Sheila reached out and took her son’s hand in hers as she searched the officer’s face for some sign of hope. Tears were pooling in her eyes as she thought about John and how desperate he must have felt to do something so drastic.
“I know that this is very difficult for you, Mrs. Ackerman. Can we give you and your son a ride to the hospital?” the first officer asked gently.
“Yes, please. We need to be with him.”
“Of course.” The man touched Tim on the shoulder and nodded toward the door. He helped his mother up, and the four of them walked out to the patrol car.
As they got into the backseat, Sheila’s head was spinning. Part of her wanted to know the extent of John’s injuries, and part of her wanted to run and hide. She felt so helpless and afraid. Then a thought came to her. She reached into her purse and pulled out her cell phone.
“Call Grandpa,” she said to Tim. “Tell him to pray.”
As they pulled out of the parking lot, Tim punched in his grandparents’ phone number.
Phil awoke with a start and reached for the phone. The reception was marginal, but he could hear enough to understand that it was Tim calling on Sheila’s cell phone.
“We found Dad, Grandpa. He was… and we are on our way … hospital,” Tim’s voice came and went as the connection cut on and off.
“What, Tim? Is your dad okay?”
“He’s in the hospital, Grandpa. Mom wants you to pray. I’ll ……… later.” The phone went dead. Phil tried calling back, but a recording said the user was out of range or had the phone turned off.
“What’s happening, Phil?” Joan asked as she sat up in bed. “Where was Tim calling from?”
“I don’t know, honey. The phone kept cutting out. But something is definitely wrong. John is in the hospital.”
“Why? What happened?” She reached out and put her hand on his shoulder.
“Tim was trying to tell me, but the connection was horrible. He said Sheila wants us to pray. I think he said he’d call us back later.”
“I wish we knew where they were,” Joan said, wringing her hands. “Sheila needs us, Phil. I want to be there with her.”
“I know. All we can do right now is wait to hear back. In the meantime, let’s pray.”
She scooted herself next to him on the edge of the bed. They held each other as Phil poured out a prayer, pleading with God to reach down and touch John and to be with Sheila and Tim.
John could hear beeping sounds. He felt very cold and could tell that his body was shaking. People were talking around him, but he could not open his eyes to see them. He realized that he was unable to speak.
“Blood pressure is 70 over 40. Pulse is 65.”
“The CT scan should be back. That will give us a better idea of the extent of the damage.”
“Are there any family members here?”
“Yes, his wife and son just arrived with the two officers.”
“Tell them I’ll be ready to meet with them in about ten minutes. Have them wait in my office.”
John wanted to call out to them, but his mouth only chattered with the shivers that wracked his body. Someone was putting blankets on him, but the cold was so deep in his bones that he felt like he was buried in a mountain of snow.
“This guy’s a goner. If we don’t get his temperature and blood pressure up, we’ll lose him.”
“Could be damage to the brain stem. Let’s try the heat lamps.”
“He probably won’t make it through the night. Dr. Jeffries usually recommends a ‘no code’ in these cases.”
“I’ll stay here with him. You go talk to the family and get them to Dr. Jeffries’ office.”
Michelle stirred softly in her sleep. She rolled over and glanced at the clock. It was one-thirty. Feeling restless, she gently slipped out of bed, hoping not to wake Steve.
The light of a full moon was streaming in through the window and bathing the room in a soft glow. She walked over to the window seat and sat down. Looking over the lake, she could see the water glistening peacefully.
As she gazed out, she was transported back in time and space to a cabin in the mountains of Southern California, where her family spent many weekends when she and Tim were little. She remembered one special Saturday evening when her grandfather took her for a moonlit walk by the water’s edge.
That night, as they both soaked in the beauty of the lake reflecting the giant yellow moon, her grandfather said, “Look at the wondrous painting God created for us tonight.” She’d stood in awe, imagining God up in heaven with a giant paintbrush, creating the beautiful scene before them.
I miss you, Grandpa, she whispered in her mind. Suddenly she felt very far away from her family. Thoughts of her mother and father began to stir inside. She hadn’t talked to her mother in several days, and she wondered if there was any news about her dad.
“Please, God, watch over my father,” she said softly. Then she smiled and shook her head, halfheartedly chastening herself for falling back on her childish ways of talking to God, as if he were some benevolent Father figure sitting on a throne in the heavens waiting to hear her requests.
Trevor had taught her that she had her own God-consciousness and she merely needed to look within for all the power of the universe. Still, he did admit that it was possible to tap into the “universal consciousness” of God in everyone and everything, so perhaps that was what she was doing with her prayer.
A few moments later, she felt someone’s eyes on her. She turned to see Steve propped up on his elbow, gazing at her thoughtfully.
“Are you okay, babe?” he asked quietly.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just felt restless and decided to sit here and drink in the view of the lake. It’s really beautiful with the full moon shining on it.”
He got out of bed and walked over to where she was sitting. Resting his hands on her shoulders, he looked out over the water. “You seem a little distant this weekend. Is everything okay?” he asked as he gently massaged her shoulders.
