondra said. “You’re ... you’re handling the reality really well. But...”

“Liz is used to snapping her fingers and getting instant gratification,” I finished.

Sondra snorted but nodded slightly.

“Just remember that you said it that way and not me,” she said. “But you’re right. To her, today is going to be a failure if you don’t walk out of here and shake hands with every person in sight. I’m not saying that you won’t. I think it is medically possible that the scarring is what is causing the numbness in your fingers.”