Page 31 of The Recovery Coach
“It’s like a hundred steps.”
Technically, only ten steps were listed.But they seemed like an involved ten steps.“We’ll start with the shower,” she said.“Step one.We need to cover your bandage so it doesn’t get wet.”She grabbed the plastic and tape included in the pile of supplies and dropped a towel on the tile floor.Kneeling on the towel to keep her knees comfortable, she pulled the Velcro holding his brace on free.
Connor winced, and she panicked.“Shit, did that hurt?I don’t think it’s supposed to hurt.”
He shook his head.“It’s fine, bumped a bruise.”
She searched his face for any sign of real pain but found none, so she continued.The brace came off easily, and wrapping the bandage in plastic proved easy too.When she finished, she sat on her heels and grinned.“There.Good to go.”
Realizing he may need more help than she anticipated, she turned on the water to heat.Surprisingly, his shower had one of those shower-assistance chairs already waiting for him, and she breathed a sigh of relief.Valentine must have set it up.Connor had been dressing himself, so she figured he could manage the undressing if she helped him up.Once standing, he easily stripped out of his athletic shorts.
His black boxer briefs remained firmly in place as she helped him over the lip of the shower and into the shower chair.She handed him the detachable shower head, and as the hot water rolled over his toes for the first time, he yelped.“Jesus Christ, what is it with women and thinking they need to be boiled alive to get clean?”
Olivia giggled.She liked her showers hot enough to turn her skin pink.“It’s relaxing!”
“It’s fucking not,” he said, laughing and adjusting the temperature.
“You got it from here?”
“Yeah.Don’t go too far, though.I’ll need help out.”
She closed the shower door and sat on the toilet, reading the instructions for changing the dressing on his incisions.The time he spent washing gave her time to reflect.Over the years, Olivia somehow rewrote history in her head.She liked to blame Lance for dropping out of nursing school.
When they started getting serious, she’d been in the midst of an identity crisis, debating whether she should continue with the rigorous courses.He encouraged her to quit.She wanted to be a mom, and nurses had notoriously bad schedules.She also wouldn’t need a decades-long career because he would earn enough for her to stay home.Getting the degree didn’t guarantee her a career.Olivia would still have to pass the exam, and she sucked at standardized testing.
In his mind the only point in favor of the nursing degree was her potential ability to support him through medical school, but she could do that with any degree.
Knowing what she did now, she probably wouldn’t have abandoned her childhood dream so readily.Lance’s points were valid, but they’d also been manipulative.If she had been talking to Connor, he would have encouraged her to continue working toward her goal, but the decision happened to fall during the period they were both protecting their hearts.Her best friend at the time, Jake, advised her to stay in the program, but she didn’t listen.
It had taken years of coursework to get into nursing school, and Olivia dropped it with little hesitation.She stayed in college but graduated with a general studies degree that may as well have been a high school diploma for how many opportunities it brought her.Lance was almost two full years ahead of her in school, and she worked her ass off to put him through medical school, paying their rent and running their household while working full time to support his dreams expecting he would return the favor down the line.
Faced with the first changing of Connor’s bandages, Olivia realized that no matter how much she blamed Lance, she never would have finished nursing school.
As a kid nursing seemed like the best career.Practical.Economical.Always in demand.She would never go without a job.She would help people.Might be able to work with kids.In practice, Olivia simply did not have the stomach for it.As kids she’d never faced a severe injury.She assumed she had a strong stomach because she didn’t faint at the sight of blood.Turns out she had just never seen a quantity of blood worthy of her squeamishness.
Somehow, during the years since choosing a different life path, she’d forgotten how much any type of body gore made her queasy.
When the water turned off, Olivia handed Connor a towel and a clean pair of black boxer briefs.
While he dried himself and got decent, she organized the pile of gauze and ace bandages on the bathroom counter.Neither of them had seen his scars yet, and her stomach twisted in anticipation.
She helped Connor sit on the closed toilet seat, and he stretched his legs out in front of him.Olivia read through the meticulous notes she’d already memorized with him, then set the piece of paper aside.She knelt in front of him.“You ready?”she asked.
He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing.His face became a sickly shade of green.Olivia shuffled closer to him and dragged his face close to hers with one hand.She kissed his cheek.“It’s going to be fine.Count the shower tiles or something.I’ll be as quick as possible.”
Connor followed her advice, staring directly at the ceiling.Olivia slowly unwrapped the plastic and bandage, doing her best to avoid ripping the hair off his thigh.In all the times she’d imagined fondling his ridiculously defined thigh muscles, this particular image never came to mind.She also hadn’t pictured herself being nauseous about the opportunity to reveal more of his skin, but there she was.
Taking the bandage off revealed bloody, pus-soaked gauze that she took a deep breath before peeling off.She had to remind herself to breathe through her mouth to stem the nausea.They’d been hoping the dressing would be dry so they could leave the jagged incisions open to heal on their own, but the tightly stitched wounds still oozed clear liquid.
The skin around the sutures was splotchy purple and green, with broken blood vessels spotted throughout the bruising.Involuntarily, a hiss escaped Olivia.
Connor shifted, and Olivia, panicked, said, “No, don’t look.”
“Is it bad?”he asked.Unlike Olivia, Connor was aware and unashamed of his squeamishness.He hated blood.Hated seeing anyone injured, but got especially triggered by his own blood.Except, for some reason, on the ice.
“Nope,” she lied.Swallowing the acid rising up her esophagus, she wiped the surrounding area with an alcohol-soaked cotton ball, then covered the incisions with fresh gauze.
“Hey, do you remember when I taught you how to ride a bike?”Connor asked.