“I guess. It just seems like everything is changing in my life so fast. I love all that I’m learning and doing, but I miss my family and the ways things used to be.”
Steve didn’t know quite what to say. He loved Michelle so much that his heart ached. Had he been wrong to move her so far away from everything and everyone she knew? He thought about her grandparents. Their godly example always impressed him.
Maybe if they were back in California, Michelle would be sharing the same faith that he had come to embrace, rather than going off on these metaphysical tangents. Yet, if they had stayed in California, would he have found the truth? It seemed a divine appointment that he and Ben had ended up back together in the same distant town after all these years. Steve shook his head and sighed.
“What, Steve? What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing, Michelle. I was just thinking about how much I love you, and wishing that you could still be close to your family and friends.”
“I’m fine, honey. Really. I’ve made new friends, and I can always catch a plane and be with my family in a couple hours time. Besides, I’m really growing and stretching. That’s important, too.”
“I guess.”
They embraced for a moment and then Michelle surprised Steve by announcing, “I’m hungry! Are you up for a snack at that twenty-four-hour coffee shop we saw on the highway?”
“You’re crazy! At two in the morning, you want to go out for a snack?”
“Please,” Michelle begged.
“Okay, okay!” Steve replied, holding his hands up in a gesture of surrender.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
The nurse escorted Tim and Sheila to Dr. Jeffries’ office. They sat down in two chairs facing a large rosewood desk. Neither of them said much as they waited for information about John’s condition. Sheila seemed subdued. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her shoulders sagged under the tremendous weight. To fill the silence, Tim commented on the vast array of credentials with Dr. Jeffries’ name
on them displayed on the wall behind the desk.
“This guy’s been everywhere,” he started, gesturing to the framed accolades. “Look, Mom. U.S.C. Dad would be happy about that.”
Sheila nodded numbly. She managed to give him a weak smile and then reached over and patted his hand. “Did you get a hold of Michelle?” she asked.
“No. Still just voicemail. They’re probably out of range.”
A moment later, Dr. Jeffries entered the room carrying a folder and some films. He introduced himself and then sat down across from them.
“We’ve run some tests on your husband, Mrs. Ackerman. According to the CT scan, the bullet seems to have fragmented into several small pieces. The brain is a complex organ and, quite frankly, it is difficult to assess the extent of the damages in a case like this.
“From what we can see, it appears that the brain stem was not compromised, although there is some trauma to the other parts of the brain. This means that the basic life functions of respiration and circulation will probably stabilize over the next day or so, providing there is no further intracranial hemorrhaging.
“Because of the fragmentation of the bullet, we are dealing with an inoperable situation here. All we can do is to wait and observe your husband’s progress, and hope for the best.”
“What are his chances?” Sheila asked, focusing all of her attention directly on his large brown eyes.
“As I said, it’s difficult to tell. I’ve seen cases like this with some degree of recovery, and I’ve seen others where the patients never regain consciousness. Although researchers have mapped out the brain fairly well, and we can take educated guesses about the damage from the location of these fragments, the brain is different from any other organ in the human body. It has back-up mechanisms we are far from understanding.
“Perhaps you have heard of cases where someone has lost a portion of his brain function due to injury or stroke and then has been fully rehabilitated, through therapy, to resume all normal functioning. It is possible to train parts of the brain to compensate and take over for other damaged or destroyed parts. Let’s take a look at your husband’s films.”
Following his lead, they walked over to a light bar on the side wall of the office. Dr. Jeffries attached a series of images along the light.
“Do you see this small white shape here?” he asked, indicating a spot on one of the pictures. “This fragment is lodged in what we call the speech center. This portion of the brain allows thoughts to be translated into speech.
“Now, look at this next segment. Here we can see a smaller fragment has entered the cerebellum, which controls balance and muscle coordination. And then here,” he added pointing to a third image, “is a third sliver that is pressing against the hypothalamus, which regulates body temperature and appetite.
“This could help explain why your husband’s temperature is not stable, as evidenced by his shivering. However, shock alone will also produce those symptoms, so we have to wait and see if he will stabilize in that area.”
He waited a moment as if to let the information soak in. Then he asked, “Do you have any questions?”
“What are you doing for him right now?” Sheila asked.
“We are keeping him as comfortable as possible and trying to alleviate the swelling. He is in a coma. He could go either way at this point.”
The doctor escorted them back to their seats. Then he pulled up a side chair and sat facing them. “This is one of the most difficult part of my job, Mrs. Ackerman. But we need to make some important decisions here, and it is up to you and your family to make those decisions for your husband since he can’t speak for himself.”
She nodded and looked at Tim. He reached over and took her hand.
“Suicide is a terrible tragedy for any family to endure. It appears that your husband made the decision to take his life. Perhaps you know what brought him to that point. As an outsider, it is not my business to determine whether or not your husband had legitimate reasons to think his life should be terminated. The bottom line is that it appears to have been his wish.”
Tim squeezed his mom’s hand and gave her a tissue from the doctor’s desk.
