While Matthew stood by Lindsay’s bedside, John lowered himself into a chair in the far corner of the room and allowed his head to drop into the cradle of his hands. Although his sobs were silent, his shoulders shook as violently as the earth does when a crater opens up.
~ ~ ~
Doctor Ramon Shameer was not only the hospital’s chief of orthopedic surgery, he was also an expert diagnostician and to date he had never once been wrong. When Eleanor Barrow was rolled into the emergency room, he knew without question she had a broken back along with the obvious cuts and lacerations on her face and hands. But protocol is protocol, so the unconscious woman was taken to radiology for a CT scan to confirm what Doctor Shameer already knew.
Eleanor was carefully transferred from the gurney to the scanner bed. Willa, a nurse technician who’d been doing this for nine years, moved to the adjoining room and began the test. Although the woman was still unconscious, Willa followed the same procedure she’d always used. Once the scanner bed began its slide into the tunnel, Willa’s voice echoed through the speakers.
“We are now going to begin the scan,” she said. “You will hear whirring and clicking sounds, but please remain still. If you feel claustrophobic or need help, let me know by speaking. Do not attempt to move or get up.”
The whirring began, and with each click the scanner bed inched its way back out of the tunnel, but what appeared on Willa’s screen was not what she expected.
“Something’s wrong,” she grumbled and ran the test a second time. When the result was the same, she paged Doctor Shameer to radiology.
He eyed the results.
“You’ve made a mistake somewhere,” he said. “Run the test again.” This time he stood alongside her as she did. The scanner bed was halfway through the tunnel when Eleanor blinked her eyes, saw the rings of red light circling her and said, “Where am I?”
“You’re in radiology,” the speaker voice answered. “Please remain still, I’ll be right in.”
Seconds later both Nurse Willa and Doctor Shameer entered the room.
“You’re awake,” he said, stating the obvious.
“Yes,” Eleanor replied, “and I want to get up.” With the scanner bed out of the tunnel she could sit up, but when she made a move to do so Doctor Shameer pounced on her.
“You can’t move,” he said. “Your back is broken.”
Nurse Willa said nothing, because she’d already seen the first two scans.
Eleanor eyed them with a strange expression. “There’s nothing wrong with my back. I feel fine. My knee’s a bit sore, but other than that…”
Doctor Shameer’s mouth dropped open. “Impossible! Can you wiggle your toes?”
“Of course.” Eleanor wiggled the toes on both feet. Before she left the CT scan room Doctor Shameer had her do any number of things to prove that her back, in fact, was not broken. And only after a lengthy series of CT scans and X-rays did he concede that she did not have a single broken bone in her entire body.
After nearly three hours Eleanor was returned to Emergency Exam Room Eight, and Doctor Shameer headed to the records room to re-check every diagnosis he’d ever made. Two days later he took a leave of absence, claiming such a mistake had to have been caused by overwork.
~ ~ ~
I feel a bit guilty about sabotaging Doctor Shameer’s career as I did, but it all worked out for the best. Looking ahead, I can tell you he’ll take Midu on that vacation he’s been promising her for the past ten years. And one moonlit night in Fiji when the romance in the air is thicker than the humidity, they’ll create a baby girl who will one day be the world’s leading heart surgeon.
Had I not acted as I did, I can say for certain six lives would have been destroyed. Eleanor would have spent the remainder of her years in a wheelchair. Believing herself to be a burden, she would have refused to marry John and she would have settled for having Ray live with her.
Filled with the remorse of guilt, Ray would have become unbearable. He and Traci would have long-running arguments, and in the end she’d have filed for a divorce claiming that Ray was impossible to live with.
And Lindsay. Ah, yes, hers would have been the saddest story of all. Had Eleanor not come to love the girl as she had, Lindsay would have been crushed beneath the automobile. Instead of being rescued, her dog would be killed by an eighteen-wheeler on the interstate. Matthew, unable to forget the love of his life, would have taken to drink and closed the doors to the Kindness Animal Clinic less than a year later.
When I look ahead at how things might have been, I know I’ve done the right thing.
