“Hello, young lady. What’s your name?”
She began to cry. “Amanda Whitethorn but my folks called me Amy. I miss them so much,” she whimpered.
“Well I’m sure the searchers will find them soon, honey. It won’t be long now,” she said, offering hope to her situation.
“They already found them… with me. They died in the earthquake when the house fell in on them,” she sobbed. Then she took a deep breath, trying to compose herself, and continued, “We had just finished dinner and I was outside playing with Mozart, my puppy, and got lucky, I guess. Maybe not.”
Jen frowned, wiped a tear from her eye, and moved to Amy’s side taking her small hands in hers.
“But what happened to Mozart?”
“There’s no one else left for him,” she cried, “He lived but they took him off to the pound.”
“Oh no, Amanda. Do you have aunts or uncles… any grandparents to take care of you?”
She hesitated, wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her hospital gown then looked down and rubbed a scrape on her hand.
“I wish I did, but my mom and dad were only children like me and their parents are gone, too.”
Her saddened gaze rose to Jen before she continued.
“What’s your name? You look kinda like my mom only taller.”
“My name is Jennifer Lowe but people call me Jen.”
“Hi Jen, You can call me Amy,” she smiled, wrinkling her nose. “I’m glad to meet you. Are you sick, too?”
“No, Amy, I’m here to see my boyfriend who was injured in a mudslide during the earthquake. He’s in that room.”
She pointed to C605 several yards away.
Amy pushed up higher on her elbows and tried to see in. Then she giggled briefly and caught herself, hiding her laughter with a frown.
“I’m sorry, Jen, he looks like a mummy from a monster movie I saw. I couldn’t help myself. Is he gonna be okay?”
A gentle smile accompanied her answer.
“Yes Amy, the doctor thinks so. I’m staying overnight in the room with him. We’ll know more in the morning.”
“Well my doctor should be here any minute, they told me, so you better go see him now and kiss him better, Jen. I’ll be all right out here. Thank you for talking with me; it helped pass the time away until I get fixed.”
“But Amy, where will you go? You have nowhere to live. Do you?”
She sniffled, then glanced around before she put her hand to her mouth and whispered, “They didn’t tell me but I heard someone talk about placing me with the Foster’s in their home, whoever they are. They must be very nice; they have lots of kids. Then the CPS lady said it’s their only option… but they didn’t know I was listening.”
Jennifer understood what she meant so she tried to play along. “Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. I’m not so sure you’ll like the Fosters; I’ve heard of them and they have so many kids they don’t give them theattention they deserve---”
“What do you mean?”
“Tell you what,” Jen said, settling on the gurney beside her. “I have an idea. Let me talk to Dr. Godwin tomorrow morning and see if we can work something out for you.”
Her little face brightened with a smile. “Is he the doctor who’s going to treat my head?”
“No, Amy, he’s my boyfriend. He’s not a medical doctor but he has a PhD. He’s a doctor of philosophy.”
“Oh. Like my mom and dad. They were very smart. They were both teachers.”
“Really? Where did they teach?”
“They taught at a school they called Cal Tech. Mom taught music and Dad taught science.”
“Well I bet your life was exciting.”
“Not really, they were never home except when they were homeschooling me. That was my favorite time.”
“So I’ll bet you’re smarter than the average bear?”
Amy giggled. “I’m not a bear. I’m just a little girl… without a mom and dad.” The thought triggered more tears.
Just then, Jen stood as a matronly woman in green scrubs approached.
“I’m Nurse Hogue. Are you Amanda Whitethorn?” she asked, then bent down and wiped the tears from her face.
“Yes, ma’am but you can call me Amy.”
“Okay then, and how old are you Amy?”
“Nine today, ten tomorrow, It’s my birthday and I have no one to celebrate it with.”
“There, there. No more tears and happy birthday. We’ll have you fixed up in a jiffy, young lady. I’m just going to wheel you in to see Doctor Bains, the most painless of all our doctors.”
