Fixing Good CYOA

[Corenat Rovarnus]

The accursed combo option wins.

Trying to move as little as possible, you reach into your pocket and take out the glittery pink cell phone Paul gave you. Miraculously it still seems functional after the collision, perhaps it’s a Nokia brand.

You manage to dial the three digits needed to contact emergency services, and the call goes through.
In between pained breaths you explain the situation, taking care to describe the car and how serious your injuries are, but leaving out any of the questionable context.

Once the operator confirms an ambulance is on the way, you hang up and dial Paul Hoodman’s number, which is no trouble as he had it stored on the phone’s speed dial.

You try to tell him how the car got away and you’re bleeding out on the ground, but another wave of pain goes through your body, slurring your words. It’s unclear how much gets through before the phone slips from your grasp and everything goes dark.

“Balt? Balter?! Baallteeeeer!!!!”

Later….

*beep* *beep* *beep*

You open your eyes to the light pastels of a hospital room.

The bed you’re lying on is raised at the head, giving a good view of the rest of your body.

Gone is your protective gear, your shirt and pants, even your underwear, replaced by a green gown and several white bandages. Your leg is in a cast, suspended in midair by a thick strap hanging from the ceiling. How ironic.

A plastic tube is attached to your wrist, feeding a clear liquid into your body from an IV bag hanging from a stand. On either side of the bed are various pieces of beige colored medical machinery, producing the beeps and boops that roused you to consciousness.

The door opens, and a brunette nurse pokes her head into the room. “Ah, you’re awake Mr. Black. How are you feeling?”

Mentally, you’re not doing so hot, but you report that your physical pain is a lot less than it was before.

“Good, that means the painkillers we administered are working. Welcome to Mercy Hospital, sir.” You know that to be the name of the public hospital in this town, and the nurse confirms that you were brought here by ambulance.

“You’ve suffered a concussion, internal and external bleeding, and a few broken bones. We’ve managed to stop the bleeding, but any vigorous motion might open your wounds so please try to avoid that. You’ll need to stay here overnight, possibly longer if the situation doesn’t improve.”

You look out the window to see the afternoon sky. Well, there’ll be plenty of time to lay down and stare at the sun now.

“Is there anyone you’d like me to contact at this time?” the nurse asks.

A. Yes, my wife and family.
B.etter Call Paul!
C.an you release me early? I can’t afford a hospital stay.