Chapter 130 – Cycle (2)
Three days of metronomic beeps and whispered soles.
Levi remained tethered to the epidural, but a subtle shift occurred: the dosage was gradually reduced, a cautious first step towards mobilizing him. Thankfully, the aggressive preventative measures – the diligent nurses with their rhythmic massages, the alternating hot and cold therapies, and a host of other treatments shrouded in medical jargon – had kept the specter of another blood clot at bay. Throughout this slow progression, Levi consistently reported his pain as two out of ten.
The day the nurses finally changed the dressing on his abdomen felt monumental. As they peeled back the layers of gauze, my breath hitched. Stretching across his lower abdomen was a curved line of outer stitches, as long as my entire palm. And the thought of the intricate network of internal stitches, sent a fresh wave of nausea, through me.
In other, less pressing news, the tiny devil horns that had sprouted on my forehead had vanished. However, my torso and abdomen remained a vibrant, abstract painting of blues, purples, greens, and yellows. A stark reminder of my own fragility came in the hospital cafeteria when a distracted individual bumped into me, eliciting a sharp, involuntary yell. Yes. That shit still hurt like a particularly vengeful bitch.
The daily walks down the sterile hospital corridor became a small but significant ritual, a testament to Levi's slow but steady progress. Thankfully, these initial forays into the world of the ambulatory were not marred by the sharp cries of pain that had haunted the early days. Each day brought a tangible improvement, a strengthening of his gait, a less strained expression on his face. Following each walk, the nurses would administer to his legs with focused attention – therapeutic massages to further ward off any threat of clotting. My formidable lion, battered but unbroken, was slowly, surely, reclaiming his strength.
Another day dawned. Today was the day. The removal of the epidural catheter. This was the true test. If Levi could manage his pain with the reduced nerve block, the medical team would transition him to a regimen of non-narcotic oral pain medication.
The moment the last trace of epidural numbness faded from Levi's body was brutal. A grimace contorted his features, his breath hitched, and a low groan escaped his lips, escalating with each passing second. When the nurse asked for a pain assessment, his clipped reply of "Six out of ten" was delivered through clenched teeth. A small victory, perhaps, compared to the initial post-operative 8/10, but watching him writhe in torment was a fresh wave of heartbreak.
As the minutes ticked by, his suffering was palpable. Every muscle in his body seemed to tense, his jaw clenched tightly, his knuckles turned white as he gripped the bed rails. The nurses, urged him to remain still, warning about potentially tearing his stitches.
As the first tendrils of relief began to weave their way through Levi's system, a visible slackening spread through his tense muscles. He exhaled a shaky breath and his head fell back against the pillow with a soft thud. "Three out of ten," he murmured, the pronouncement sending a wave of near-euphoric relief over me. A day or two. Maybe just a day or two, and we could finally escape this sterile, soul-crushing place. Gods, the longing for a hot shower, a decent meal, and uninterrupted sleep was a gnawing ache within me. And Levi, deserved that respite even more.
The fragile peace was soon punctuated by a pragmatic discussion between Levi and the doctor, their voices low and serious as they addressed the potential risks of infection, the ever-present threat of another blood clot, and a litany of other medical contingencies that made my stomach clench with anxiety. The outcome, however, brought a measure of comfort: a private nurse would be arranged to care for Levi at home, ensuring his well-being was closely monitored. I didn't entirely trust my own capabilities in this situation. My feelings of inadequacy were compounded by the undeniable reality that even in his current bruised and stitched state, Levi possessed a raw physical strength that surpassed mine. In the throes of a pain flare, those moments when agony washed over him like a tidal wave, there was simply no way I could physically restrain him from inadvertently tearing his stitches.
…
Finally, the day of Levi's discharge dawned. Adding to the relief was the arrival of Dr. Nora, Levi's personal physician, whom I had wondered why he hadn't contacted sooner. It turned out her absence was due to her participation in an overseas charity program.
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Dr. Nora's consultation with Levi was thorough and detailed, his explanations of the past week's ordeal met with her focused attention. Following their private discussion, she engaged in a lengthy conversation with Levi's primary doctors at the Academia. She even took the time to examine my own colorful torso. Levi's trust in Dr. Nora's medical judgment was absolute, and her initial hesitation regarding his discharge was understandable. However, after careful consideration of his progress and, I suspected, a keen understanding of the toll this environment was taking on both of us, a collective decision was reached: we all needed a respite from the Academia's cold embrace.
