by
Mark 'Ponyboy' Peters
Chapter Forty-Five
'Our First Year'
There is nothing easy about getting over traumatic injuries, as anyone who has ever experienced or witnessed such an event will tell you. At some point in our lives almost everyone will have to live through such an event, whether being involved personally, or maybe even having a family member or friend go through the recovery process.
First off, there are the injuries that may occur, which in many cases may resolve themselves, given time and appropriate treatment. But of course, there are always those for whom the injuries may be longer lasting . . . and in some cases recovery may never come.
It can be what comes hand in hand with those injuries that is often more difficult to fix, however. The psychological side of the recovery process, undoing the damage that gets done inside a patient’s mind, or perhaps even reversing the effects of a dependency on painkillers. All these factors can come into play, and it can be a scary time for everyone concerned, while outcomes can be dependent on so many unknowns.
That is why I was so worried for Raffa during the six weeks that he ended up spending in hospital. So worried that there would be lasting effects, even if he did manage to come out of it fully recovered, at least in a physical sense.
I remember well those first weeks after his accident and the hours upon hours that I sat with him, along with all his family, trying to support him and encourage him, and at times console him. Tears and tantrums weren’t uncommon, especially those first few days while he was in the ICU, yet at other times, after he had stabilised and had been moved to another ward, he seemed to be at peace with what was going on around him, content to play the waiting game to see what was going to happen.
I also remember well the exact moment when things finally started to turn around. At this stage he was still in the ICU and I had made a habit of pulling one of his toes, or pulling the hairs on his legs, or giving his leg a pinch as I entered the room, in the hope that something, anything, might happen! If he was awake, he would simply watch me as I did the deed, then he would usually just give a shake of his head, or simply look away, his eyes and his heart filled with disappointment. If he was asleep, I would be hoping and praying that I was about to jolt him awake, as he would be shocked by a sudden sensation, but that seemed to never come.
What did happen, however, was when I arrived one day and performed one my usual acts, he just looked at me, his eyes wide open and an audible gasp coming from his lips.
‘What?’ I asked.
‘Do that again!’ he demanded.
Reaching out once again I pulled on one of his toes.
‘Holy shit! I can feel that!’ he loudly exclaimed, while at the same time he reached for the buzzer the nurses had left him with in case they were needed. I could now hear the buzzer going off out in the hallway at the nurses’ station, an incessant and annoying sound.
Eventually a stern looking nurse appeared at the doorway to his room.
‘This better be good,’ she said to him.
‘You need to find Doctor Chen,’ he said. ‘I can feel my legs!’
‘What?’
‘You heard me. Pinch me on the leg or something, and I’ll tell you.’
So she did just that, and Raffa let out an excited yell.
‘I’m back, baby! I’m getting out of here!’ he proclaimed.
‘Let’s just take it one step at a time, young man. Pun fully intended! We’ll see what Doctor Chen says when he gets here.’
I don’t think Raffa heard that, though. He was too busy hugging me and kissing me.
Doctor Chen eventually arrived and quickly began to assess Raffa, finding that he did indeed have feeling returning to both legs, though he was yet to show any reflex responses.
‘And what does that mean?’ Raffa asked.
‘It means that you’re not quite there yet, young man. But things are looking much better. It won’t be long before you are back on your feet . . . broken leg and other injuries aside.’
‘How long?’ Raffa enquired. ‘How much longer will I be stuck here in this dump?’
‘One day at a time, Rafael. I would expect at least another four weeks or so, but a lot can happen in that time, so let’s just work on making that time as short as we possibly can, shall we?’
‘Just tell me what I’ve gotta do!’
‘Oh, we will. You can count on that,’ the good doctor replied, before leaving us shortly afterwards.
Doctor Chen’s estimate was as close to the mark as you could get, with it being four weeks to the day before Raffa would be allowed to leave. During his rehabilitation period there were quite a few ups and downs, along with more tears and tantrums when he found things to be tough going. It was Chase who managed to help us put everything in perspective though, after coming across me sitting in a corridor one day, not sure what to do after Raffa had an outburst.
To be honest, I was really struggling at the time, but I wasn’t giving in by any means. I just needed some time to clear my head, while also allowing Raffa some time to cool down a little. When Chase found me, he sat down beside me and asked what was going on.
‘Our patient is having one of those days,’ I replied.
‘Oh yeah, that happens often enough with guys who get stuck in here for a while. He probably just needs a bit of a reality check.’
‘And how does that happen?’
