Trapped

by Lawrence Gold

  “I understand,” Mike said. “I must get back to Amanda. I’ll let you know the moment that anything changes.”

  Mike returned to the incubator. “Anything new?”

  “No,” Lisa said. “She looks so sick. She’s fighting so hard to live—it breaks my heart.”

  Mike picked up the phone, and dialed his office. “Cancel my office appointments for the day. I’m staying here with a sick baby. Get Dr. Dillard to cover my patients.”

  Mike and Lisa worked together through the day. Caring for Amanda was like stepping on a newly frozen lake, listening for the first cracks of the ice, foretelling a fall into the freezing waters. Lisa stayed one-on-one with Amanda, and continued her routine chores in caring for the baby. Mike tried to keep out of her way, but felt a tingling warmth whenever they accidentally touched. Mike never left the side of the incubator, except for a restroom break, and to get a snack. He continually adjusted the intravenous fluids, blood pressure support medications, and worked with the respiratory therapist to maximize the effectiveness of the ventilator.

  “It’s near the end of your shift, Lisa. I appreciate your help. You’ve been great.”

  Lisa reddened. “Thanks, Mike. It’s been an experience.”

  Just then, the intercom sounded, “Lisa Cooke, line three.”

  Lisa picked up the phone, listened, and then said a few words. When she returned to the incubator, she said, “You’re stuck with me for another eight hours. I have to do a double.”

  As they continued to work together, Mike took the opportunity to watch Lisa. Except for periods of extreme stress or intense concentration, she always wore a smile. Seeing that smile made him smile, too.

  This is someone special, he thought…maybe we should…

  She interrupted his fantasy. “Amanda’s breathing more easily, now. Her temp’s down.”

  Mike examined the baby, again. “I agree. The worst may be over. I’m going to talk with Ted and Karen,” he hesitated…and then, if you have the strength, maybe we can get that drink after you finish your shift.”

  She smiled at him. “I might have enough energy left for that.”

  Chapter Eight

  Lisa and Mike walked into Barney’s Pub only two blocks from Brier Hospital. The place functioned as the local watering hole, with its limited menu of fast foods and snacks. The crowded room buzzed with conversation and laughter, and smelled of French fries, nachos, and beer.

  They were hungry, and dove into the warm nachos and ice-cold beer, while waiting to order.

  Mike watched as Lisa’s auburn hair gracefully brushed against her shoulders.

  She caught him staring, and smiled. “You look tired.”

  “That’s the way I’ve been, lately. Good fortune can make the on-call schedule tolerable, but my luck’s been all bad.”

  That is, until I met you, he thought.

  “Maybe,” she smiled again, and then winked. “Your luck is about to change.”

  Mike laughed.

  It had been a tough day from early in the morning, until now. He’d worked his ass off, Amanda Kramer looked better, and here he sat with a beautiful woman, with the promise of things to come.

  “You were great today,” she said. “We work well together. It helped through all the stress.”

  “I was great? You were fantastic.”

  She blushed. “The way you stayed with that baby, never giving up…dedicating all your time to that one little child…”

  “Anyone would have done that.”

  “I don’t think so,” she said, smiling and staring into his eyes. “Even though I’ve only been at this for a short time, it’s difficult to avoid the cynicism that can creep into some of us. I feel great because Amanda’s doing well, but it’s more than that. Even in training, while nurses and physicians go through the right steps, fulfilling their responsibilities, many do it almost by rote. But you do it with passion. I’m a sucker for passion.”

  The waiter arrived, and they ordered. “Would you like a refill on those beers?” he asked.

  “No thanks,” Mike said. “I’m still on call until six a.m. You go ahead, Lisa.”

  “After a double shift, one is enough for me.”

  “Where do you come from, Lisa?”

  “Heaven…couldn’t you tell?”

  “Now that you mention it…”

  “I grew up in Nevada City, and then went to school in Chico.”

