‘You’re off in another world – whatchya thinking about?’ Steve asked, placing two mugs of coffee beside her and taking his seat at the table. Jessica looked up and smiled and, as she did, realised she could have got their breakfast – she was pretty mobile again. But here she was, still Lady Muck being waited on. Steve wasn’t backwards in coming forwards; he would have said something if it bothered him.
‘Just thinking how strange it is that Mum would interrogate Dad on where he’d been and what he’d done. Why do you think that was?’
‘That’s a bit random, isn’t it?’ He sipped his coffee. ‘No idea, dear. Probably something she was insecure about.’
‘Yeah, but why?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe her parents left her somewhere once and she had abandonment issues as a result,’ he offered with a shrug.
‘Hmm.’ That sounded better to Jessica than what she’d conjured up. She bit into her toast.
‘Are you excited about getting your cast off?’
‘I’m excited about being able to shower properly. And it’ll be good to be fully mobile and independent again.’
‘Well, you probably won’t feel totally fine straight away. I’m sure you’ll still have to take it a bit easy for a while – get the muscles and tendons and everything going again.’
That hadn’t even crossed her mind. She’d only been thinking about the bone being healed. But she’d be fine – Steve was just underestimating her previous high level of athleticism and fitness. She’d bounce back just fine, and quickly.
They parked the car in the hospital’s multi-storey car park and made their way up the street – which was a lot steeper than Jessica would have ever believed – and around the front to the ED entrance so they didn’t get lost in the maze of corridors.
Jessica felt queasy and jittery, as she always did when she walked into any hospital – they all smelt and looked pretty much the same. It was too much of a reminder of what she’d lost; of having to say goodbye to her mother and then, just a few months ago, her father. She felt a little shaky on her feet and was glad she’d chosen to use the crutches rather than hobble.
She fleetingly wondered if she’d feel differently when she went into hospital to have her first baby and decided she’d probably feel exactly the same: nervous, apprehensive, sort of queasy. Though she suspected there would be a hefty dose of proper fear, not just mild anxiety.
She sat down in the waiting room and opened the shiny new Woman’s Day Steve handed her from the newsagent bag he’d carried along with her handbag, the bag with her right shoe in it and the walking stick. Jessica had just scanned the contents page and decided on a story when her name was called. That was a good sign! Despite having an appointment, she had figured on sitting here for the next few hours. She looked up and returned the young, heavy-set nurse’s broad smile.
Sitting propped up on the bed in the examination room with her legs stretched out before her, Jessica had a flashback of the last time she’d been in a similar position – six weeks and two days before. She almost gasped when she remembered the pain. Her heart rate rose and she had to force herself to take a deep breath.
‘It’s okay, nothing to worry about; you shouldn’t feel any pain,’ the friendly nurse said kindly, patting her cast.
Jessica knew the thing that looked like a mini angle grinder they used to remove the casts couldn’t actually cut her – it wasn’t a sharp blade but a disc that somehow vibrated and cut only into the rigid material – but apparently Steve didn’t: his eyes were bugging out of his head. He looked from the nurse to the device and back again, no doubt trying to ascertain the level of shake in her hand and how safe his wife’s leg was.
Jessica almost laughed; his expression was priceless. She listened intently to the nurse’s explanation and watched the demonstration to prove the appliance posed no danger – more for Steve’s benefit than her own. He gradually settled back into the chair he was in, appearing to accept what the nurse said.
The nurse put a face mask on just before turning on the appliance and sending fine fibreglass dust into the air. What about me? Jessica wanted to ask.
Jessica watched as the two lines down each side of her leg were completed – it seemed to take an age – and then the split cast was dragged open.
‘God, it stinks!’ she said, and almost gagged as the odour of sweaty, unwashed flesh overpowered the sickly smell of hot fibreglass. ‘Sorry,’ she said, wincing, to the poor nurse, whose nose was a lot closer to the source than her own. Perhaps that was the reason for the mask.