With a lightness in my chest I hadn't felt in days, I propelled Levi's wheelchair down the corridors. Thank the Gods we were finally escaping this place. A silent, fervent fuck you echoed in my mind towards Griffith Blake.
The drive home was filled with a quiet elation. With Levi's amused encouragement, the moment we crossed the threshold, I sprinted towards the shower, desperate to shed the layers of hospital grime, the sticky residue of antiseptic, the cloying scent of sweat and despair, the heavy weight of sadness and helplessness, the lingering phantom of agony – all the invisible detritus of our ordeal.
As I emerged, feeling somewhat human again, Dr. Nora was already on the phone, arranging for Levi's ongoing care. Soon after, a male nurse named Leo arrived. He was noticeably taller and more physically imposing than Levi, a fact that brought a strange sense of relief. At least this gentle giant had a fighting chance of keeping my stubborn lion safe.
With Dr. Nora's reassuring presence fading as she left, a sense of quiet normalcy began to settle over the house. I prepared chamomile tea for Leo and myself, and a mug of his favorite hot chocolate for Levi. Even my formidable lion seemed to visibly unwind in the embrace of our home, his usually taut frame languidly sprawled on the soft cushions of the living room couch.
However, the challenges of his recovery were still starkly apparent. While the mechanics of urination seemed manageable, the prospect of bowel movements loomed like a formidable threat. Thank the gods for Leo, ready to assist with the more… delicate aspects of Levi's care.
While our guest room served as my beloved recording studio, Leo was settled into my own bedroom. I quickly tidied the space, making it as welcoming as possible, and offered Leo a brief tour of the house, pointing out essentials and boundaries.
Finally, Levi and I could steal a precious moment of quietude. Leo's steady arm provided the necessary support as Levi moved with slowness to our master bedroom. With Leo's gentle assistance, he lowered himself onto the bed. A moment later, I cautiously laid down beside him.
"Levi…" I murmured, "Should... should we sleep in separate beds tonight?"
"Hm... To be entirely candid, my dearest Pulla, separate sleeping arrangements might be the more... prudent course of action. For your sake as much as mine." He paused, a wry smile touching his lips. "Imagine, if you will, the delightful spectacle of my morning grumpiness, amplified tenfold by post-operative discomfort and the distinct absence of pain medication. The ensuing symphony of groans, and perhaps even the odd involuntary yelp of agony... it is not a particularly soothing serenade to awaken to."
"I... understand." The logic was undeniable, but the longing for closeness still tugged at my heart. "Then... could I at least rest my head on your shoulder for a moment? Just... for now?"
"Oh, my dear Raphael," he said, his voice laced with a touch of his old strength. "I am not quite so fragile as all that." With a gentle pull of his warm hand, he guided my head to rest on his shoulder. I settled against him, barely exerting any pressure, simply wanting to feel the familiar warmth of his body and inhale his scent. Gods, he desperately needed a shower. It wasn't that he smelled unpleasant, not exactly, but beneath the faint medicinal odor, I could still detect the lingering aroma of the past two weeks. It struck me with a sudden pang, we had been married for a year, and we had only had one real date. One single, uninterrupted evening together before our lives had been thrown into chaos.
"Levi..." I began, my voice a soft murmur against his shoulder. "You mentioned another gift, something that was waiting for me at home. You never told me what it was..."
He sighed contentedly, the hand resting on my head gently stroking my hair. "I do wish to wait, my dear, until I can present it to you properly. Until I can move about on my own two feet. Then, and only then, will you receive my surprise."
"Can't you just give me a tiny hint?" I pleaded, lifting my head slightly to look at him, my curiosity now fully piqued. "Just a little peek behind the curtain?"
"No," he replied, his voice firm but laced with a mischievous smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.
Damn him. Even stitched up like a misshapen onion sack, he still possessed that effortless dominance, that infuriatingly charming blend of playfulness and subtle menace that always left me wanting more.