Decision Time Read Free

you’re awake now.” My dad had risen to his feet and was now hovering above me. I tried to speak.
    â€œNo, no, no. Don’t try to talk yet.” Dad waved his hand as he tried to stop me from communicating, but I wouldn’t. I needed water very badly. “Wesley.” He caught my gaze and I tried as hard as I could to speak.
    â€œWater,” I strained my voice to say the word. My father held up his finger, which I interpreted as “wait a moment.”
    â€œLet me get something for you to write on.” Dad stepped away and returned a brief period later with a pen and a pad.
    â€œI know it’s going to be difficult for you to write with your left hand, but write as best as you can.” He placed the writing pad beneath my hand and gave me a pen to scribble with. I tried to write the letter W with my left hand, but it wasn’t going so well.
    â€œIt’s okay. Keep going. I think that’s the letter U .” My dad tried to decode my squiggle. I moved my hand back and forth vigorously across the page to scratch out the letter and tried writing again. When I was finished, my dad held up the piece of paper and tried to decipher my scrabbling.
    â€œLet’s see…that’s a W and that’s a T . I’m having a hard time making out the other letters, Wesley.”
    Come on, Dad , I thought to myself. Work with me here. Don’t get stupid on me now .
    â€œWait a minute. I think that’s the letter A .” Dad paused in thought and then repeated the letters.
    â€œWTA.” He looked at the page very perplexed as if he was trying to figure out a puzzle on Wheel of Fortune . “Water! You want some water, Wesley?” he asked.
    I nodded my head. I almost wanted to say, “Duh!” But I didn’t.
    â€œOh, no problem. I’ll get some for you.” He rushed out of the room, calling for the nurse. A short time later a doctor entered.
    â€œWesley, I’m Dr. Murphy, the surgeon who worked on you.” Dr. Murphy appeared to be in his mid-fifties. He had a mixture of salt-and-pepper hair and eyelids that sloped downward, as if weather-beaten into saggy folds of skin by one too many hours of suntanning.
    â€œI’ve asked your dad to sit outside in the waiting room with your grandmother while I examine your wound.” Wound? I thought. Jesus, what happened to me?
    â€œNow, Wesley, you may feel a burning or stinging sensation.” I nodded as I braced myself for the pain.
    â€œOkay, here we go.”
    â€œAguuuh!” I tried to howl, but my voice couldn’t produce the kind of painful moan I needed it to.
    â€œYou’re one lucky guy, Wesley,” Dr. Murphy explained as he continued examining me. I tried to speak again, but it hurt like hell.
    â€œDon’t talk just yet. I’ll give you some water in a moment. When I do, you need to sip it—don’t gulp because that’s not going to feel good at all if you guzzle it.” After he was done, a nurse came in and sat a plastic pitcher ofwater and cups by my nightstand. I was glad to see her. I did as the doctor suggested and sipped the water slowly. My first sip was like pouring water on cracked, dry soil.
    â€œI’m going to go get your family. I’ll be right back,” Dr. Murphy said before exiting the room. I drank more water, which caused my stomach to grumble. I suddenly felt as if I was going to puke. I did my best to control the urge, but it wasn’t easy.
    Before long, Dr. Murphy returned with my dad and Grandmother Lorraine.
    â€œOh, I’m so happy to see you.” My grandmother rushed over and kissed me on the forehead. Her lips felt like rose petals. I hugged her with my left arm and held on to her for a moment. When she finally pulled away, I noticed she was wearing a brown blouse with a matching headband. Grandmother Lorraine had blond dreadlocks that cascaded down her back. She was wearing her glasses, which had slid