Once I had the ward to myself, apart from the sleeping patients, I unlocked the staff toilet and went in and took a look at myself. I found that I’d ripped my jeans where my shin had hit the rock. There was a serious looking cut there, deep and wide, as well as gravel abrasions, and I’d bled quite a lot. But it was already forming a dark crimson scar. It was still shiny and wet, but the bleeding had stopped. I wasn’t feeling any pain yet, because of the shock.
So I put my uniform on, and cleaned up the wound and applied bandages from the medical supplies in the nurse’s station. I limped for a few days afterwards, and I’ve still got a tiny dent in my right shin where I may have powdered or splintered a bit of my tibia. And that was that.
Fools are lucky. Drunks and babies too, but I wasn’t drunk or a baby.
As for the landing that’s coming up for me now, I don’t think it’ll be so easy. I love that girl, and I know that in a sense she still loves me. It’s just that she hasn’t got her mind on me right now.
I have to stay optimistic. I don’t want to protect myself. There’s still a chance that we can save us. She may still need me, when she remembers. (Does that sound bitter? It’s not so much. It’s just that she isn’t thinking about me or us. And she isn’t protecting herself emotionally either.) In the meantime, I still have the duties I took on as her master. I have to be there for her unless it’s clear that we’ve separated. So whatever happens, even the best outcomes, it’s going to hurt a lot. Well, it already does.