Recoveries... a KnightWATCH story

Chapter 3

         “David? David, can you hear me?”

         David Longfellow groaned out a response that couldn’t be understood. Still coming out of the anesthesia, he was having trouble talking around the breathing tube in his mouth and throat.

         “David, I’m Hannah Rothschild. I’m going to --”

         David started thrashing around. His mind was reliving the accident, and in his terror he was trying anything he could to escape. Expecting this possibility, Hannah had brought a patient care tech with her when she went to wake him. They tried to hold David down to keep him ripping any sutures or stitches, or pulling out any tubes or IV lines.

         “David! DAVID! You’re safe!” Hannah shouted. “You’re in the Surgical Intensive Care Unit at Carrolton Memorial. Please, calm down.” She softened her voice and gently brushed her hand across David’s forehead. “You’re hurt, but you’re safe here. The accident’s over. Listen to me.” The change in voice had a calming effect on David. As he became more and more conscious, he stopped fighting.

         “Sweetie, you need to stay still. You’ve got several IVs in place, as well as a chest tube and a breathing tube. You suffered a collapsed lung on your right side. You need to stay still so you don’t rip any sutures or pull out any tubes.” David swam closer to consciousness. His eyes slowly opened, giving him a blurry view of his immediate world. At first, Melinda’s face swam out of the confusion in his eyes. Then his vision cleared and he saw Hannah: mid-50’s, red hair, glasses, and a pleasant but tired smile. David tried to moan out a comment, but the breathing tube made it gibberish.

         “David, I want you to try something. Flex the fingers of your right hand.” David moved them slowly at first, as though he were checking they were still there, and still under his control. Then he picked up the pace, moving them faster and faster. “Good, David. Now, with your index finger, trace out the letter ‘A’ on my hand... good, now a ‘P’... excellent.” Hannah kept doing this until David had gone through the alphabet several times. Next, she had him do simple words like “cat”, “doctor”, “house”, “nurse”, and so on. Then he started asking questions.

         “Okay, David, hold on. I want you to tap my hand twice between each word. Okay?” David gave her two taps to say yes. “Okay, go ahead... ‘h’... ‘o’... ‘w’... ‘how’... ‘j’... ‘i’... ‘m’... ‘Jim’... How is Jim? I don’t know, I haven’t heard of a Jim coming here. Who is he?” David balled his hand in a fist, the started spelling again. “Okay, David, who is Jim? ‘P’... ‘a’... ’r’... ‘t’... Partner?” David nodded yes. “Wait, are you an EMT or a paramedic?” David nodded yes again, and tapped Hannah’s hand once to indicate the first choice. “You’re an EMT, and Jim is your paramedic?” David nodded yes again. “Okay. I heard something earlier about your wreck. Were you and Jim coming here with a critical patient from another accident?” David confirmed that with another nod. “Okay. You were flown here. Your patient is down the hall in room eight. She's in very bad shape.” David’s hand balled up in a fist, which he pounded against the mattress.

         “David,” Hannah said as she grabbed his fist and held it down against the bed. “Her condition is not your fault.” As his eyes bored into Hannah, she stood her ground. “Did you run off the road? Did you try to get into an accident?” David shook his head “no” to each question. “Then it’s not our fault, David. Her condition wasn’t helped by your accident, but it wasn’t caused by it, either. She was also in a car accident, wasn’t she?” David nodded yes again, then traced the words “triage red” on Hannah’s hand. “That’s what hurt her so much, what has her listed in ‘grave’ condition right now. I’m sure you tried your best, David. Something else intervened.” He rested his hand a few minutes, closed his eyes and relaxed. Then he repeated his question about Jim.

         “I’m not sure, David. He may not even be here. I understand our ER had to go on diversion for a while, so he may have gone elsewhere.” David started tracing letters on her hand. “Next... closest... ‘v’... ’i’... ‘n’... wait, St. Vincent’s?” David nodded yes. “ ‘U’... ‘n’... ‘i’... university?” Another affirmative nod. “What about Kensington? ‘D’... ‘i’... ‘v’... Wait, they were diverting when you came here?” David again nodded yes. “Okay, if I can, I’ll check on St. Vincent’s and University.”

         David then spelled out more words on Hannah’s hand. “How bad are you doing? Okay, you noticed the tube in your mouth. You’ve suffered a collapsed lung on the right side, along with a flail chest to ribs three through nine.” David groaned, realizing he would be in the hospital for a while. Hannah had just told him that seven ribs on the right side of his chest had each been broken in two places and were “floating”, or moving out of synch with the rest of his ribcage.

