Irreparable (Wounded Souls) (3 page)

I gulp and look at the girl who was always quiet and never got in anyone’s way. Actually, come to think of it, I am pretty sure she was the mousey kid all the preppy girls like Mary Beth shoved around. “I’ll be damned! Samantha Blalock grew some damn balls!” I smirk and look at her.

“At least someone did,” she retaliates as she sits down in the chair and pulls up to my legs.

“Really, low blow,” I growl and she pats my hand.

“Don’t come in here acting like a big shot. You will get put in your place. We aren’t ten anymore J.” She smiles and grabs my knee and starts to unbandage it.  “Any phantom pain?” 

Really? Phantom pain?  “Not yet, but I was on a lot of meds in the hospital.” I meet her eyes and she just shakes her head. “Be prepared then. They are a bitch when they finally happen.”  She pulls off the bandage and looks at my nub right where my knee should be.  “Healed up really nice. You’re gonna do great with the prosthetics we have. Since you’re almost like family, I’ll make sure you’ve got the best.” She winks and goes to walk out of the room.

“Thanks, Sam,” I wince. I am so not used to having people help me.

An hour later I have my legs taped and have tried on ten different prosthetics. I finally find a pair that I actually feel comfortable in.  Sam surprises me by keeping me in my place and not letting me feel sorry for myself. 

“You have no reason to feel sorry for yourself J. You get to breathe another day and you get to see the light of the sun in the morning. When that doesn’t happen, then you have a reason to be sorry, but until then, shut up and get up,” Sam says. She stands and holds her hands out to help me up.

“Are you kidding me? I don’t want you to help me up! If I am going to do this, I am going to do it by myself,” I growl out. I’m a damn man for crying out loud. I may have lost my legs but my balls are still between my fucking legs. I watch as Sam just stands there and stares, before letting out a long huff.

“Look Jameson, I know you have this man complex, but you have to let me help you for now.  I can help you from the table, but once your stupid ass hits the floor, the big dogs have to come pick you up. So what’s it gonna be?” She eyes me, and sighs when she can tell my mind’s been made up.  She takes a step back, puts her hands on her hips and looks at me while I stand on the new legs I’ve been given. Lord wouldn’t you know? The bitch was right! 

She laughs! She actually fucking laughs as I fall to the floor on my ass. “I told you so.” She smiles and this just pisses me off more.  When did sweet innocent Sam become such a bitch?

“You knew I’d fall didn’t you?” I growl as I try to push up on my hands. I don’t really know how to work the prosthetics and I keep landing on my ass again.

“I told you. Now sit your ass there while I call for help,” she laughs out. Then she turns and walks out of the room to leave me there lying on the ground, helpless yet again.

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Two days later I am back in the physical therapy room, watching as men and women just like me are put back together. I can tell Sam is in her element and that she loves doing this.  She sees me and walks over, hands on her hips and smirks, “Ready for day number two?” “You’re a bitch Sam.” I raise an eyebrow and she smiles.

“Well, I’m the bitch your momma warned you about.” She laughs softly and I shake my head. 

“Wow, don’t do that! You’re not Luke.” I laugh and she slaps my arm. “Hey!  Don’t slap me! HELP! She’s beating me!” I yell out and the guy working with another woman on walking with her one leg and prosthetic, laughs.

“They know we grew up together. I mean most of them know you whether you know it or not.”  She laughs softly and starts to tape up my legs.  “Hurting at all today?”  She looks at me as she rubs over my sore legs.

“Not so bad. Yesterday hurt like hell. It felt like fire ants were attacking me.” I gasp and then I feel it - my first bout of phantom pain.

“I told you it was coming.”  She looks at me, my hands white from gripping the bed and clenching my jaw to quit from screaming.  “Right here?” she asks and I look at her like she’s lost her mind. She is rubbing the air where my calf used to be and it actually seems to be making the pain ease up. My breathing starts to return to normal and I gasp.

“Thanks,” I pant from the exertion I just placed on myself. 

