Chapter 67
Dawson
As the days wore on, I remembered what had happened, why I was in the hospital. Dr. Cortez had explained the treatment that he utilized and how it likely saved my life. It was something that was not typically used on werewolves, but my situation was not typical. I still couldn’t tell what was happening with my wolf. It was like a door was shut in the back of my mind. I knew he was behind it, but how do I open it?
The doctor was trying different types of therapy to see if he could get my wolf to come out. I was seeing a neurologist and a psychotherapist. Both were trying different things. One day the neurologist said he wanted to see if I could heal quickly or not. This would at least tell us if my wolf was in there. I begrudgingly agreed to his test, hoping that my wolf would be there.
We walked outside to the courtyard, a few tools and some medical supplies. I had asked to do this outside. I was tired of the sterile walls of the hospital. I needed some air. As we walked around to the back of the flower garden, where we could be somewhat hidden, he had me sit on a bench. The doctor took out a sterile scalpel and had me hold my hand over a surgical towel. We had discussed this at length, so that I knew what would take place. The doctor carefully cut a very deep incision into the palm of my hand, then wrapped it in a surgical towel to stop the blood flow. We waited a couple of minutes and removed the towel. The incision had begun to knit together, the bleeding almost stopped. I grinned ear to ear. Thank the Moon Goddess.
We weren’t finished yet. This was something small. What if something worse happened to me? Was my wolf strong enough to heal something more severe? We sat in silence, me with my eyes closed, calling to my wolf in my mind. I thought I felt a flicker of something but couldn’t be sure. Once the cut on my hand was nearly healed, barely a trace it was there, the doctor had me follow him further into the garden. What he was going to do next was not going to be pleasant.
We walked back to a grassy area, and I lay down with one arm outstretched to my side. We decided it was best to use my non–dominant arm in the event I couldn’t heal properly. I closed my eyes and told the doctor not to tell me when he was going to move forward with his task. I did not want to anticipate it, that would make it worse. My nerves were already raw. I lay there breathing quietly, focusing on the air in and air out. Just when I was about to open my eyes to tell him to get on with it, I felt an excruciating, jarring pain to my left forearm. The pain shot up my arm as the metal forceps clamped around it, squeezing. I opened my eyes and looked over, it was a clean break.
The doctor kneeled beside me, talking to me as he splinted the arm, asking if I had sensation in my fingers and then in my elbow. A bone knitting back together properly was a good test of my wolfs strength. The pain had passed, leaving behind a wave of nausea as the doctor manipulated the splint. As he took my other hand to help me stand, I felt pressure in my head, and then darkness.
Ashlynn
I raced to the hospital when Dr. Cortez called to inform that there had been a development. I had literally dropped what I was doing, handing my vet tech the blood samples I had just taken from a mare, giving him quick instruction on what to do next.
I pulled up in front of the hospital, barely taking the time to throw the truck in park and rip my keys from the ignition. I ran down the hallway to the unit that Dawson had been moved to days earlier, since he was no longer critical. Dr. Cortez was waiting for me at the door. He held his hand up, indicating for me to stop, as I was running towards him. I’m sure I looked a mess, I was still in scrubs, with drops of blood on my
pants.
“Hello Ashlynn, it’s good to see you,” he gave me a smirk as he looked at my messy appearance. “You didn’t have to rush you know, you could have changed.”
‘Oh uh, yeah well the nurse said it was important. What happened?“, I asked.
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