Chapter 3: Change
* Christine Plamer POV *
April 1 , 2016
8 Day pass , since that accidents happened. . .
Strange drive car on the road and then fell into the sea
His injuries on his body were full of bruises from the impact when the car skidded and hit the road railing and the force of falling into the water nearly 20 meters from the road at high speed
The muscles and bones throughout the body were slightly injured. The head had a bruise on the right eye that was not too serious. There was no effect on the vision of the eyes.
But the most worrying thing is that both his hands were crushed to the point of Broken into pieces!
The tendons, nerves, and muscles of his hands, even though the surgeons at Metro General Hospital did their best to operate and reconnect them, there was no way they would ever be healthy again.
The symptoms were so severe that even justdaily life, holding a cup of coffee in the morning, holding a newspaper to read in the morning, holding a knife and fork for lunch, holding a razor firmly keeping his hands still and not shaking... were almost impossible.
There was no way that the genius surgeon Stephen Strange would be able to hold a scalpel again!!
This injury was definitely something that hurt Stephen's feelings. He would probably lose his mind because he could no longer do what he did best in his life.
His fellow doctors, nurses, assistants, and staff at the hospital were all worried about who would come to inform him about this... because normally when working, Stephen would use words that were quite violent, sarcastic, and satirical to others anyway.
If he lost his mind, he would definitely swear and curse directly! like a swear word machine gun !!
Just working in a hospital where you have to take HIGH responsibility for people's lives is already stressful. No one wants to put their mental health on hold for the rampage of the (former) number 1 surgeon with a high ego.
The team has voted him as having the worst interpersonal skills here because he thinks he's better than others, has high ego and pride, but his skills are real. He can operate on difficult cases like a miracle, which has greatly improved the reputation of this hospital.
But now, those miracles have not come back to help Stephen, and the others in the hospital have chosen to avoid him and not bother him. They have asked me to tell him about this myself.
Because I'm the only one he talks to like normal people, and he's even asked me out on a date many times. You could say that I'm the only person in this hospital who is closest to him. As a result, today, which is my day off according to the hospital's shift schedule, I had to dress up to see him early this morning, which... happened to be April Fool's Day.
I definitely had to explain it at least 4 times before Stephen would know and understand his situation, that this is real, not a joke, not a lie!
And because I didn't know what to wear to break the bad news to the (former) No. 1 surgeon in New York, I chose to wear the autumn fashion outfit that I wore on a date with him last year again, which he had complimented me on,
"This outfit looks warm and comfortable." Maybe it would calm him down a bit... I hoped...
After getting ready, preparing myself, and preparing what to say, it was time to knock on the door of patient room 1014, where I heard a hoarse response almost immediately. At first, I thought I would have to wait outside the room for an hour, but it seemed that Stephen was recovering well, so he woke up at his usual time. He never woke up later than 8:30 on a day off or on a day he got to sleep. Now, he had been in bed for a week due to an accident that no one wanted to happen.
I opened the door and was shocked by what I saw... That Stephen was... crying!?
Even though there were no sobs, the stream of tears flowing down his bruised cheeks, which originated from his eyes looking at me, made me feel the pain. Torturing the body and mind of the man in front of me very well.
"Good morning, Christine... Your outfit looks like an autumn girl today, but isn't it already spring in New York?"
His greeting, which sounded intentionally teasing me in a funny way, made me feel a lump in my throat, because the important thing I had to tell him during this visit was a very cruel joke.
Even though his hands weren't disabled, there was a way to cure it so that could pick up a toothbrush and a hairbrush to clean himself body again, but the razor might have to be a good quality electric one that reduces the risk of using trembling hands to cut the skin, or picking up a knife to cut vegetables and fruits, must had to ask someone else or the maid to do it instead.
Not to mention going back to holding a scalpel... Almost 70% of the nerves were broken, even after the surgery and reconnecting, there was no way I could go back to holding the medical equipment in the operating room firmly again.
I took a deep breath before walking over to pull a chair to sit next to him and greeted him back in a voice that I tried to sound comfortable.
"Good morning, Stephen... How are you feeling?" Even though it was just a short greeting, for some reason... When I said it, it sounded like the tone I usually use to report bad surgery results to the patients' relatives. It was a tone of consolation, giving the listener a glimmer of hope, like the light from a small candle in the bottomless abyss.
"Well... there's some swelling all over my body, but it's better now" Stephen replied in a relaxed voice, trying to blink away the tears from his face. So I turned to grab two tissues from the bedside and walked closer to him.
"Do you want me to help you wipe your tears?"
"Please," he replied in a calm voice that surprised me quite a bit. Normally, he would be arrogant and proud of his genius surgeon status, not letting anyone interfere with his body. He had the feeling of... like someone with mild paranoia, not trusting anyone to touch his body. At first, I thought he would refuse with this or that excuse.
Many people in the hospital had gathered to gossip about Stephen, saying that he was afraid that if someone else touched his body, it would contaminate his PERFECT self. Until the surgical ability is reduced, which I think is a self-deprecating thought. I said on Stephen's behalf at that time,
"He just doesn't want to bother other people." But . . . now, when I walked into the hospital just now, the group of people who were gossiping about him at that time said to me in a half-sad, half-sarcastic voice,
"Now, everyone has to help wipe the blood, wipe the pus, wipe the body, and clean the wounds on Doctor Strange's body. Because now he doesn't have strong hands to do everything by himself anymore."
It's a painful truth, but there's no need to say it with a face and eyes mocking Stephen's fate like that, right?
I thought to myself when I wipe his tears. Then I turned around to throw the tissues in the trash before turning back to look at him, hesitating whether to talk about the main topic or to talk about something else first. But it was him who immediately got to the point of his hands, saying,
"My hands… probably can't hold the scalpel anymore?" The heavy question that would determine the fate of the surgeon was asked in a casual tone like asking what to eat for breakfast today. It made me unable to hold back my tears.
"Oh, oh, why are you crying?… Oh, I don't have any hands free to wipe your tears. I think you must help yourself first, Doctor Palmer. Hehe" He chuckled as he comforted me with a joke that was like… ... Ah...
I shook my head before grabbing a tissue to gently wipe away my tears. A strange thought popped into my head... Even though it was small, Stephen lying in front of me seemed to have changed something.