I wish I could tell you how lonely I am. How cold and harsh it is here. Everywhere there is conflict and unkindness. I think God has forsaken this place. I believe I have seen hell and it’s white, it’s snow-white.
"There’s still time. You should sleep."
Unresisting, he lies back down, but just stares at the needle on one of the dials as it twitches from side to side. Slowly, as I would with a wounded animal, my hand stretches out and brushes a wave of hair from his forehead. He freezes at my touch, but doesn’t recoil. So I continue to gently smooth back his hair. It’s the first time I have voluntarily touched him since the last arena.
"You’re still trying to protect me. Real or not real," he whispers.
“Real,” I answer. It seems to require more explanation.
"Because that’s what you and I do. Protect each other."
After a minute or so, he drifts off to sleep.
ignore your responsibilites and fantasize about older men
'‘Cause you and I both know damn well… You’re still in love with me.'
Killian Jones + being the reason of the hot climate in Neverland
While I was repairing the abdominal wall, a blood clot formed in the left ventricle.
I thought this was supposed to be routine surgery.
We thought it was out of the woods a few days ago, too. There’s no such thing as routine when you’re recovering from a gunshot to the abdomen
What happened with the clot?
Got wedged in his right subclavian artery. Obstructed the blood flow to his arm for about 30 minutes.
So, what’s the prognosis?
He might be fine…
Or, he may never regain full use of the limb. He is in recovery.