  “I love Nevada City, and Grass Valley. It’s beautiful in the Sierras. I almost took a position at Sierra Nevada Memorial, but the Brier opportunity was too good a professional opportunity. Do your folks still live in the area?”

  “My mom and dad still live on what was once a ranch. My father’s disabled, and Mom takes care of him. It’s a long story.” She paused. “I’ll tell you more when we get to know each other better.”

  Lisa stared at him, and smiled again. “Let me guess…you grew up with women.”

  “A mother and three older sisters. How did you know?”

  “You really like women, and it shows.”

  “Of course I like women…”

  “No, that’s not what I mean. You’re comfortable with women, so at ease. It makes them feel good to work with you.”

  “Them?”

  She smiled. “Them, and me, too.”

  “When I declined your offer for a drink, it wasn’t because I didn’t want to, it was…”

  “I’ll admit it…you surprised me. I don’t often make such offers,” she said, teasing her hair and batting her eyelashes. She paused and looked up into his eyes. “And you’re the first to turn me down.”

  Mike laughed again. She’s playing me to perfection.

  “I’m the medical director of the NICU. Women work for me. In this world of sexual harassment litigation, I worry that people may misconstrue friendliness for something else.”

  “I’m not misconstruing anything,” she said, smiling, and reaching for his hand.

  He started to pull away, but relented. “Listen,” he said, “I really like you. I feel this may be going somewhere, but romance is a tricky business, especially in the workplace. Think about it, Lisa. What if we fight? What if we go together, and then break up? What if other nurses think I’m playing favorites?”

  “I understand,” she said, “but we’re just getting to know each other. You want me to sign a prenuptial agreement, now?” She hesitated a moment, smiled, then added, “I would, you know.”

  She’s trying to seduce me, Mike thought—and it’s working.

  Mike felt relieved when the waiter brought their dinners. Between bites, they continued getting to know one another.

  At midnight, Lisa said, “I’ve got to go. I’m on again at seven a.m. I’ll be a wreck.”

  “Can I give you a lift home?”

  “Any other time would get you a resounding yes, but my car’s here, and I must get at least a few hours.” She squeezed his hand, and said, “I’m playing with you Mike, but only because I like you.”

  “I understand. I had a great day—one I know I’ll remember.”

  She stood, pulled her purse over her shoulder, and then moved closer. Standing on her toes, she reached his lips with her own. “Plan for more memorable days to come, Mike. I will.” She smiled and squeezed his hand as they walked out.

  He watched as Lisa went to her car with just the right movement of her hips. She must have sensed his interest as she turned to meet his eyes, and blew him a kiss.

  When Lisa walked into their apartment, Phoebe was lying on the couch watching Jay Leno on the Tonight Show.

  She stared at Lisa, pushed the pause button on the TiVo, and said, “I see that smile…out with it.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Right. So, who is he?”

  “It’s Mike, I mean, Dr. Cooper. I did a double, and worked the whole time with him on that Kramer baby.”

  “Sixteen hours,” Phoebe said. “Close together. Side by side—bumping into e
ach other—I’m getting hot just thinking about it.”

  “You get hot thinking about cucumbers.”

  “Something long and hard—don’t get me started,” she laughed. “Okay, now tell me.”

  “We had drinks and dinner afterward, and…”

  “Isn’t he the guy that had the balls to turn you down the last time?”

  “He’s either lucky, or smart. I felt something with him, but if he’d approached me first—I told you how much he resembled my father.”

  “Forget that prick, and tell me about Mike.”

  “You’re not going to like it, Phoebe. He’s a good guy.”

  “Good guy…schmood guy, whatever. Does he ring your bell?”

  “You know me, Phoebe. I’m hardly the seductress type, but I sent messages by loudspeaker, and he got it. If I hadn’t pulled a double, we would have…”

  “When can I meet him? Does he have any friends?”

  Chapter Nine

  The next morning as Lisa rinsed her hair under the steamy shower water, Phoebe opened the door. “It’s your mother, Lisa. She says it’s an emergency.”

