No one owns me

I don't know how the investigation is going, but I know I'm being no help. I feel useless, now that I'm stuck in this chair I feel helpless, too. Everyone else is still so... distant.

There are times when I can just picture his face. Just within details of knowing who he is. I can't quite figure it out.

I owe my life to Grissom. I don't know if he realizes how deeply in debt I am to him for saving me.

He was there. At the hospital. My attacker, I mean, but I guess Grissom was, too. I heard him. At least once. I don't know why he didn't finish the job.

-Brown

Well, guys, I guess I get to finally get out of this hospital today. It makes me happier than hell to know that I'm finally goig to get back to life. Any of ya gonna come see me walk- er, wheel out of here? I'd definitely like some company. 'Specially you, Cath.

I'll keep ya apprised as to when I leave. Also, news in the halls is Sara had her baby.

TITLE: The Woes of Physical Therapy
CHARACTERS: Warrick Brown, anyone who visits
RATING: PG13
SUMMARY: Warrick starts to build his arm strength, gets frustrated with the dead weight below his waist.
OPEN/CLOSED: Open
STATUS: incomplete

The doctors and surgeons who had been working on Warrick Brown have deemed it okay for him to have mobility in his neck and torso, so long has he doesn't overdo it. He's been given the necessary tools to start re-learning how to move now that he is without the use of his legs.

"You use this bar to pull yourself up," a nurse explained, pointing out a triangular piece of thick metal suspended above his bed, "and these bars here are to help you shift into the wheelchair."

"Could we not talk about the wheelchair?" Warrick asked in a pained voice. The nurse gave him a sad smile. "I'd rather not be reminded that I'm stuck with this thing."

"You'll have to get used to it eventually," she pointed out. Warrick shook his head slowly, wincing. He'd lost significant muscular tone in his neck when the bullet transected two of his posture muscles on either side. He missed the neck brace that had been taken from him. "Okay, this bar over here," she pointed to a device similar to the one hanging above his bed, "is meant to help you get back into the bed. There's similar ones in the bathroom. Now we don't expect you to be able to do all of this right away, so here's a bracelet with a button for the nurses' station, just hit it and someone will come help you."

"Will they all be as fine as you?" He asked, chuckling. He was glad Catherine wasn't there to hear that, she'd have smacked him, he was sure of it.

"Only if you find the rest of our nursing staff 'fine,' Mr. Brown."

"Please, call me Warrick, I'm sick of the formality around here," Warrick sighed. The nurse gently touched his shoulder.

( Read more... )

It's official, I'm paralyzed. That son of a bitch who shot me also robbed me of the use of my legs, possibly permanently. I have to do upper body work in order to be strong enough to use the wheelchair I'll be using from now on. It hurts. Not physically, emotionally.

I am glad that when I woke up the first person I saw was Cath. I love her. I wish it hadn't taken getting shot to admit it, but I love her.