         “Just because of the ribs and lungs, you’ll be in here and on the respirator for a week or more. Not to mention a chest tube to ensure you don’t have a tension pneumothorax on us. Then it’s off to a private room for at least another three weeks. We won’t be taking any chances with those injuries. Pneumonia can be rotten.” David nodded his head in agreement, then traced out the question “what else?”

         “You broke both bones in your left forearm. Were you driving with it when the accident occurred?” David ran his fingers up and down her hand to say yes. “It must have gotten in between your left ribs and the steering wheel, then. That arm is in a cast. And you’ve got both legs in positional stabilization. According to your chart, one crew worked on your chest while another worked on your legs. They put a rod in your right femur, and that’s permanent. They also had to put a rod in your left tibia. The left fibula and right tib and fib only needed to be aligned and immobilized. You also lost several units of blood, but those were transfused during surgery. In fact, the in-house blood bank will probably want to thank you. They’ve received a bunch of donations from off-duty crews since the word went out about your wreck. Supposedly they’re better stocked than they’ve been in weeks.”

         David then traced the word “organs” in Hannah’s hand, followed by a question mark. “Your left kidney was bruised, David. So was your gall bladder. They had to remove part of both your large and small intestine, and your spleen is gone. You spent quite a few hours on the table, David. But you’re here in ICU now.” David then traced the word “paper” on her hand.

         Hannah put a pen in his hand, then held up a notepad where he could see it. After lifting his hand, he sloppily wrote out, “How many parts left over?”

         “What do you mean, David?” David scribbled again. Hannah read the message and began chuckling. “You and my husband would get along well. He’d love this comment about shade-tree mechanics.” David had written, “any shade-tree mechanic will tell you, if you’ve got six to 12 parts left over, you’ve fixed the problem.”

         “Okay, David, I’m going to let you rest. I understand you’ve got quite a crowd waiting outside. A lot of your coworkers are in the waiting area wanting to know about you. You must be popular. I’ll let them know you’re awake.” As she tried to leave, David held onto her hand, then spelled out “chow hounds”.

         “Is that so? Will they eat almost anything?” David nodded yes. “Good.” David looked at her, confused. “We’ve needed new furniture out there for some time. If they eat it, that will force the replacement issue with administration.” Hannah walked out to the nurses’ station, where she called the unit receptionist outside.

* * *

         “People... please, people... please quiet down, I have something to say.” The receptionist could barely be heard over the din of noise from all the EMS crews. Claudia Morgan quietly closed the door to the waiting room, turned around and took a deep breath.

         “QUIIIEEET!” The talking slammed to a sudden halt. “We have some news here.”
         “Thanks. Now, you have to remain quiet. The patient you’ve been asking about, David Longfellow, is awake and coherent, but still a little groggy. Does he have any family here?”

         “Yeah,” chorused the three nearest people, all in uniform. “US!”

         “I mean blood relatives, you jerks.”

         Everyone in the room turned to glare at the receptionist. After several seconds of pin-drop silence, they returned to their various conversations. Connie MacKenzie approached the receptionist.

         “David has a sister in New Jersey. I understand she’s been contacted, but I don’t know how close they are.” Colleen Furman (née Longfellow) had always been distant from her family, but tried to stay close to David. She was the wife of a career Army NCO. Her parents, when alive, had always criticized her choices. This included getting married at a young age, and they had always considered her husband to be beneath them. Her other brother, Chester, had been of the same attitude. David was the lone holdout, looking past the first glimpse and giving Melchior Furman, Sergeant, USA, as least some benefit of the doubt. 10 years, two kids, and three promotions later, their marriage was going strong. The pity was that David’s parents and brother weren’t alive to be proven wrong, having died in an airliner crash outside of Pittsburgh. David and Colleen kept in touch by letter and phone on a semi-regular basis. They hadn’t seen each other in person, though, in over seven years.

         “Well, I hope she comes,” replied the receptionist. “I’ve been here too long, seen too many cases go sour. I’ve seen too many people not leave that unit alive --” Mac abruptly turned her back on the receptionist and plowed into the crowd, almost knocking down three people. The crowd looked at her, then at the receptionist, who gave an “I don’t know” shrug of her shoulders before leaving the room. Joel Palco walked over to check on his partner.

         “Joel, I can’t take her attitude anymore,” she replied when asked about her storm through the sea of crew people. “Her attitude... her f***ing defeatist attitude... it’s just too much. “

         “Connie, what attitude? What did she say?”

         “She started going on about how she’s been here too long. About how... how...” Connie started crying. “About how she’s seen too many people,” she sobbed, “die in that unit.” Joel wrapped Connie in a gentle hug.