  Lisa quickly wrapped a towel around her body, and stood in the kitchen, dripping, as she took the receiver.

  “It’s your father, Lisa. I think he’s having a stroke.”

  “What happened?”

  “He was screaming something about cold coffee, when he turned bright red, and fell to the floor. He tried to speak, but nothing came out—his face was all twisted. I tried to get him up, but I couldn’t move him.”

  “You need to call an ambulance, Mother, right now.”

  “I did. I hear the siren, now.”

  “They’ll take him to Sierra Nevada Memorial Hospital, Mother. Tell them what happened, and that you think it’s a stroke. Sometimes, if they act quickly, they can prevent permanent damage.”

  Sandy sobbed. “I don’t know what I’ll do if I lose him.”

  Lisa shook her head at the irony of her mother worrying over the loss of her tormenter. “It’s too soon to think the worst, Mother. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “Please hurry, darling.”

  Lisa hung up, and immediately dialed Brier NICU. She got Leona Lee on the line. “Leona, I can’t come in today. My father had a stroke, and I have to go to Grass Valley.”

  “Of course, Lisa. Take all the time you need. Keep me posted so I can plan coverage.”

  Lisa tried to call Mike several times on her way to Grass Valley, but the cell signal was poor. Finally, as she approached Highway 20, she got through to his office. “It’s Lisa Cooke, can I speak with Mike—I mean Dr. Cooper?”

  “Of course, Lisa,” said Harriet Cox, his secretary.” He just walked through the door.”

  “Lisa, honey, it’s great that you called. I’ve been thinking about you all night…”

  “Mike,” she interrupted, “I’m on my way to Grass Valley. My father is having a stroke.”

  “My God, that’s terrible. If there’s anything I can do, call me.”

  “I’ll phone when I know more, or I’ll get you at home tonight. If you need me…” she hesitated, “you have my cell number.”

  When Lisa finally reached the junction with Highway 49, the darkening sky opened with torrential rain.

  That’s appropriate, she thought.

  The idea that Rudy might not survive left Lisa with more questions than answers. He’s a cruel bastard. Why should I give a damn about whether he lives or dies? Why do I turn it all back on myself? If only I’d been a better daughter…

  Intellectually, Lisa knew better, but the awesome power of parental love, or the lack of same, had shaped and would continue to influence her life. She recalled her last trip to Barnes and Noble with Phoebe…

  Phoebe pointed to the Self-Improvement section, and said, “It’s expanding like the plague.”

  “Someday,” Lisa said, “they’ll build a strictly self-help bookstore.”

  “Books are okay,” Phoebe said, “except people are complex, and simple solutions never work. Wait a few years, and we’ll be getting our psycho-social fix, like fast-food, at the mall’s shrink-in-the-box, or the drive-up analyst, all set to massage our frail McEgos.”

  Unable to resist the temptation of the quick fix, Lisa bought and read several popular psychologists whose disparate views only confused her. “I have all the tools, but I can’t decide whether to reprogram my mind, switch off the tapes playing in my brain, or give myself a self-esteem overhaul.”

  Phoebe smirked, “Let’s erase the tapes, reprogram the VCR, and drown the self-esteem with a chilled bottle of Kendall Jackson.”

  If only I could incorporate more of Phoebe in my mind.

  Lisa drove to the hospital that faced south, and overlooked the historic Highway 49 of gold rush fame. She rushed to the emergency room, where she found Sandy sitting red-eyed in the waiting room. Moments later, the nurse escorted them into the examining room.

  A middle-aged, grey-haired doctor in a white lab coat greeted them. “I’m Dr. Chase, a neurologist. I’ve examined Mr. Cooke, and we’ve done a CT brain scan that shows that he’s had a massive cerebral hemorrhage.”

  “My God!” Sandy said.

  “How widespread is it?” asked Lisa. “Was it an aneurysm? Is there any possibility of draining it surgically? I’m a nurse, so please be frank with me.”

  “You work here?”