She glanced up at Jen. “Are you her mom?”
“No ma’am, I’m here with my friend in C605. I was just out here visiting with Amy. Will she be kept overnight?”
After eyeing Amy’s chart for a moment, she looked up.
“Yes, probably. Until we get things sorted out, there’s a room for her.”
Jen smiled. “Good,” she said then bent down and kissed Amy on her forehead.
“I’ll see you in the morning, kiddo. I want you to be strong for me. No more crying, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am. Can I kiss you back?”
“Of course, Amy, always.” She leaned her cheek down to the little girl’s face and received a kiss but never expected to hear the words whispered in her ear.
“I love you, Jen. Thank you so much for being here with me. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Chapter 4
DAWN
T he first rays of sunshine shot daggers of light through room C605, awakening Jen from a sound sleep. Her face, still crisscrossed with lines from the hard cushion, squinted into the brightness as she tried to focus her vision on something, anything, wondering where she was. Instantly, memories of the night before flooded back when her eyes met those of a young blond girl, standing over her, smiling, staring down.
“Good morning, Jen,” the small voice said.
“Oh, hi sweetie, happy birthday,” she answered, stifling a yawn. “What are you doing here?”
“Dr. Bains fixed me up as good as new and put me in a room by myself,” she said with a smile, then it faded, “but I got lonely in there so I came to visit you here in C605… like you did me last night. See my head? It doesn’t hurt any more. But now I have a stupid bandage up there.”
Her rapid chatter caught Jen off guard; she had not been around a talkative ten year old in quite a while, particularly at six in the morning.
“Yes, Amy,” she smiled, feigning interest, still trying to wake up, “I see that but that bandage is very pretty. It looks like a pink hair bow. That was nice of him to think of that.”
“Oh it wasn’t Dr. Bains. It was actually Nurse Hogue that did it. She wanted me to look nice but she didn’t know I hate hair bows.”
Jen chuckled and sat up, stretching her arms over her head.
“Is that your friend, over there?” Amy asked pointing to Jason, lying quietly in the bed with a breathing tube down his throat. “He looks friendly but I wish he would wake up so I can meet him.”
“He’ll wake up as soon as the doctor comes in to remove that tube, any minute now,” she said, smiling.
Curious as any ten year old, the little girl then glanced down at the sleeping mat under Jen. “Is that what you slept on? Looks pretty hard. Did you sleep well?”
“Well, Amy, it’s not the most comfortable bed I’ve slept on but it sure beats the floor---”
Interrupting the conversation, Nurse Hogue rushed frowning into the room but upon seeing the missing girl, relaxed her face with a relieved huff.
“There you are, you little escape artist. I thought you might return here and I was right.”
Amy moved closer to Jen, whimpered quietly and cowered against her, fearing a reprimand.
“Now come with me back to your room; it’s time for your breakfast.”
She dropped her lower lip and whined, “But I’m not hungry. It’s too early to eat.”
Not amused, the nurse put her han
ds on her hips and playfully glared at her.
“Now, young lady, don’t give me any trouble or I’ll have to come tickle you.”
The threat seemed to work as Amy started giggling and ran to the nurse’s side. “Please don’t tickle me. I hate tickles,” she said, hugging herself and spinning around for protection.
“Okay then, good, let’s go,” the nurse snapped, grabbing her hand. As they headed off together, Amy looked back with a tear in her eye.
“Goodbye Jen. If you ever want to come see me, I’m in the pediatrics ward, room P102. I do accept visitors, you know.”
As she disappeared out the door, Jennifer smiled at her bravery considering she had just lost her parents. A bit precocious, exactly what she wanted in a daughter, the young girl had melted her heart. And it appeared the admiration was mutual. Now all she had to do was tell Jason.
As another figure entered the room, she decided to delay her thoughts of an intervention. All business, a stern faced woman walked up and held out her hand.
“Good morning. I’m Dr. Vishnikarian, Dr. Godwin’s respiratory therapist, here to remove his breathing tube and take him off the ventilator.”