         “Connie, don’t let that burnout get to you. We both know ICU cases are delicate at best. We also know this is the best ICU in the state. He’s in good hands.”

         “I have to see him, Joel. I have to know he’s conscious.”

         “Why Connie? Don’t give me any bull about professional follow-up, not this time. I’ve worked with you too long to accept that in David’s case.”

         “Damn it, I don’t know what I’m feeling. He’s a good man,” she blubbered, “a really good EMT. When the time comes, he’s going to be a good medic... if he gets the chance.”

         “That’s not all, Connie. Look at me. Look me in the eyes... and tell me you don’t care about him romantically.”

         “I... I...” Connie couldn’t bring her eyes to Joel’s. Tears streamed down her cheeks.

         “I thought so, Connie. It’s not the first time I’ve seen this regarding you and David Longfellow. I’m not going to quote you any rules; you know the anti-fraternization regulations as well as I do.”

         “Joel... I’m honestly not sure about my feelings. This has me churned up beyond belief.”

         “Care about him, Connie.” Joel lifted her chin with his left hand, bringing her eyes to his. “Care about him, pray for him, help him if he asks for your help. You can do all of that for him. But you can’t smother him with it, and you certainly can’t let it go to romance. Because that’s out of the question when he goes back to the street. And we both know that will be one of his goals.”

         “Yeah, I know. Joel, I need to get in and see him. Don’t ask me why.”

         “We’ll find a way, partner.”

         Joel and Connie had been overheard by several people close by. Without a word, three of them went off to badger the receptionist. Seeing they had blocked the receptionist’s view of the unit entrance, Connie walked up to and through the door. Inside, Hannah Rothschild motioned her to the nurses’ station.

         “You’re not allowed in here, dear.” Seeing the uniform, Hannah knew why Connie had walked in. “He’s in room five, and still a bit groggy. I can only give you a few minutes. If they didn’t tell you outside, he won’t be able to speak with you.”

         “But, his neck and throat weren't injured --”

         “That’s correct. But he’s on a ventilator for a collapsed lung, so he can’t talk. He can trace out letters with the fingers of his right hand, and he can write on a note pad if you hold it where he can see it. Also, his legs are in tension stabilizers. I’m just telling you this so you won’t be so shocked when you go in.”

         “Thank you, ma’am.” Connie walked to the door of his room, looked in, then looked away for a moment. Summoning up a reserve of courage she hadn’t known she had, Connie turned and strode to David’s right side. “David? David, can you hear me?”

         David opened his eyes. He reached up with his right hand, which Connie took in both of hers. Then he started tracing letters on Connie’s hand.

         “What am I doing here? What do you think I’m doing here, you goof ball? I’m checking up on you.” Connie’s voice began to crack. “I just needed to make sure... you were okay. We’re all thinking about you. There’s about 20 of us... out in the waiting room. Joel’s out there, and so is Claudia Morgan.” David traced out another question. “We’ve got folks watching over Jim, too. Don’t you... worry about him. You... you just... worry about... getting better.”

         Hannah Rothschild tiptoed into the room. “I’m sorry ma’am, but you’ll have to go. He needs to rest.”

         “Okay, ma’am. David, I’ll see you soon.” She squeezed his hand. “We’re all thinking of you. Anything you need... you just... call me... let me know.” She squeezed his hand again, then returned to the waiting room. Hannah came over and checked his vital signs and IVs.

         “Rest easy, David,” she said, resting a hand on his forehead. “Rest easy. You’re on the way back.” Hannah then went to her desk and made a phone call.

* * *

         “He’s awake, Joel.” Connie was leaning on her partner’s shoulder. “He’s awake, and alert... and so hurt...”

         “C’mon, Mac, let’s get you home. You need to get some rest. Hell, we all do. I’ll drive you home.”

         “But... my car...” Connie began to babble. The tension she felt over David’s condition had broken. So had the dam holding back all her concerns, letting her emotions pour out. Mac was so distraught she didn’t care or even know other people were around her.

         “We’ll get your car in the morning,” Joel told her. “Right now, you need sleep. Terrell, can you help us to my car?” Another medic came over and helped Joel half-walk, half-carry Connie to his minivan. It was a short, babble-filled drive to Connie's apartment. Connie found her keys, and Joel walked her all the way to the bedroom. There he pulled off her shoes, placed her under the covers of her bed, and walked out of the apartment, being sure to lock the door behind him. Joel drove home, slipped into bed and wrapped his arms around his fiancée, simply grateful to be alive.

* * *

         “... and then he tells me it’s going to be an Army wedding!”

