Page 31 of Bean
Do you think we could meet again soon?
Let me check my work schedule and see what night works best for me. Want to text me your schedule?
Yeah. Thanks again for the lesson.
Any time, sweet thing. We’ll plan something soon.
I set my phone down and looked up at my brother who was grinning like the cat who got the cream. “Don’t,” I warned.
He folded his hands under his chin and his smile turned into a smirk. “I won’t. For now. But there’s a story here, and I want to hear it.”
There was a story here, but it wasn’t my place to tell. And I wasn’t sure there would be any kind of happily ever after when this was all through. It hurt in ways I wasn’t expecting, and I quickly shoved that aside. I’d gained too much freedom from my divorce to let something weigh me down again.
I was going to find balance, damn it. No matter what it took or what I had to do to get it.
CHAPTER NINE
BEAN
MRIs were not on anyone’s list of favorite things to do, including mine. They were noisy, and if you were claustrophobic in the slightest, they were an absolute nightmare. Lucky for me, that part didn’t bother me, and I was always outfitted with earplugs since my brain couldn’t handle that much noise. Still didn’t make them fun.
They were, however, a standard part of my treatment program, and I got one every three months so the doctors could check for progress…or deterioration. TBIs don’t always show up on a CT or MRI, but mine had from the start, probably because it was a bad one.
Initially, I’d had brain swelling, and I’d been kept in a coma for a week to allow my brain time to heal. Obviously, I couldn’t remember anything from those first weeks, but that wasn’t something I was upset about. I’d been in a lot of pain, apparently, and the doctors hadn’t been sure if I’d survive.
But I’d seen the scans of those first weeks and even an amateur could see things were not good. Big white spots on a brain scan were not a good sign. You didn’t need to be a doctor to figure that out.
They’d been able to stop that brain bleed, but the damage had been done. Parts of my brain would never recover—hence the TBI. But they kept a close eye on how my brain was improving, so another MRI scan it was. The good news was that we could plan the scan and the doctor’s visit on the same day since it was a bit of a drive to the TBI clinic.
This time, Nash had driven me, and we were sitting in the waiting room after I’d had my scan, waiting to be called in.
“You still want me to come in with you?” Nash asked softly. “It’s okay if you’ve changed your mind.”
“No, I want you there.”
“Okay.”
Nothing more was said until we were called in. We made our way into the treatment room, where Dr. Hanley was already waiting for me. She was my doctor at the specialized TBI center and we’d met often enough that I actually remembered and recognized her. Big whoop, right?
She immediately got up and shook my hand. “Bean. It’s good to see you.”
“You too, Doc. This is First Sergeant Nash Brockway. He was my first sergeant at the time of the accident.”
“We’ve met,” Dr. Hanley said as she shook Nash’s hand. “But it’s been a while. How’s civilian life treating you, Sergeant?”
“Can’t complain, Dr. Hanley. We’re all getting used to our new normal.”
She gestured for us to sit, and we did. “Tell me why you asked Staff Sergeant Brockway to accompany you, Bean.”
I loved that she always gave me agency, even when Nash would’ve been able to explain it much quicker. “Nash says I’ve been having more headaches, and according to my medical log, I have, but it’s hard for me to remember them or see a pattern. He offered to come with me and explain what he’s seen.”
“Okay, we’ll get to him in a minute. Tell me about the frequency.”
I checked my notebook. “At least one severe migraine every week, and multiple days with a light headache over the last eight weeks.”
She sighed. “I apologize for canceling your previous appointment a month ago. You know it’s the plan to see you once every month, but unfortunately, my father passed away suddenly.”
“I understand, Doc. And I’m sorry for your loss.”