‘It’s okay, quite normal. Just like a sock that’s been worn for six weeks straight,’ she said cheerily.
Yes, but who wears a sock for six weeks straight?
‘Gosh, stinky,’ Steve said, wrinkling his nose and clearly attempting to be polite.
‘Oh God, it gets worse,’ Jessica said, now settling her gaze on the thick, matted hair on her leg. ‘That is disgusting!’ It came as a huge shock. She’d been dutifully keeping her good leg and her armpits hair free, but hadn’t given a thought to what her leg would look like after being covered up for six weeks. What, did you think the hair would just not grow? she heard a voice inside her head say. Well, yes, actually, she probably had thought that. She certainly hadn’t thought about being greeted with this sight.
‘Don’t worry; I’m quite used to it,’ the kindly nurse reassured her when she saw Jessica’s horrified expression. Jessica was still too stunned by what she was looking at to respond.
Perhaps even worse than the hair was the feeling the leg didn’t seem connected to her. She could see her toes wriggling, but it was the strangest experience, almost out of body or something. She couldn’t actually feel them. It was very disconcerting.
‘Now, all the muscles are wasted from being inactive for so long so it’s going to feel a little stiff for a few weeks – possibly up to another six weeks. But you just need to slowly build them up again. I’ll just get rid of this mess and then I can show you some exercises.’ She folded up the cloth, trapping all the dust and debris, and put it on the trolley beside the cutting machine.
Jessica performed the exercises the nurse showed her – it was excruciating, but she did her best to not let on. She was pleased Steve was there to take it in too, as she was feeling sick to her stomach, really quite out of kilter, and barely able to think past how weird she felt. Was she actually going to throw up?
‘Are you okay?’ the nurse asked, looking with concern at Jessica, who was now feeling cold and clammy under her clothes. She’d probably gone pale. Her head was even feeling light and starting to spin. God, what’s happening to me?
‘Actually, I feel a little ill.’
The nurse handed her a plastic disc with a plastic bag attached – a disposable sick bag, Jessica surmised. She held it to her mouth. But she wasn’t actually feeling nauseous, she decided, just weird. She relaxed her arms.
‘You can take that with you, just in case,’ the nurse said.
Steve looked pale and worried.
‘She’s fine,’ the nurse reassured him. ‘It feels weird because the brain is talking to the muscles and everything in the leg but the leg isn’t responding how you expect it to. And it all feels different. It’s just a bit of a disconnect; very normal. Just see a physio if you have any problems or, if you’re really worried, come back in. Did you bring another sock and shoe?’
Steve pulled them out of the bag and handed them over.
Jessica stayed silent, concentrating on breathing and trying to feel the muscles in her leg and making them move. She got very little response and what she did get ached and grated, making her sure she would need the sick bag. The nurse had the sock and shoe on her foot before Jessica realised she could have, should have, done it herself.
‘Right, you’re good to go,’ the nurse said, pulling down Jessica’s track pants leg and giving her foot a pat. ‘Swing your legs over the side and hold the bed while you carefully lower your weight. Take it slowly
.’
Jessica forced herself to comply, but she was terrified. What if it couldn’t support her, this leg that looked to be half the size of the other one, a mere twig? The sick feeling in her stomach intensified in a wave as she felt her bad foot make contact with the lino. Everything felt shaky. Jessica winced. Steve leapt up and was beside her in an instant. Soon she had the nurse holding one arm and Steve holding her other. She was standing. But for how long? She felt very unsteady.
‘Now take a small step forwards,’ the nurse instructed.
Jessica tried, but achieved nothing more than the hobble she’d managed in the cast. God, this wasn’t what she’d expected at all. Tears sprang to her eyes.
‘Are you okay?’ Steve asked.
Jessica nodded slowly.
‘You’re fine,’ the nurse assured her, ‘it’ll just take time. You’re not in any pain are you?’