‘Have they had him out of the bed and into a wheelchair yet?’
‘I don’t think so. And you haven’t answered my question yet.’
‘Just sit tight and leave it with me. I’ll see what I can arrange. Once he is out of the ICU and they have him a bit more mobile, we’ll organise to take him to see some people who are worse off than him . . . it’ll give him a wake-up call. Just don’t say anything just yet, okay?’
‘Okay, if that’s what you want. And what people?’
‘He’ll be fine, Gray. I’ve spoken with his nurses and everyone is all positive about the likely outcome for him, especially now that he has some feeling back in his legs. I think a visit to the kids’ ward will open his eyes . . . it often works miracles.’
So that was what happened, a week or so later, after Raffa had been moved out of the ICU and into his own room. He was given a trip in a wheelchair on the premise that they were going to physiotherapy. I wasn’t there, but Chase told me about it later. The orderly who was pushing the wheelchair said he needed to just pop into the children’s ward to deliver something on the way. Conveniently, Chase was already there, and while the orderly spoke with the nursing staff, that was when Chase spoke to Raffa, and introduced him to some of the kids in the ward.
There was a boy who received a spinal injury during a football game, only to be told he could never play the game again, because if he did, he would quite likely never walk again. There was a young cowboy, fourteen years old, whose pelvis was broken when the bull he was riding stomped on him after throwing him. There was a twelve-year-old girl, a cancer victim who lost a part of her leg, and who cried herself to sleep every night because her dream of being a dancer was now over.
There were also those who were never going to recover . . . who would never leave this hospital.
When they were finished the tears were rolling from Raffa’s eyes. Chase placed a hand on his shoulder to comfort him.
‘There is always someone worse off than us mate,’ Chase said, gently. That was all that needed to be said, and after that day, Raffa was a changed man.
* * *
During that very first week of Raffa being in hospital, straight after the accident, I had spent time with him every day, but after that time, from about when he had been moved from the ICU into another ward, I had to return to work. It had been hard not being able to spend as much time with him, but I still went to the hospital as often as I could; before work, during my lunch break, after work, as did his family and our friends.
Once back at work I had to quickly adjust and try not to dwell on Raffa and his plight. If this job was going to be what I ended up doing for the next few years at least, I needed to apply myself and put in an effort. For the first few days at least that proved somewhat difficult, with every second person wanting to know what had happened and how Raffa was doing. It was great knowing that they cared, but it was a little tiresome.
Mrs Mack asked about sending some flowers from the company, adding that she knew they weren’t allowed in the ICU but now that Raffa was in another ward she hoped it would be okay. I said that would be very nice, so she said, ‘Just leave it with me.’
Mrs Mack also made it a point to say that Raffa’s job would be waiting for him when he was ready to come back to work and asked me to make sure I passed that on to him. I promised that I would do that.
When I arrived at the hospital after work that afternoon there were three flower arrangements in Raffa’s room, one from our workplace and two others from friends of Raffa’s family. They certainly added some colour to what was otherwise, a dull and lifeless place. In the days that followed there were even more flowers added to the collection.
‘It’s so nice to know that people care,’ his mother said at one point. Nobody could argue with that.
As the days passed, Raffa was still experiencing quite a lot of pain, but at least he was upbeat about the improvement in his legs. With the help of a physiotherapist and some exercise the movement in his right leg improved to the point where he could even lift the leg slightly off the bed. As for his left leg, heavily bandaged and with pins protruding from it, that was another story. He was able to wriggle his toes only slightly, but that was to be expected given the injuries to that leg. Doctor Chen assured us that his broken left leg would respond better once the breaks had healed and Raffa could start some rehabilitation on that leg.
I was still concerned about his pain level, but even more concerned about what seemed to be an endless supply of pills being supplied for that pain. ‘What sort of effect could they have on him in the long term?’ I had quietly asked the doctor one day.
‘They can have a major effect if not properly managed,’ Doctor Chen replied. ‘There is always a risk of dependence, but we are monitoring Rafael carefully. If there is any indication of there being a problem, we will back off immediately.’
‘And what about alternatives?’ I asked.
‘There are some alternatives that can be prescribed, such as cannabis-based products, but let’s just see how things go as is, for now.’
I figured that would be an alternative Raffa might actually enjoy but refrained from saying that aloud. We already knew where we could get some cannabis-based products.