“What are you saying, doctor?” she asked with a pleading look in her eyes.
“I’m saying that if your husband survives this trauma, he will have even more problems to deal with than he had going into it. The road to recovery from this type of injury is long and difficult. He may never fully recover his speech or the use of his limbs. It is possible he could remain in a nonresponsive state, semi-comatose, for years. I’ve seen families go through that. I don’t advise it.”
“What are you advising?” Tim asked.
“I’m advising we put your husband on what we call ‘no code’.”
“What does that mean?” Sheila asked, tears filling her eyes again.
“It means that we will let nature take its course. If your husband goes into cardiac or respiratory arrest, we would not resuscitate.”
Sheila and Tim grasped hands again. “What do you think?” she asked him.
“I don’t know, Mom.”
Sheila pulled her hand away and stood. She walked over and looked at the films from the scan. Turning toward the doctor, she asked, “Do you believe in God, Dr. Jeffries?”
He paused. “Let me answer that this way. I’m a man of science, but I’ve seen recoveries that no amount of science or medicine can explain. You might call them miracles. However, let’s consider this. If there is a God, and He really does perform miracles, He certainly doesn’t need our medical intervention to do that.”
Sheila’s brow was furrowed, and she seemed to be wrestling with what the doctor said. “I’d like some time to think about all of this,” she finally answered. “I need to talk to someone.”
“Would you like me to get the hospital chaplain?” the doctor asked.
“No. Thanks anyway. I want to talk to my father. He’s a retired pastor,” she answered.
Dr. Jeffries nodded.
“Can we see my dad?” Tim asked.
“By all means,” the doctor said, standing to his feet and gesturing toward the door. “I’ll take you to his room in the ICU.”
They proceeded down several long corridors that eventually opened into a hub of activity. The ICU had a wheel-like shape, with a round nursing station at the center and a myriad of rooms that rayed outward like spokes.
Each room had glass windows facing the station, and a multitude of machines beeped steadily, monitoring patients in various cubicles. The doctor took them to the nurses’ desk first and introduced them to the head nurse, Vivian Moore.
Vivian had a kind face, framed by a wreath of soft curls. Her compassionate spirit radiated from her large green eyes. Before taking them in to see John, she explained what they could expect.
“He is on several monitors right now, so there will be wires attached to his chest and his scalp. He has an IV with antibiotics and medication to reduce the swelling in his brain. Since he is unconscious and his eyes are closed, he’ll look like he’s asleep.”
She led them into his cubicle. Tim could see tears immediately began to roll down his mother’s face as she looked at her husband. He looked so cold and vulnerable there with all the wires, monitors, and IV lines. Where was the strong, intelligent man they both knew?
Vivian walked over to the side of his bed and put her face near his ear. In a rather peculiarly loud voice she said, “John, your wife and son are here to see you.”
A moan came from somewhere inside of him.
“That is the only response we’ve been able to get from him,” she said softly. “It’s important to keep talking to him. Hearing is often retained in comatose patients. Perhaps your voices will stimulate more responses.”
Vivian adjusted the sheets and blanket and then touched Sheila gently on the shoulder. She pointed to a young nurse, who was sitting in the corner of the cubicle by the foot of John’s bed. “This is Sherrene. She will be here throughout t
he night. I’ll be at the nurses’ station if you need me.” Then Vivian made eye contact with Sheila and added, “I’m praying for your husband.”
Sheila sighed and embraced her. “Thank you so much. I needed to hear that.”
After Vivian left the room, Sheila turned to Tim. “Go call Grandpa again. Tell him everything, and ask him to come. I need him here. And try Michelle again. Maybe a text will get through.”
“Okay. I’ll be back in a few minutes. Do you want me to bring you some coffee or something?”
“Coffee would be good. I’m not hungry, but I need something warm.”
As soon as Tim was gone, Sheila walked over and pulled a chair up next to her husband. She sat down and took his hand in hers.
“I love you, John,” was all she could manage before the tears started flowing again. There was no response on his face, but his thumb gently moved back and forth, caressing her hand.
“He’s moving his thumb,” she said to Sherrene.
“That could be a reflex, or he might be trying to tell you that he hears you,” she replied.
Sheila was trying to remain composed, but she couldn’t seem to hold back the flood of tears. Sherrene handed her a box of tissue. “Is there anything else I can get you?” she asked.
“No thanks. I just can’t believe this is happening,” she said between sniffles.
“I’m so sorry,” the nurse said softly, and then added, “Your son seems like a great guy.”
“Yes, he is. I don’t know what I’d do without him,” Sheila said, thinking about all they’d been through in the past few hours.
Tim walked in a few minutes later, carrying two cups of hot coffee. “I talked to Grandpa. He and Grandma are on their way. They said it would probably be the middle of the morning before they arrive. They’ve called the prayer chain at their church, and Grandpa says to tell you Jeremiah 29:11, whatever that means. He said you would know.”
Out of a Dream (Sandy Cove Series Book 1) Page 18
