Chapter Forty-Six

Jude awoke exhausted and groggy. Doctors came and spoke to him, and while he nodded and made affirmative noises, he took nothing in. Gradually, the haze of anesthesia receded, and his thoughts began to flow cogently. The realization that he had survived began to percolate through his mind, and with it a rising excitement that his body was too exhausted to express. The sun outside his window seemed very bright, the world beyond fresh and new as if replaced overnight. But the walls and windows of the hospital stood between him and that world. The bustle and background noise of the hospital, even beyond his room, seemed to wrap a further barrier between Jude and the outside.

For long months now, ever since the diagnosis, he had felt encased in invisible padding, packaged away from the world. Post-operation and still in said world, he felt the unseen insulation as an even keener imposition than ever before.

He tried to sit up within a few minutes of waking, but nausea accompanied the effort, and he had to lay still awhile. At length, he tried again and slowly succeeded in levering himself half upright. Not trusting himself to dare more so soon, Jude explored his environment as best he could.

The bed was a miniature landscape, he a giant atop and embedded within it. There was a drip in his arm, and he followed the tube by eye to the saline bag on its stand beside the bed. Other cables attached to his arm monitored his condition. Careful not to dislodge anything, Jude slithered over to look at the heart monitor and other devices beside the bed. Idly wondering if there was one of the famous painkiller dispensing switches he had heard tell off, Jude discovered yet more cables and intricacies draped down the side of the bed. One of them was a chunk handheld controller, with four buttons clearly labelled “up” and “down.” The device was on a springy coiled cord; Jude dragged it with him back to the center of the bed, and there experimented with one of the buttons.

With a slight jerk, the lower half of the bed began to rise. It lifted straight up, creating a low padded table beneath his calves. After a few moments staring at the ceiling with his feet elevated, Jude pressed the other button, and the bed dutifully lowered flat again. The other pair of buttons controlled the upper portion, supporting his body and head.

Jude entertained himself for a while, tilting himself upright and back down again, but soon settled on a semi-upright position from which he could survey the room.

He was in a small, private room with pale green and white walls. The color, he supposed, was meant to be clean and soothing, reminiscent of healing. The effect was rather opposite, emphasizing illness and emergency. Unsoothed by this observation, Jude grew restless and soon attempted again to stir from his bed. The effort was less costly this time, and when he could sit upright unaided by the bed, he risked turning to put his feet on the floor. He sat for a while thus, watching the hospital staff pass by his ajar door. No one looked in or ordered him back to bed, so he got up and wandered around the room to the length of his drip and heart monitor.

When still no one interceded, Jude took off the heart-monitor tab and explored the room more freely, towing his drip-stand behind him with one hand. Looking out the window, he saw the hospital grounds and garden. The sight evoked a strong desire to be out of the hospital and back in the world, living his life. He settled for quitting the room and exploring the hospital, dragging his drip-stand behind him.

Before, he had paid little heed to the layout of the place, attending his appointments in a disassociated state of mind. Now he was confronted by the mazelike interior and bustling human traffic of the hospital.

Jude picked the colored line to his own department and followed that outward to a corridor junction where multiple lines crossed. Accurately surmising that asking directions would see him only sent back to his room, he actively avoided the attention of the adults passing by. Studying the signs at the junction, he picked another line and soon found his way to the elevators. He knew the private suites were on the top floor from simply paying attention and upon arrival wandered about looking in rooms until he found Soonja.

She smiled broadly when she saw him.

“Well, you’re up earlier than expected. And fit enough to find your way here unaided, which is more than Owen or Olivia managed.”

“How do you know I didn’t have any help?” Jude asked, coming into the room.

“Anyone you asked would only send you back to bed,” Soonja replied. “I’ve tested this myself, trying to get out to the gardens. Come sit by me.”

Jude sat in the chair beside Soonja’s bed, bringing the drip with him.

“Careful we don’t get them confused,” Soonja remarked, indicating her own collection of medical devices beside the bed.

“I thought your hip was broken?” Jude asked. “How would you get outside on your own?”

“Fractured, not broken, which the doctor’s tell me is a meaningless distinction, but anyway... I would get there by being a stubborn old lady who regards her body as an old but reliable car; I know every duff note of the engine and every crunch of the gears, and merely having what amounts to a flat tire is not sufficient to keep me off the road.”

Jude laughed. “A car can’t drive on a flat, though.”

“The doctors keep telling me the same. Whatever happened to the customer being always right?”

There was a knock at the door, and a male nurse looked in. Seeing Jude, he asked, “And who is this?”

“My grandson,” Soonja snapped. “And he’s just fine right here, thank you.”

“Fair enough, Mrs. K.” The nurse smiled at her icy tone and withdrew.

“Grandson?” Jude asked.

Soonja only shrugged. “That’ll be the painkillers talking again. Who knew morphine was a truth-serum? I had to tell Owen off for taking advantage, though perhaps my unfiltered advice proved helpful. Now, how are you feeling?”

She quizzed him in detail on his condition and mood, as if satisfying herself that the doctors had done their job satisfactorily.

This gentle interrogation was interrupted by Olivia’s arrival. She was half-frantic, having gone first to Jude’s room only to find him gone.

“Don’t fuss the boy,” Soonja chided, before Olivia could gather full steam in her anxiety. “He’s better than he’s been since I’ve known him, has to be, by definition.”

Olivia rolled her eyes, and Soonja thumbed her painkiller switch vindictively in unspoken response.

“Are you all right?” Jude asked Olivia. “You look pale.”

“Not really,” she admitted, “I threw up twice this morning.”

Soonja nodded knowingly, saying nothing.

“Perhaps you should be in hospital as well?” Jude asked cheekily.

“Who needs to be in the hospital?”

Everyone turned to find Owen standing at the door. “I think we have enough people in here already,” he joked. He moved closer to Soonja’s bed and leaned in to give a kiss to his grandmother.

“How are you feeling today, Nana?”

Soonja squinted her eyes. “I’ve told you a thousand times not to call me that.”

Jude laughed. “Can I still call you Granny K?”

Soonja looked at the boy lovingly. “Oh, of course, you can call me that. You are my grandson, after all.”

“He is?” Owen questioned.

“Well, he soon will be if you don’t mess things up again,” Soonja replied.

“Nana!”

Soonja wagged a finger at him, ready to scold him again, but before she had the chance, Olivia grabbed Owen’s arm and pulled him away from the bed.

“I think it’s time for us to go for a walk and stop upsetting Soonja, Owen.” With that, she guided him out of the room.