Chapter 142: The Aftermath

Warren had surgery on Tuesday morning. He met with the doctor the next day, with Sophia there.

"Warren, it went well. There wasn't anything too tricky in there, so it looks like it's just going to come down to time, and rehab. You're not scared of hard work are you?"

"Not at all," Warren said, "my problem is going to be that there's not enough hours in the day."

"You'll make time."

"I'll have to, but it's going to be tough," Warren told him. "I'm married," he said, pointing to Sophia. "We have a little girl who's two years old. Plus, I'm a senior, here at UW. Remember your senior year in college, Doc?"

"Yeah, but I was a pre-med," he laughed.

"Exactly. As am I."

"Really? You carrying a solid GPA?"

"3.8, and that's with a year's sabbatical after my sophomore year, and that's while maintaining a high-level figure skating career, and a girlfriend who became a wife, and--the past year--a kid."

"Ah, that should get you into med school next year," the Doc grinned.

"The year after," Warren grinned back. "I'm taking next year off. It's an Olympic year, so it's going to be our last year as competitive skaters, then it's off to med school for me."

"So, you're going to work his way through med school?" the Doc joked to Sophie.

"Don't have to. We've gotten a lot of money from endorsements."

"Well, mostly her, so I guess she did work her way through my med school," Warren joked.

"This is the fringe benefit of being World Champions. They want you to do commercials," Sophie joked. "So, med school is well taken care of, and he won't graduate with a mountain of debt--and, as an added bonus, I don't have to work, so, while he's in med school, I plan to stay home and pump out more babies," Sophie grinned.

"When we win the gold medal next year--notice I said when, not if," Warren joked. "Anyhow, when we win it, Sophie keeps threatening to pull up her dress on the medal stand and have me knock her up right there."

"Oh, if I'm ovulating that night, you're in big trouble," she joked. "Not before, though," she grinned. "I skated in the last Olympics two months pregnant, don't ever want to do that again."

"How old are you guys?" the Doctor asked.

"Sophie's 22," Warren said. "I'm 21."

"I'm the older woman by nine months," Sophie joked.

"That's a hell of a full life for kids your age," the Doc marvelled.

"It keeps us hopping," Warren agreed.

"So, since you're pre-med, ever think of orthopedics?" the Doc asked Warren.

"I'd planned on pediatrics."

"Ah. I'd thought of that, but then I decided I wanted to do surgery. And, in my practice, I see a lot of young people anyhow."

"Really?" Warren said.

"Yes. I'm an orthopedic surgeon, but my specialty is sports medicine. I usually don't operate on car crash victims," he grinned, "but they called me in because you're an athlete. Anyhow, when you specialize in sports medicine, you see a lot of kids; high school and college especially. Let's see, in the past couple weeks, besides you, I had a high school pitcher with a torn rotator cuff; a football player here at UW with a knee; a high school football player with a dislocated shoulder; a young girl of 11 who plays soccer who broke her ankle, and so on. Most of my adult patients are competitive high-level athletes like yourself."

"Hmmm. Something to think about," Warren mused.

"You've got all four years of med school to think," the Doctor grinned, "but you're perfect, since you're an athlete. You know all about conditioning, you know the demands on an athlete. And you're about to find all about rehab."

"Don't remind me," Warren grimaced.

Thursday at around noontime, it happened. Ryan was sitting at Jessie's bed, reading to her, when her eyes fluttered open. She looked around, focused her eyes, then said, "Ryan?"

"You're awake! Thank goodness!"

"Where am I?"

"You're in the hospital. You were in a car accident. You've been in a coma for five days."

"God," she gasped. "I don't remember a thing." She grinned. "The last thing I remember is you kissing me goodnight after our date Friday night, and me going to bed."

"It happened the next day. From what I understand, you went grocery shopping with Warren on Saturday, you guys were driving home, and some drunk guy ran a red light."

"Oh, my. How's Warren?"

"He tore his knee up, but they say he'll be OK. How are you feeling?"

"Fuzzy," she giggled. "It's funny, I thought I was asleep. I remember dreaming. You were talking to me." She blushed a little. "I remember it being kind of, well, naughty."

Ryan laughed, and held up the book. "I've been reading you romances. They said it was good to talk to you, and Sophie told me you like these, so I've been reading romances to you. All those ripping bodices and thrusting loins."

"That'll do it," Jess giggled.

"I have to go tell the nurse you're awake. And you're parents--they're here, but went down to get something to eat."

"OK," she smiled. Ryan headed out. Shortly thereafter, the nurse came in.

"Well! Welcome back to the world of the living."

"I think it's good to be back," Jessie grinned.

"How do you feel?"

"Fuzzy. A little disoriented. I don't remember anything the day of the accident--Ryan told me what happened--so I feel a little strange. And thirsty!"

"I can fix that one at least." The nurse stepped out, and returned with a cup of ice water. "Slow sips, you've been on an IV for almost a week. I have to ask you, that guy that was in here. They told me he's not your boyfriend?"