“Anytime. That’s part of the job. Every person you see in here has gone through it, and it isn’t over; it will happen again. It’s part of getting healthy.” She has a sad look in her eyes, but for once when I see this look from her, it’s not pity - it’s understanding.  Does she think she understands anything that I have gone through? Sam hasn’t gone to war; she hasn’t seen things I have. She’s been in small town Louisiana and probably will never know what it’s like to feel damaged.

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Two weeks go by and I am starting to get better on the prosthetics Sam has me walking with.  I am sitting on the table waiting for Sam to come in the room. Glancing at my phone, I see that Johnson has sent a text.  He just doesn’t know when to let up. I’ll call when I’m ready. 

Sam comes into the room with purple scrubs that have an outline of lime green on the neckline and the strings of her pants. I have to hold back a chuckle when I look down to see the bright ass lime green sneakers she has on her feet.

“Morning, Jameson. I want to look at your legs for a bit before we start your therapy.  You okay with that?” She smiles at me and then she sits down on the chair. She meets my gaze and I notice again that the light doesn’t touch her eyes there anymore.  What the hell happened to it?

“Yeah, they’ve been kind of tender the last few days.” I put my arms down by my side and lean forward a bit as Sam starts to un-bandage my legs.

“That’s totally normal. Bruising will occur the first few weeks, but as the skin toughens, it won’t hurt as much.  That’s why it takes so long for people to get up on their legs after something like this.”  She smiles and touches what’s left of my leg.

“Ow,” I hiss and jump as she hits a tender spot. 

“There’s a pretty big bruise here. Sorry, I wasn’t trying to hurt you on purpose…this time.” She looks at me and laughs. “Tonight, when you get home, I want you to soak in the tub. Get some Epsom salt to put in it. It will help you with the swelling a bit.” She smiles and stands up.  “Now it’s time to wrap you back up and get on with your therapy.”  Yep, she totally wants me to die.

I hate the parallel bar thing they make me walk with while holding onto it.  It reminds me of the monkey bars kids play on at the playground, only they come up to my hips and don’t have the little bars going through it. I walk on this holding the bars as I take steps. This is ridiculous. Is it really that hard to walk on these things?

I let go of the bar and almost topple face first. Okay, yes. It really is that hard to walk on these. “I told you to quit that. You’re going to hurt yourself even more Carter. Just listen to me for once, please,” Sam says from behind me.

“I do listen,” I say and she laughs loudly. 

“Sure, that’s why you broke your arm in second grade, huh?” I laugh. I had forgotten about that. Luke, Sam, and I went down to the creek and Luke told me he didn’t think I would use the rope swing to jump the bend and I of course disagreed. Sam begged us both to stop and kept saying that someone would get hurt. And what do you know? She was right.  I couldn’t play peewee football that year because my arm was broken. 

“Point well taken,” I huff as I walk more on the prosthetics. A girl is beside me learning to use her hand prosthetic, and I have to give it to Sam. These aren’t the cheap prosthetic hands. These are the ones that have the covering to actually make it look like it isn’t fake. I mean, yeah you can tell it isn’t her real hand, but from a distance it doesn’t look fake.

I use my head to point in her direction and look at Sam.  “What happened to her hand?” I whisper to Sam and she smiles.

“She doesn’t bite.  Ask her.” With that she turns and walks away. Well, great. I don’t want to be friendly. I just want to walk again.

“I heard you ask her.  I got bit by a rattlesnake in the desert sleeping. They had to cut my hand off to save me.  We were too far away from help so we cut it and made a tourniquet to stop the bleeding. So here I am.” She smiles. “I’m Jade.” She waves her hand a little and then starts to practice picking up things with her new hand. “I heard about you, PFC Carter. You saved one of your guys. That was a brave thing to do.” I groan, and she gives me a sad look. “I won’t say more, but it was. I know you battle with the four you lost, trust me. I lost one myself.” Her eyes glaze over as she remembers her own faults.

“Yeah, that hurts like a bitch.” I laugh a little. 

