Chapter Nine
‘In twenty-eight years of service, I’ve never seen muscular repair like this before,’ the hospital corpsman said.
Jay felt a slight pinch as the corpsman removed a stitch. ‘So I’m good to go?’
‘You shouldn’t be,’ she said. ‘But you are.’
‘Thanks, doc.’ Jay slipped his overalls back over his shoulders.
The corpsman was shaking her head, lips parted. ‘I don’t understand how … What drugs are you on?’
Jay listed them on his fingers. ‘Scotch, gin, beer—Italian preferably—tequila. Oh, and Polish vodka, homemade.’
‘Is there anything else I can help you with?’ she said. ‘Prescriptions?’
A few options came to mind but he pushed them aside. He wasn’t in his apartment with nothing better to do than drink and sleep. He felt renewed, fresh. He needed to do something else. Something