So far there’s been no repercussion from The Boss. I’m thinking He probably agrees with what I did. Hopefully He’ll give Life Management an earful about being a bit more flexible in the future. I’d like nothing more than to hear Him tell those guys “Love conquers all”, but I guess that’s asking for too much.
Cupid
The Prodigal Son
We both know why Eleanor had nothing more than a few cuts and bruises, but Doctor Shameer, still brooding over his inaccurate diagnosis, insisted she and Lindsay remain in the hospital overnight.
“There’s no need,” Eleanor argued.
Doctor Shameer remained adamant. “Possible concussion, and I’m thinking that perhaps we should check your spine again tomorrow.”
With Thanksgiving only four days off, I knew Eleanor was anxious to get home. I could see her counting up the things that were yet to be done. While Doctor Shameer was looking for an injured spine, Eleanor was wondering where she might find candles in the pumpkin color that would match her tablecloth. After several minutes of going back and forth on the issue, the good doctor said he’d arrange for her and Lindsay to be in the same room, and Eleanor finally gave in—not because she felt she needed further care, but because she was concerned about Lindsay. Despite the rocky start to their relationship, Eleanor had come to think of Lindsay as the daughter she’d never had. And even though Lindsay was the spitting image of Bethany, Eleanor could at times see pieces of herself in the girl.
~ ~ ~
It was almost nine when they finally settled in the room. After Matthew pulled the curtain between the two beds partway closed, he leaned close to Lindsay and whispered how such a scare had made him realize that he couldn’t live without her. Careful not to bump up against the bruised side of her face, he put his mouth to hers and kissed her in a way she’d never before been kissed—not hard or hungry or passionate, but so gentle that it was like a silken promise landing on her lips. Lindsay’s heartbeat spiked from 82 to 147, and when the monitor began beeping the nurse hurried in to check on her.
With the curtain hiding them from one another John seized the same opportunity, although it was in a somewhat less romantic way. He bent over and snuggled his cheek next to Eleanor’s.
“That’s it,” he whispered. “I don’t care who likes it and who doesn’t—we’re getting married right away. I could’ve lost you.”
Eleanor smiled, but behind her smile was the pain of remembering the last conversation with Ray. Being loved in such a way brought great happiness and yet…
“We can’t just take our happiness and cause misery to others,” she said sadly. “Let’s wait until I can work things out with Ray. He’ll come around. I know he will…sooner or later.”
Eleanor knew it would probably be later—much later. Maybe never.
“I think we’ve waited long enough,” John answered. “After you’ve told Ray what we’ve decided to do, he’ll have no further argument. If he still can’t accept the truth of how we feel, then I’m ready to go ahead without him.”
“Be patient,” she said and turned her mouth to his.
Once John was gone, Eleanor again tried calling Ray’s number. The answering machine clicked on after the third ring.
“Ray, it’s Mom,” she said. “I’m in the hospital but don’t worry, I’m okay. Call me when you can. I’ve got something important to tell you.”
Whe
n she hung up the phone, Lindsay said, “You didn’t tell him which hospital or give him the number.”
Eleanor sighed. “That’s okay. I doubt he’d call anyway.”
~ ~ ~
Some people never realize how treasured a thing is until it’s lost. Ray is just such a person. He argued with his father day and night, but the minute the man stopped breathing Ray started remembering him as the most saintly man who ever lived. He then turned disagreeable with his mother. Although Eleanor did everything imaginable to coddle the boy, he criticized her every move. And after twelve years of being a widow, when she finally found her own happiness, he became outraged.
But all of that was before he heard the crash. Before he lost the connection on Lindsay’s cell phone. Before he drove all over town looking for Eleanor, and before he came to believe that wherever she was she needed help—his help.
After Ray tried redialing Lindsay’s cell phone number and got nothing, he waited for a good half-hour thinking she’d call back. When she didn’t, he tried calling John Gray’s number. The telephone rang once, and then the line went dead. He waited five minutes and called again. Same result. He finally got in his car and drove to Eleanor’s house. Using his key, he went inside and walked through room after room looking for her and calling out her name. He even opened closet doors and searched the basement. Nothing.
From there he drove to John Gray’s house. He walked to the front door and pushed the bell at precisely seven-twenty. There was no answer. John was already on his way to the hospital.