“Yeah it does,” she says as she gets up and puts her good hand on my shoulder.  “It gets easier to deal with.  I promise.” She gives me a sad smile and then walks away.

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A few weeks later and I am actually able to walk around on the prosthetics, but I can’t wear them for longer than an hour or so.  Paul comes in and is doing therapy with me as we talk and cut up. He’s a really nice guy, but not someone I’d want to piss off.  He kind of reminds me of that MMA fighter Chael Sonnen. He could probably be the guys’ decoy with a hat on his head.

“Paul, I pay you to help him, not give him things to rib me about,” Sam says as she walks by with a smile on her face, one that I notice still hasn’t reached her eyes. 

“Aw Sam, we were just talking about how good your butt looks in those jeans,” Paul says and winks. 

“Not funny,” she growls and walks away. 

“Um, dude, that’s your boss. I don’t think you’re supposed to say shit like that.”  He laughs and shrugs. 

“She’s just mad ‘cause I asked Sally for her number after we went out on a date last month. But you’re right, she is the boss lady. I should have never have gone out with her either.” He laughs a little and then goes back to helping me with building up my leg muscles again.  Today I have been working on my hamstrings, adductors, and quadriceps.

“Come on Carter, I’m going to bring you to the aqua therapy room.” I look up to see Sam standing beside me with a wheel chair. Really? A wheel chair?

“Sam, I want to walk.” I can see a fight coming.

“Fine, but I am bringing the chair ‘cause you’re going to need it.” I am determined to not need that damn cell. Yes, that’s exactly what it is - it’s my personal cell.  It confines me and makes me weak. I will learn to walk again and I will not look back.   Finally we make it to the pool and I groan from the pain in my legs. 

“You should have sat down in the chair Carter. No one here is judging you.  They are going through it too, and I sure as hell won’t judge you.  No one said this would be easy because it’s not. You are going to hurt; you’re going to fall; and you’re going to need help.  Don’t be a macho man. You are going to fail if you don’t let someone help you.”

She takes off my new legs, then unwraps one leg while I unwrap the other and wheels me to the side of the pool.  I used to love to swim but now it isn’t as fun as it used to be. I get why they have me swimming. It really does build the muscle back into my leg and it helps soothe the pain.

“You’re doing great J. Just like when we were kids. You’ll be back to normal in no time, I promise you.” That is one thing that makes me glad to know Samantha.  She was always trying to help someone and she never gave up on anyone. That is a great characteristic for someone to have. Now if only I could have that outlook on life, because if I was her, I’d have given up on me months ago.

It’s been five months since Sam and I have been doing this physical therapy shit, and wouldn’t you know, she really has become the biggest bitch since high school.  I wonder what the hell has crawled up her ass in the last four years. It’s not like she’s the one missing both her legs.  I sit on the examiner bed waiting for her to come in, thinking about what happened last night with Mary-Beth. I’m pretty sure I scared the shit out of her, but she doesn’t understand what I am going through either.  It’s hard to depend on people. Today I am going to walk out of here with my prosthetics attached to my legs, not with the damn wheelchair I have been bound to. 

“JAMESON!!!!” I hear Mary-Beth screaming and shaking me but I can’t stop the screams coming from my mouth. M
y legs are in so much pain and I just keep trying to rub them.  She’s shaking me like I’ve gone crazy and looking at me with fear.

“Jameson! Please baby! Tell me how to help you!” She is searching frantically for something. I am afraid she
may be looking for the phone to call the psych ward.  I take a few deep breaths and look at her. 

“Mary-Beth… I need you to rub my legs,
please.  They hurt.”  I keep rubbing the air where my legs used to be and she looks at me like I am crazy. 

“Baby, there’s nothing there.” She looks at me apologetically. “Don’t ask; please Mary-Beth, just do it. Sam normally does this at therapy. It’s phantom pains. Please just do this for me,” I beg her through clenched teeth and at last
she complies.  Finally we are able to go back to sleep, and as we do I get this feeling I may have pushed
Mary-Beth a little too far.