  “No, I work the NICU at Brier Hospital in Berkeley.”

  He hesitated, and then said, “The CT scan shows blood spread throughout Mr. Cooke’s brain, but we don’t see active bleeding. The pressure of that blood on his brain has already done significant damage. All we can do now is try to lower the pressure on his brain, and hope for the best. The chart shows that he had a depressed skull fracture, and prior brain injury.”

  Sandy reddened and turned away.

  “Yes,” Lisa said. “He had weakness and speech problems afterward. You should have all the records.”

  “This is going to be a watch and wait situation,” Chase said. “If you pushed me to guess, I wouldn’t think that he’d make it.”

  Sandy lowered her head into her hands, and wept.

  They moved Rudy to ICU. Lisa and Sandy sat silently at his bedside until the nurse said that visiting hours were over.

  Lisa stared at her father. Looking at Rudy’s placid and benign appearance in coma, nobody would believe the evil acts committed by his malignant personality.

  They drove back to the house.

  Sandy broke the silence. “What will I do, Lisa?”

  “We don’t know what’s going to happen. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

  “I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

  Maybe you’ll have a life, she thought.

  “You may be willing to forget what life with Dad was like, but I can’t…I won’t.”

  “Don’t talk about your father in that way. Especially now.”

  “Especially now? That bastard almost killed me, and he’s destroyed a good part of your life. Don’t expect me to mourn for him, now, or after he’s gone. For me, it’s good riddance.”

  Sandy paled, turned, and without a word, left the room.

  How stupid—how self-indulgent I am, Lisa thought.

  Lisa sat on the porch of her childhood home, as heavy drops fell from the rain-soaked trees.

  Mike called at nine, and Lisa brought him up to date about Rudy’s condition.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “You never know with these cerebral bleeds. Some people come through it.”

  “I know you don’t understand why we got off to such a rocky start, Mike.”

  “What does it matter now?”

  “It was Rudy. You reminded me of Rudy, my father.”

  “What is it?”

  “I’m embarrassed…”

  “Please, Lisa,” Mike pleaded.

  “I hate him. I hate my father,” Lisa said, tears filling her eyes. “I hate him for all the beatings and the abuse my mot
her and I suffered at the hands of that son-of-a-bitch. And now, I’m supposed to feel sorry for the man?”

  Mike took a deep breath, stunned by the vitriol of her reaction. He saw that Lisa’s abuse by this man—the man she loved, the father she wanted so desperately to please, left an open sore on her psyche. Even the wisdom of her maturity hadn’t succeeded in concealing the tears in the fabric of Lisa’s young life—the torment from those she loved the most.

  “Please, Lisa, be kind to yourself. Situations like this one are never easy.” Mike hesitated for a moment, and then continued. “I’m a good listener, and you’ll never find a more sympathetic ear.”

  Lisa blew her nose, and then said, “Thanks Mike. That helps, but not tonight. I’m drained. Call me tomorrow.”

  They talked every night.

  After the fourth day, they moved Rudy to the medical floor, the administrative expression of the hopelessness of his situation. He’d shown no signs of neurological improvement, and remained in a deep coma.

  Sandy stood holding Rudy’s hand. “I can’t believe you’d suggest stopping treatment, Lisa.”

  “I don’t think that it will come to that, but if there’s no chance of recovery, we may need to consider pulling the plug.”

  “I hate that expression,” Sandy said. “What it really means is killing Rudy. Don’t tell me that medicine is so perfect that you know, with certainty, he won’t survive.”

  “We don’t need to have this discussion, now, Mother. Nature will take its course.”

  “I can’t stand the thought that you’d consider killing your own father.”

  “You can’t kill a dead man, Mother. When he has no brain activity, he’s dead. The rest is window dressing.”

  “What did he do to make you so bitter, so angry?”

  Unbelievable, Lisa thought.

  At the end of the second week, Lisa told Mike, “It won’t be long now. His chest is filling up , and we’ve agreed to not treat his pneumonia.”