‘No, I don’t think so,’ Jessica said. What she was feeling wasn’t actually pain, was it? No, it was more an uncomfortable, grating feeling.
‘You’ll probably experience quite a bit of aching and discomfort as the tendons and muscles start to stretch again. Just take it slowly and carefully at first – the soft tissue needs to come back into action. Well, good luck,’ the nurse said, taking off her gloves, signalling her job was done and they were expected to leave.
So that’s it, Jessica thought, and imagined she now knew how a baby bird felt being turfed out of the nest. Within moments the trolley had been wheeled out and they were alone.
‘Righto, just lean on me on this side and use the stick on your good side,’ Steve instructed, handing her the walking stick he’d hooked over the chair he’d been sitting on. Thank God he insisted on bringing it.
In the car, she fought the desire to weep. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go at all. She really had expected to be able to skip out of the hospital. She stared down at her leg that was still practically useless. It barely felt attached, part of her – almost like it was prosthetic: visible but not feeling truly belonging to her.
‘Are you okay?’ Steve asked, patting her thigh.
‘Yep, all good,’ she said, forcing out a smile.
‘You look a bit pale. Would you rather skip lunch and just go home?’
‘No, I’m fine.’ She wasn’t really fine, and she really did just want to get back home and throw herself onto the couch or into bed. But she had to keep up the act she’d been working so hard at. And Steve had been saying for ages how much he’d been looking forward to trying this café and their signature dish, osso bucco. It was the wrong season and weather for it, but too bad. She just hoped for Steve’s sake they still had it on the menu and hadn’t switched to more summery dishes.
‘How’s the leg feeling?’
‘A little weird.’ It was probably the most truthful thing Jessica had said for weeks.
‘Oh, well, like the nurse said, the muscles and tendons will need to learn again. I kind of thought you’d leap up and be fine again,’ he added sheepishly. ‘Shows you what I know.’
‘Me too.’ She was feeling decidedly morose.
Tiffany would say, ‘Clearly the universe thinks you need more rest.’
Stuff the bloody universe, I’m sick of all this, she would have replied.
Chapter Sixteen
The next day, Jessica woke and enjoyed the feeling of no hard cast between her and Steve. She still felt down about life, generally, but liked the subtle change. She snuggled into him and he responded.
Everything will be okay, she told herself later, as she watched Steve getting dressed, after they’d made love – it had felt so right. She thought about the bath they had shared after coming back from the hospital, totally decadent – eating the desserts they had brought home from the café and luxuriating in the warm bubbles – and what had happened when they’d dried each other off.
She waited for him to leave the room before getting up herself. She wasn’t sure why. When she put her feet down and then stood up, she was reminded again of not being totally fine with her leg. She’d made the difficult trip to the loo during the night and almost collapsed when the healing leg hadn’t felt strong enough to support her. Luckily, the sturdy bedside cupboard had caught her and, even luckier, Steve had slept through her distress. She’d sat on the loo and given into her tears of frustration and anguish before returning to bed. Her eyes still felt a little puffy.
Jessica got dressed and concentrated on carefully putting one foot in front of the other to make her way out to the kitchen. She couldn’t continue with the shuffling, dragging gait she’d used yesterday if she didn’t want to end up with a permanent limp. It was excruciating; both the pain in her protesting leg and the effort needed not to give in to the sick feeling in her stomach, caused, she imagined, by spasms shooting from her right foot. She plastered on a smile as she emerged in her track pants and running shoes.
‘Wow, look at you; you’ve barely got a limp!’ Steve exclaimed.
‘Yeah, it’s feeling good,’ Jessica lied through clenched teeth. It was excruciating. ‘I’m just going to go for a walk.’
‘Want me to come with you in case it lets you down?’