As the days and weeks passed Raffa was still mostly confined to his hospital room, but progress was being made. The visits to the physiotherapists, who had started taking him out of the room and down to their own ward, where they worked on getting him back on his feet made a massive difference to his state-of-mind. I didn’t get to witness these sessions, as I was usually working, but the reports I received were that it was ‘fucking painful’ and they were ‘total assholes’, but they did get the desired result.
Six weeks to the day after the accident, the day when Raffa had entered the hospital via the emergency department, he was pushed to the hospital entrance in a wheelchair and handed the set of crutches that would be his constant companion for some time to come yet.
With his family and friends surrounding him he refused to accept any help, eventually struggling to his feet, and leaning on the crutches.
‘You right, babe?’ I asked.
‘Yeah, I’ve got this,’ he said through gritted teeth. Then, on unsteady legs, but with steely determination, he hobbled through the doors and out into the sunshine, with me on one side and Leandro on the other, ready to catch him should he stumble.
He made it to the bottom of the wheelchair ramp, just as his father pulled up in their car, then between us all we managed to get him into the back seat for the short drive home.
* * *
Our families accepted these new arrangements and life moved on.
Following our antics in the hospital, where I had gladly been able to relieve his frustration on more than just the odd occasion, some adjustments had needed to be made to our bed habits, but we still had fun experimenting as we tried to figure out what worked for us, given Raffa’s injuries. With him still unable to match the physicality of our earlier endeavours we reverted to slow and steady, with intimate and gentle love making, exploring each other’s bodies, caressing every inch of each other. It took a few more weeks before he was ready to take on the role of being my favourite top once more, but when he was finally able to take that step there was nothing timid about it. The old Raffa was back and after the pounding my ass received, I definitely knew it!
Not to be outdone I figured if he was capable of giving out that kind of punishment then he would also now be capable of receiving it, so with a glint in my eye and a grin on my face I rolled him onto his back. Separating his legs, I lifted them to my shoulders.
‘You ready for this?’ I asked him.
‘I thought you’d never ask,’ he answered, as he reached for the lube on the small bedside table and handed it to me. ‘Please be gentle,’ he added with a smirk.
‘As if!’ I replied, before flipping the lid on the container and squeezing some of the cold, slimy liquid out onto my fingers.
Afterwards, we lay in bed covered in sweat, cum and lube, and trying to catch our breath. Raffa seemed quiet, which was a little unusual, as he was usually a vocal kind of lover, so I rolled onto my side and propped myself up onto one elbow.
‘Are you okay?’ I enquired.
He rolled his head sideways to look at me. ‘Never better,’ he replied, before leaning over and kissing me briefly. ‘But I am kind of sad.’
‘About what?’
‘Well, this probably means I’ll need to go back to work now . . . you know . . . seeing as I’m back to full health.’
‘Well, they have been asking about you,’ I quipped. ‘But I said you weren’t quite up for it yet. Seems things have changed now though. Maybe I better tell them you’ve got your mojo back and are rearing to go?’
‘I’ll hobble in and see Mrs Mack on Friday and see what she says. She might need a bit of time to adjust rosters or whatever.’
‘It’ll be good to have you back there with me,’ I said.
‘Yeah, it’ll be good to be doing something other than just sitting around.’
‘No more motorbike now though.’
‘Then I guess I’ll just have to use you as my chauffeur.’
‘I’ll be happy to oblige.’
* * *
And what about everything else that happened in that first year following Raffa’s accident, I hear you ask? Well, all I can say is “what a year that was!”
Obviously there had already been quite a lot happening prior to Raffa’s accident, which included not just all the shit that had been stirred up by Animal, along with my having been bashed, but there were also the changes that were taking place at our workplace, in addition to everything that was happening with my family and friends.
First and foremost there was my father and the issues that he was coming to terms with, after the incident of his having been molested by his employer as a teenager reared its ugly head. He had begun seeing a psychologist to help him work through those issues and from all reports he had made excellent progress. His acceptance of what had happened and that he hadn’t been at fault in any way finally saw that weight lifted from his shoulders. He also now had a greater understanding of not only his own feelings, but those of people like me, who were gay and dealing with issues of our own. He became the father I had always hoped he might be, and our relationship had never been stronger.
Then there was the emerging curiosity of my kid brother, Olly, whose fascination with ‘sex stuff’ as he always put it, knew no bounds. At times I was seriously concerned that he was going to become a total sex fiend, but whenever I answered his questions or discussed with him anything he wanted to know about he always seemed level-headed and, I think, just curious. Only time would tell just what sort of a young man he would grow into, but I promised him I loved him and would always be there for him, no matter what.