“Good morning Dr. Vishni… Dr Vish ̶ ”
“Don’t fret with my name, child,” she interrupted. “I’m called Dr. V around here for simplicity.”
Jen smiled. “Good I can remember that.”
“Now what I’m about to do is a brief procedure but it can be visually unpleasant. Would you prefer to wait outside? It will only take about thirty minutes… an hour at most.”
Nodding, Jen rose at the invitation. She wanted to see Jason but not with a tube being extracted from his throat. She would rather wait a few minutes for her normal Jason.
“Definitely. Yes. I need coffee anyway. Lots of it. Where’s the closest coffee pot?”
“Around the corner,” the doctor said, motioning left, “in the visitors’ waiting room. I just made fresh. I’ll find you when I’m done.”
At six-oh-four in the morning, visiting hours had not yet begun. The sixth-floor CICU lounge was empty and she welcomed the privacy. More than that, she welcomed the smell of fresh coffee and although the foam cups were small, she planned to have a refill. Especially when she had an hour to kill.
The coffee service table where she spooned two sugars into her cup also offered a variety of creamers, expensive creamers that she rarely used. On a whim, she sorted through the bottles searching for one that best suited her taste. There were hazelnut, vanilla, caramel, chocolate, and toasted almond flavors; they all sounded good but the almond creamer won, reminding of her favorite candy, marzipan.
It had been only a minute since she flavored her coffee, took a sip, and switched the television to news of the earthquake when she began to feel nauseous and grabbed a chair. It came on as precipitously as the dizziness and heart palpitations did. Feeling her health quickly deteriorating, she tried to stand upright to find a nurse, but failed and slipped to the floor, convulsing and vomiting.
“Help!” she called out, gurgling. “Somebody help me, please.”
Seconds passed with no response, but then a passing orderly heard her cries and poked his head into the room. Seeing her distress, he rushed to her side.
He squatted and leaned over her. “Ma’am, can you hear me?”
“Y-Yes. I-I think I’ve been poisoned,” she moaned, not looking up. “The co-coffee. Chills, stomach pain. Splitting headache. Please h-help me.”
Without hesitation, he reached for the microphone clipped to his collar, pushed the button and called, “Code Black in the CICU visitors’ lounge. Get a poison control team up here. Stat! ”
“Roger that, Mac. We’re on our way. What are we dealing with? Any ideas?” a voice answered, vibrating, already moving toward the scene.
“Appears to be tainted coffee… wait, let me check.” He looked up and found her coffee cup, left on the table, still almost full to the brim with one pair of lip prints on its rim marked by faded lipstick. That told him that he was dealing with a potent poison to have such a great effect for the small amount missing. Then he held it to his nose, trying to catch the telltale scent of a known chemical. And there it was; the smell of almonds, toasted almonds, combined with a bitter almond odor as well, characteristic of potassium cyanide.
“Okay, I have a hunch guys. My money’s on cyanide poisoning. Bring the antidote kit and hurry it up. She’s in seizure right now.”
A few minutes later, three large men dressed in white hazmat suits wheeled a cart into the room, loaded her rigid body onto it, and started IVs with the lifesaving antidote medicines: sodium nitrite and sodium thiosulfate.
Around the corner, at the CICU nurses’ station, a nurse heard the ruckus, left his CICU station, and rushed in to help. “Room C606 has just come available,” he said. “Put her in there; she’ll be near her friend in 605.”
“Righto, Bruno. Wherever you tell us,” said Mac. “Let’s move her, guys. Careful. Breakfast is waiting.”
Within a few minutes, Jen was under antidote treatment in the room next to Jason’s and doing better. Although cyanide poisoning is a serious, possibly deadly, condition, it can be treated if caught in time. And had it not been for Mac hearing her call she might not have lived, but she was lucky as was Jason.
How ironic it was for them both to be almost done in by something as benign as almonds at six-oh-five, as Nissy had warned. But they were both still alive and clinging to life unaware of each other’s status.
