A Loss of Pride by Mabel Marsters

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Chapter 16: A Set Back

The next few days passed by and Spike continued to make steady progress. Each day Brad could detect a little more movement. To Spike’s relief Angel hadn’t mentioned Buffy again. She was most probably back in Rome by now anyway.

He’d woken earlier than he normally did but couldn’t get back to sleep so he decided to get a shower and get dressed. He put his hands on to the wheelchair to get out of the shower and realised too late that he hadn’t engaged the brake properly. He’d leaned over too far to be able to get back onto the bench in the cubicle. The chair slipped backwards and Spike fell, hitting the side of his head on its footrest. He slumped unconscious, to the ground.

Spike came to about a half hour later, cold and shivering on the tiled floor. He pushed himself up with his hands, crying out as pain ripped through his back, forcing him to stop. He lay there for a second, trying to think what he could do. His feet were still in the shower cubicle and his body was at an angle to them, as he lay on one side. His head throbbed, and exploration with his fingers let him know that he was already in possession of a pretty impressive black eye.

He tried to move again, but once more was stopped short by the pain. Tears of frustration pricked at his eyes. He was going to have to call for help. His hand went to the buzzer that he wore around his neck.

“Soddin’ hell,” he muttered as he remembered that he’d taken it off and hooked it on his chair when he got in the shower. The wheelchair was now back against the far wall and the buzzer was hanging there out of reach. Depending on how long he’d been unconscious, he knew that his first visit by the nurses had been two hours away when he’d got out of bed. He tried to move again, hoping to be able to pull himself along to reach the buzzer but it just hurt too much. He slammed his fist against the floor in despair.

He was shivering uncontrollably by the time he heard the rap on the door and it swinging open.

“Mr. Williams? Up already?”

“Fucking hell. Tina, it had to be her, didn’t it?”

“Are you in the bathroom, Mr. Williams?” said Tina, at its door.

“No, I’ve gone for a bleeding jog round the gardens.”

He gritted his teeth and called for help, dismayed at how weak his voice sounded. She opened the door. None of the bathrooms at Rosedene had locks on them, and now Spike knew why.

“My goodness,” she exclaimed, “Are you all right?”

“What do you think?” Was the most civilised reply that he could muster. “I’m laying bollock naked on the floor. ‘Course I’m not all right!”

She walked towards him. “No, I mean, are you hurt anywhere?”

“My back. Every time I move it really hurts.”

“Let me see if I can help you up.” She put her hands under Spike’s arms.

“No!” cried Spike, “Don’t, please.” He was terrified that he’d done serious damage and that moving it would make it even worse. “Just get the doctor, okay?”

“Okay,” said Tina.

She silently cursed at herself for nearly doing something so stupid, but she just always felt such an idiot around Spike. He was so attractive and she felt like a silly schoolgirl with a crush when she was near him. She reached over and grabbed a couple of towels, covering Spike with one and using the other as a pillow. Then she went to the other room and telephoned for help.

Within minutes the doctor was there along with two male nurses. Tina gratefully fled the scene. “Stupid woman,” she admonished herself.

“Now then, Spike, I need you to tell me where it hurts before we move you, okay?” said Daniel, the doctor.

“Yeah, it’s the left side of my back. When I try to move it just sort of spasms and hurts like hell.”

Daniel felt along his body assessing what he found.

“From what you describe happened I think it’s most likely that you’ve pulled some muscles in your back, but we’ll be cautious and get you x-rayed. We have the facility to do it here. I’m just going to give you a little something for the pain and to relax the muscles.”

Spike nodded and the team went to work on him.

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By the time that Spike was back in his own bed he was thoroughly fed up of being prodded and poked. He felt nauseous with the concussion he’d suffered and even breathing seemed to hurt. There were no breaks but he had strained the muscles in the left side of his back. He had to lie flat in bed for the next few days.

Brad called in to see him as soon as he could. “Hey, had a bit of a busy morning, so I hear?” He sat next to the bed.

“Yeah, it was my own stupid fault and I’ve screwed up my legs,” he replied, his voice catching a little as he spoke.

“What do you mean? You’ve strained your back.”

“But I can’t move my legs like I did yesterday. They’re worse again,” he said dispiritedly.

“Spike, if I pulled my back, I wouldn’t be able to move my legs properly. They’ll be fine. Back to how they were or even better once your back has settled down,” reassured Brad, not liking how depressed Spike sounded.

“Suppose,” he muttered.

“That’s one hell of a shiner you’ve got there,” said Brad.

“Yeah, I hit the sodding chair, didn’t I?” he said, wincing as he touched it gingerly. “Can you do me a favour, mate, and tell Angel not to come for a few days? I hate laying flat and he’s so soddin’ tall that it freaks me out having him peering down at me.”

Brad smiled at him. “He is stupidly tall, isn’t he? Sure, I’ll let him know if you’re certain that you don’t want his company. Can I get you anything before I go?” Spike shook his head. “I’ll pop in later to see you, okay?”

“Yeah mate, that’s okay,” said Spike.

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Spike spent the day feeling more and more depressed. He’d pretended to be asleep when Brad came back to see him. By the evening he’d decided what he was going to do. The nurse came in with his last dose of meds. She put his pills on the side of the table before helping him to use the bedpan. Spike took the meds whilst she was washing her hands in the bathroom. He glanced down at the two blue pills in his hand after she’d left. He figured that by the end of the week, if he saved all of the sleeping pills and most of his increased pain medication that he should be able to put an end to it once and for all. He could wash them down with the remainder of the Jack Daniels in the hip flask. Now that he’d made the decision he felt calm. He’d tried and he’d failed and now it was time to rest.

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