Of course, Uncle Bryan also had his own relationship to contend with, as he and our friend Chase fell further and further in love. Towards the end of that first year Chase ended up leaving his job at the local hospital and moved to the city to live with Bryan. We see them often enough and their relationship is a strong and loving one.
There were also our friends, Hoppy and Nathan, who had stood by us throughout the year, helping where needed and supporting us always. Their relationship seemed to be steady, although Nathan had confided in me that sometimes Hoppy would seem distant and put things on hold, but he always seemed to come back to Nathan. Personally, I thought there was a commitment issue on Hoppy’s part, which was confirmed one day when he was visiting us and we both had a chance to talk to him while Nathan wasn’t there.
We figured at the time that it would be difficult to know just where they might end up, but they were together and they were our friends, and that was all that mattered.
Within our families there was new joy on both sides in that first that year, with my sister, Meaghan, giving birth to a baby boy some five months after Raffa’s accident, whom they named Dylan. Shortly before that arrival Leandro and his wife, Beth, announced they were also expecting, so within a year of my moving in with Raffa there were two new additions to our family, and before long we were both doting uncles to two new baby boys, Dylan and Curtis.
Which brings us to the main event in that first year, the trial of Shane ‘Animal’ Williams, on numerous charges, including Dangerous Driving Occasioning Actual Bodily Harm, Inciting Violence and Sexual Assault.
Of course, the dumb fuck refused to save us all the trouble of having to endure his trial by pleading guilty, so we had to sit through most of it, once it finally did start. With delays and adjournments it took almost eight months from the day of Raffa’s accident before a verdict was finally handed down, not that we were in court for that whole time. It was only a day here and there, until we got to almost the end, when we were either required to be there, or felt we needed to be there.
With the various charges on the table, things did get complicated, but still weren’t as complicated as they could have been. The sexual assault charge didn’t relate to either Raffa or me, as they were brought on behalf of another person, a kid named Charlie, who had met Animal at a park and had been taken back to the motel room and subsequently raped. What this meant was that we didn’t have to give evidence specific to that case, although I was asked to testify to confirm that I’d had a similar encounter with Animal, apparently in order to establish a pattern of behaviour. No charges had been laid with relation to what had happened between Animal and me, or his encounter with Raffa for that matter, as all parties had been of legal age and were consenting, even if things had gotten out of hand. If charges had been laid for those encounters, then it could have become quite complicated for Mike, as he had been involved at the time and could have also been implicated.
Thankfully that was as far as things went on those charges though.
Next came the charges of Inciting Violence, relating to Animal’s engagement of two of his thugs to bash me. I had to give evidence in this, though I hadn’t been able to identify my attackers. The lead up to the attack was examined. Mike’s identification of the attackers and the link to Animal was confirmed, and everything went smoothly, or at least that was how the police said they saw it.
Once we got to the charges relating to the accident, however, more witnesses were called, including Raffa, Mike and me, along with several others who had seen Animal accelerate and hit Raffa and then try to speed away. Despite the best efforts of Animal’s defence team to portray this as simply an accident, the evidence was overwhelming.
Once the prosecution rested their case, the defence then had their closing, but to everyone in attendance, everything was a forgone conclusion. Three Not Guilty pleas from Animal quickly became three Guilty verdicts.
In the end he was given eight years in jail, with a non-parole period of five years. We all wished it had been more, but there wasn’t much we could do about that. All I knew was that when those five years were up, there was a good chance we might be looking over our shoulders, and that scared the hell out of me, because by then all I wanted was to be settled down with my man and enjoying life to the fullest.
Maybe if we’re lucky, Animal, with his winning personality, might piss somebody off in jail and not make it out at all.
I know that my involvement with him was what led to what happened with Animal, and I possibly should have been upset with him for that, but I simply couldn’t be. He stood by us, even though there was a risk he could have been dragged into those events, but I also learned a great deal from him, about myself and about other people. And Raffa feels the same way about him, even though they’d had their differences.
I would just like to be able to say thank you to him, but I guess that’s just the way things go sometimes. Life moves on, as do the people we know. Times change, and so do we.
For the moment, at the end of our first year together, Raffa and I are as happy as we have ever been. Life is good, but I’m sure that it can get even better.
To be continued . . .
Authors Note:
Hi there. It has been a while since I have posted anything new on Nifty. I guess life gets in the way sometimes.
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