Chapter 5
AWAKENINGS
T he hands of the sixth-floor hall clock had just edged to seven-ten a.m. when Dr. Vishnikarian exited room C605 and went to find Jen with good news. But in the lounge where she expected to find her there were only scraps of medical wrappers and discarded IV caps on the floor, under a cup of killer coffee still on the table. Two security guards in brown uniforms stood in the corner and seemed surprised by her entrance. The senior one, Glen, was eating a doughnut; the younger one, Barney, chewing gum, was holding out his smart phone playing a game.
“Good morning, Dr. V,” the older guard said. “Do you know anything about this?”
Confused, she scanned the room. “About what, Glen? I sent my patient’s visitor out for coffee a short time ago, but she’s not here. Where is she? And what’s all this mess?”
“In room C606 with suspected cyanide poisoning. It was in the coffee we think,” he said, giving Barney a questioning stare, nudging him away from his phone. Barney glanced up and offered a confirming nod.
“What? Cyanide in that coffee?” she shrieked, pointing at the nearly full carafe. “That’s impossible. I had a cup from that pot just after I made it at the start of my shift…,” she looked at her watch, “about an hour ago.”
“So you drank from that same pot?” Glen asked, retrieving a dropped doughnut crumb for the floor.
“Yes, of course. There’s no other coffee around, is there?”
“Did you use a creamer? This one has cream,” Glen said, pointing to the foam cup, nearly toppling it with his finger.
“No. I take mine black,” she scoffed. “Why do you ask?”
Again, the younger guard looked up from his phone and smacked his gum like cud. “Doctor, we’re just trying to collect information here for the Sheriff’s office before they arrive, probably any minute now.”
“Well you two K-Cops had best leave the investigation to them if it’s really cyanide,” she chuckled, “and get that cup of mischief off that table before someone accidentally drinks or spills it.” With that, she turned back to leave. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have patients to see.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said Glen, blushing, “Sorry if it was an inconvenience. Thanks for your time, Dr. V.”
She rushed back into the busy CICU hallway and looked around, feeling the weight of another patient possibly needing assistance with breathing, a side effect of cyanide in the system. She could just roll the ventilator from C605 to C606 to save time…
if Ms. Lowe needed it.
“Hey, Dr. V, what’s going on out there?” came Jason’s voice from C605, seeing her rush by his room. “I thought you were going to get Jen and bring me some coffee. I need coffee.”
She heard him but continued into Jen’s room avoiding a possible confrontation until she knew more. He had been out of sedation only fifteen minutes and still would be groggy.
“Hello, Dr. Lipinski,” she said, after recognizing the doctor standing over her. “What’s her condition?”
The doctor turned back to the voice. “Oh hi, Dr. V, I think we caught her in time. She’s accepting the antidotes well and her vitals are beginning to stabilize. Don’t know if she’ll need respiratory care, though. The oxygen mask has her O2 saturation almost back to normal.”
“Prognosis?” Dr. V asked, wanting something to tell Jen’s friend next door.
“She should be up and running around by noon today, thanks to our sharp poison control team. I still don’t know how they suspected cyanide so fast but fortunately for her it saved lots of problems. Plus we evacuated her stomach, too, just to speed up the recovery.”
“Well that’s great to hear, Doctor. I owe her a dinner tonight,” boomed a healthy deep voice from the doorway.
Surprised, they turned together to see Jason Godwin in jeans, grinning, standing in the doorway, supported only by a cane.
“Dr. Godwin, you shouldn’t be out of bed. It’s too soon,” said Dr. Lipinski, her eyebrows furrowed in a frown.
“I just came over to see what all the fuss was about. Never imagined it would be my Jen. What happened to her? Did I hear you say cyanide?”
The doctors looked at each other and nodded before Dr. Lipinski spoke. “Yes, we suspect she ingested some cyanide although we still have more tests to run on the coffee creamers to verify the poison.”
NISSY Page 3
