Damn that kid, making me watch out for him. It's the whole big brotherly
thing, and I really wish it would go away already. I did my duty. I stood up
for him. Why is he persisting with that whole little brother look everyday?
He looks at me like he needs me to brother him and then I can't get through
the day without that look popping up somewhere. By the end of the week, I
actually feel like I have to do something nice for him. Still, I can't wait
to get back to the office to see the look. Then at least I know I can keep an
eye on him. I don't like sitting here with nothing to do. I want to go back
to work, or even home. Lord knows, I'm not going to be able to do much typing
with this damn thing, but maybe I can make it through on painkillers and deal
with whatever it is after I handle the important stuff.

Sigh. I've got to relax. Just have to breathe. Ooh, that hurts. I need
those painkillers now. Why is it no one tells me things like this happen? I
could have scheduled around it. Ten o'clock, staff meeting; eleven o'clock:
meeting with Shane Cox; twelve fifteen: leave for lunch; twelve twenty: get
hit by car. I mean is that so hard? I could have gotten bandaged up and sent
back to the office by two where I could have coached the President through
the damn Forbes speech. Now he delivers in less than an hour and I'm stuck in
this damn hospital.

I admit it, I'd much rather see Josh's grinning face than these damn
walls. Leo with his grumps, Sam with his jumps, even trashing the President's
stupid little trivia questions would be more enjoyable than sitting here and
doing nothing. And CJ's little comments . . . CJ . . . anyway. What was I
sulking about? I don't even remember. I'm tired. I just want to go home, and
it seems I won't be able to. Not until tomorrow anyway.

Nurse, I want to use the phone again! Yes, I do! Nurse, if you do not
give me the phone, I will have this place demolished by the 82nd airborne
next chance I get and I will make *damn* sure it's on your shift. Don't look
at me like that. I need to talk to the president before he messes up. No, our
president doesn't mess up, ma'am. That's not what I meant. Hey, get back
here! I need the phone! Okay, I really hate hospitals. I guess this means if
you want something done, you've got to do it yourself. Okay, bad idea. Ow ow
ow ow. Bad idea. Maybe I'll just sit here. Yeah, maybe that will be good.

Josh. Sam. CJ. What are you guys doing here? No, I'm fine, I . . .
Shouldn't you guys be with the President? Watch it with me? You mean there's
a TV in here? Holy, cow, look at that. Hey, Sam, did you tell him about --
But did you mention -- Yeah, okay. Thanks, CJ. I *have* been thirsty, but the
nurses from hell don't like to listen to me. What do you mean, hard time,
Lyman? God, things feel normal. I'd never let them know it, but I'm glad
they're here. I guess friends really are worth something after all. Maybe I
can finally relax . . .

Sam, did you remember -- Okay, just wondering.