         “And what’s so bad,” Angie Swanson asked Stephanie Berglund, “about an Army wedding? I’ve seen a lot of military officers get married wearing their dress uniforms.”

         “Well, doc, his idea of an ‘Army wedding’ didn’t include dress uniforms, or a tux for that matter. He said he was going to wear battle dress fatigues and combat boots! AND he was having MY dress made out of camouflage-pattern material!”

         “No freaking way!” Melinda Bradley laughed. “Was he out of his mind?”

         “No, hon, simply out to get my goat, which he did quite successfully.” The three women were in Stephanie’s living room, joking around after dinner. Stephanie shook her head ruefully as Melinda and Angie fell over laughing. “Ladies, you should know... Mike was damn lucky I didn’t have a bazooka to shove up his ass!”

         “Oh, man,” Melinda laughed. “That gives a whole new meaning to the phrase ‘Moon Shot’.”

         “Ohh,” Angie groaned. “That one was bad. Melinda honey,” she said, the Hispanic accent of her youth making a rare appearance, “don’t give up your day job!”

         “And I suppose you can do better, doc?” Drinking her fourth beer of the evening, Melinda was relaxing enough to banter back.

         “Well,” replied the stone-sober doctor, “I certainly couldn’t do any worse. Stephanie, how long have you and Mike been married?”

         “Next month will mark 20 adventure-filled years. Yeah, we married young and our parents were collectively pissed about it. Hell, my mother-in-law still can’t believe our first child arrived 13 moths after our wedding day. She’s convinced I was at least two months along when we said the vows! But we’ve had 20 years together, two wonderful children... I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Would you, Doc?”

         “I did, Stephanie. Or, to be honest, after seven years, my then-husband traded me in for a Vegas showgirl. Literally.”

         “You’re kidding!”

         “It’s the God’s honest truth, Melinda. He was an Air Force pilot stationed at Nellis, and I was doing my residency at Vegas Mercy. While I was working nights in the OR, he was performing operations of his own with a showgirl at Caesar's Palace. After finding out about it, I told him to choose one of us. He debated the issue for a very long time.” She took a sip of her Pepsi. “Three seconds later, he said she was the best sex he had ever had and he wasn’t about to lose it.”

         “God, what a prick,” Melinda mumbled.

         “Yes, that’s exactly where his thoughts were centered.” The three ladies laughed. “Over the next week, I moved into an apartment near Vegas Mercy. I also had a little commiseration chat...” A sly smile came to the doctor’s face.

         “Okay, Doc... why the smile?”

         “Because, Melinda... that chat was with his commanding officer’s wife.”

         “I’m not sure I understand.”

         “Well, the wives often stick together, just like the men do. Plus, the military has some very dim views on philandering. So when the commanding officer’s wife hears about something like this...”

         “Then there can be sweet revenge?”

         “Maybe not revenge, Melinda. But, it can grease the wheels of ironic justice... or military duty assignments.” Doctor Swanson took another sip of her Pepsi before continuing. “Mind you, I have no idea if my chat with the commanding officer’s wife had any effect on Todd Mersington’s career. But by an odd coincidence...” The doctor let the silence hang for several minutes.

         “Okay, okay,” Melinda said in exasperation, “you’ve got our attention! What happened to your ex?”

         “Quit teasing us doc,” Steph added, “and tell us what happened!”

         “Well... about two months after our divorce, Todd married his glitter girl. And two weeks after that... just after his honeymoon, in fact... he got transferred to Elmendorf.”

         “And where is Elmendorf?”

         “Somewhere in Alaska, Melinda. I think it’s outside Anchorage. I have no idea if his glitter girl moved up there with him. Anyway, after finishing my residency, I came back here. I grew up here, it’s my home. That was 16 years ago. 14 years ago, I met Steve Swanson. And 12 years ago, we enslaved each other into matrimony. Sure, we’ve had a few rough times, but it’s all worked out for the best... at least for me and Steve.”

         “Did you and your first husband have kids?”

         “No, Melinda. I found out early in my first marriage that I couldn’t have children. But Steve was a widower with a small daughter. Once she was ready to accept me, I considered her my own. We thought about adopting another child, but we had enough trouble being there for Julia. And now we have a nice, healthily-rebellious 16 year old.”

         “Well,” Melinda said, “I really don’t have a story to add to this. After all, I’ve never been married, I don’t have any kids...”

         “Yes, you do,” Stephanie rebutted. “You know full well and good that you have your own story, Melinda. Like I told you earlier, it’s been almost two years. Let Jeremy go, honey. Let him rest in peace.”