‘Thanks, but I’ll be fine.’ She wasn’t fine and wasn’t totally sure she wouldn’t collapse somewhere along their driveway, but she had to stop being so damned dependent. And at least while she had the pain to concentrate on it took her mind off Prince and Beau, her stupidity and haste in giving up her dream, not to mention how badly she’d let her father down. And how much she missed him. She still felt sure that if he were here none of this would have happened. She wanted to be angry with him for leaving her, but every time she was, guilt consumed her. The best she could do was get her leg better – everything would flow from that.
Jessica set off down the road, being careful that her steps were even and normal. It was slow going and very painful, but no pain, no gain. Hell, she’d been a successful eventer; that took guts, courage, determination and the ability to focus and ride through the fear and, at times, pain. I can do this, she told herself. Though halfway down the driveway, she wasn’t sure she could. She was sweating from the exertion – and from the shock and queasiness of dealing with a limb that still didn’t totally feel part of her.
She wanted to stop and sit down – give up. But she kept going, putting one foot in front of the other. Just to the end and back, that was her goal for the day. Stuff this taking it easy idea; when did that ever get you anywhere?
The dogs had long since given up on her – she was going too slow – and had raced ahead, darting here and there as they followed various scents. If the horses were still here they would have kept her company, following the fence line. She missed them.
Jessica leant on a gate post and looked back to the house. It was miles away. Jesus, she was in agony. She was surprised to find herself starting to cry. She pulled herself together, hoicked her shoulders up, and prepared to put one foot in front of the other again to make her way back. She yearned to throw herself onto the plush couch. That would be her reward. She just had to get there. No, she would get there, no matter how long it took.
She was around halfway back when she looked up to see Steve’s ute coming towards her. He stopped and wound down the window.
‘Do you want a ride back? That’s probably far enough for you on your first day,’ he said.
‘Thanks, but I’m fine.’ Damned pride!
‘Well, if you’re sure?’ he said, sounding doubtful. She mustn’t have been quick enough to replace the wince on her features with a light, carefree smile. She noted the dogs had taken up Steve’s offer and had leapt onto the back. He got out to chain them on securely and she took another grating, painful step forwards as if to prove her point, then raised her hand and put her head down to concentrate on each step on the uneven ground.
‘Okay then,’ he called, before getting back in and driving off.
*
Jessica allowed herself to lie back on the bed while n
o one was around to see just how much the short walk had taken out of her. She was clearly unfit – she’d been huffing and puffing after just a few metres. She was used to pushing herself physically, but the pain had been so bad it had actually taken her breath away with each step. When she put weight on the defective leg it was like a knife being driven through it. When the leg was raised and not bearing weight, the pain changed to an uncomfortable dragging, grating feeling that set her teeth on edge. And now she had a headache starting up. Her leg was supposed to have healed while in plaster, but it didn’t feel at all mended. Jesus.
She hoped Steve would be away for hours so she’d be spared having the extra burden and exhaustion of putting on a happy face for him. It was all very trying. Hopefully tomorrow she’d be stronger. But what the hell would she do for the rest of today? At this rate she’d be collapsed on the couch when he came home.
After lunch she’d have another go at a walk. She’d take some ibuprofen to mask the pain. If only she still had some decent painkillers … Jessica’s mind strayed to how she could get some before telling herself off. Until recently, the easy way out had never been her gig. Hard work was what everything worthwhile took. No buts about it. The accident had changed her in more ways than she realised.
Jessica lay on the bed doing the exercises she’d been given. It was almost as painful as the weight-bearing walking, but in a different way. At least there was no sharp pain; this just felt weird and icky.
Had Steve said how long he’d be gone, or where he was going, for that matter? She couldn’t remember. There was a time not so long ago when she would have enquired and he would have told her, would have asked her if she needed anything or if she wanted to go along. She pushed aside the feeling that they were slipping away from each other. Hadn’t they proved last night – and again this morning – how committed to each other they were? No, she was just feeling lousy, generally, and that was affecting how she saw everything.
Leap of Faith Page 14