I lay in bed in a depressed state long after the fiasco with Emily, wishing I could take it all back. I thought several times about calling her, but my pride got in the way. Surely she didn't want to see me.

At about three o'clock in the afternoon there was a soft knock at my door. I turned toward the sound and was surprised to see Steve Bates stride in.

"Good afternoon, Miss Smith." He crossed over to me, pulling out his stethoscope. "How have you been feeling?"

I shrugged.

He checked something on the monitor beside my bed and wrote a note on the clipboard he was carrying. "I'm here to do a couple tests then I'll let you get back to resting."

Steve had me lean forward. As he checked my breathing he attempted small talk.

"How have things been going at the studio? Are you liking your role?"

I gave vague responses to both questions.

"Emily says you're doing great! You're a regular acting prodigy."

I felt another twinge of remorse at the mention of Emily's name.

"Tell her I'm sorry," I found myself whispering. "I didn't mean to go all psycho. I just...I don't know"

He nodded. "I heard about your unhappy reunion earlier. Don't worry about it. Emily understands."

A sudden thought struck me. I still had no idea what had happened to me in the three days I had been in the hospital. My throat was killing me. I gradually became aware of something around my leg. I looked down and saw a bulge under the blankets.

"Doctor Bates, what happened to me?"

He sat down at the end of my bed. "You had a broken leg, multiple severe lacerations, and a left-sided pneumothorax. That is a fancy way of saying you had really deep cuts and your left lung collapsed. You had to have a lot of stitches and we had to put in a chest tube."

"What?" I cried, not at all expecting this information. "My lung collapsed? How was I able to breathe? And what's a chest tube?"

"Well, that's why you don't remember any of it. You were in so much pain and having such a difficult time breathing that we needed to sedate you and use a machine to breathe for you.

"A chest tube is a big tube that has one end inside your chest cavity and the other end hooked up to suction, kind of like a vacuum cleaner. You see, normally your chest cavity is filled with your lung which is in turn filled with air. There shouldn't be any air outside of your lung, which is why it stays inflated like a balloon. But when the lung collapses the air accumulates outside the lung. There is so much air outside that it pushes on the lung and keeps it from being able to reinflate."

I stared at him, unable to process this information.

"But you're doing much better now," Steve told me quickly. "Your lung has completely reinflated and you are off the ventilator machine. Your wounds are healing nicely and the stitches can come out in about a week. In fact, you are doing so well that you can probably be moved out of the Intensive Care Unit tomorrow. We've just been waiting for the sedation to completely wear off so you would wake up."

"Then why do I still feel so yucky?" The pain in my throat was now so bad I could hardly stand to talk.

"Well, you were hit by a car and you had a machine breathing for you until just a few hours ago. Your throat will probably be a little sore for a few days and the sedation and pain medications can make you feel a little woozy. Unfortunately, as it wears off you may still be in quite a bit of pain. Make sure you let your nurse know if it gets too bad."

I must have had a scared look on my face for he added, "Don't worry, it's not like you're going to get addicted to the pain medications. As long as you only take them when you are having significant pain and you take them less and less as the days go on you should be back to normal in no time."

I nodded slowly. "So I'm okay?"

Steve smiled. "Tip top shape."

"What should I do about my throat?"

"It won't take long to heal," he replied. "Emily usually notices significant improvement in just a couple of days."

"Emily's been intubated before?"

Steve nodded, his eyes losing their warmth for the first time. "Once or twice a year her lungs just grow too weak to support themselves. She'll be in the ICU a week or two, but she always ends up okay," he finished quickly.

"That's terrible."

He smiled again, more tightly this time, and stood up. "Is there anything I can do for you before I leave?"

I shook my head. He crossed to the door. Upon reaching it, he looked back.

"I'm glad you're okay, Rosie."

"Thanks," I said.