Ray leaned on the doorbell a dozen times; then he walked around back of the house and peered through a window. He could see the television flickering in the family room, but other than that there was no sign of life. Reasoning that with the television on someone had to be at home, he stood there rapping his knuckles against the front door for another fifteen minutes.
When he failed to rouse anyone at the Gray house, Ray spent two hours driving back and forth to the shops Eleanor frequented. He checked the hair salon, the supermarket and three different gas stations. According to the clerks he spoke with, Eleanor had not been there for days. He then began knocking on doors. He tried seven of her neighbors, but no one seemed to know anything. Louise Farmer claimed she hadn’t seen Eleanor in several months and was almost certain she’d moved.
When Ray returned home the red light on his answering machine was blinking. He hit Play and listened to Eleanor’s message.
She hadn’t said what hospital, so he pressed *69 and waited. After several rings the operator answered, “Jefferson University Hospital.”
“I’m trying to reach Eleanor Barrow. She’s a patient.”
“Inbound patient calls are not permitted after ten o’clock,” the voice said.
“I’m her son!”
“I’m sorry, there are no exceptions.”
“Let me speak to the nurse in charge!”
“Very well, sir. What’s the patient’s room number?”
“I don’t know her room number,” he snapped. “Can’t you look it up?”
“I’m sorry, sir, I don’t have that information. You need to speak to Patient Services. Hold on, I’ll transfer you.”
Ray heard the click and waited. After several minutes, a dial tone sounded.
Three tries later he got Marjorie Elkins, the third floor night nurse.
“I’m trying to get some information about Eleanor Barrow,” he said. “She’s the patient in room 317.”
Marjorie had a blinding headache and a bunion that had throbbed for five days straight. She was counting the minutes until the end of her shift so she could go home and crawl into bed. She could barely tolerate the demanding patients and had absolutely no tolerance for impatient callers. She glanced down the list of patients, spotted the woman’s name then replied, “She’s stable.” It was an answer she used often, one people generally could accept. It suggested the patient was doing fine and didn’t offer the promise of anything that might not be possible.
Since this was Ray’s fifth telephone call to the hospital, he was also short on patience and long on attitude.
“Not enough,” he said sharply. “I want to know what’s wrong with her.”
“That’s something you’ll have to discuss with her doctor.”
“Who is her doctor?”
Marjorie flipped open the chart again. “Doctor Shameer. He’s not on duty this evening, but I can transfer you to his voicemail.”
“Can’t you just tell me what’s wrong with her?”
Marjorie’s head was killing her, and listening to this arrogant jerk wasn’t helping matters.
“No, I can’t,” she snapped irritably, “and even if I wanted to, there’s a little thing called the patient privacy law.”
“I’m Ray Barrow, her son!”
“Your name is not on the list of those authorized to receive patient information.”
“Whose name is on the list?”
“I’m not allowed to give you that information.”
“This is going nowhere,” he griped. “Just tell Eleanor Barrow to call her son.”
“Okay.” Marjorie hung up the telephone and started to scribble the message on a sticky note, but before she finished writing Winifred Willkie’s alarm went off and made it look like she was flat lining.
“Good grief!” Marjorie exclaimed and went scurrying down the hall. As it turned out the woman had simply disconnected herself from the monitor because she had to go to the bathroom, but her roommate claimed that she indeed was having severe pains in her chest. When Marjorie finally returned to the nursing station, Ray’s message had long since been forgotten.
Traci, who’d been visiting her parents in Hoboken, arrived home shortly after midnight. She walked in and found Ray standing beside the wall phone in their kitchen.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Waiting for Mom to call,” he answered. “She’s in the hospital…” He explained how he’d heard the crash and finally learned that she was at Jefferson University Hospital.
“The problem,” he said, “is that they won’t give me any information about her condition. For all I know—”
“Why didn’t you just go to the hospital and ask her?”
“It was too late by the time I found out. They wouldn’t even put my call through.” When Ray spoke he no longer had the squint of scorn he’d begun to use when talking about his mother. His eyebrows were pinched together, and ridges of worry lined his forehead.
Traci walked over, leaned against his chest and hooked her arms around his neck. “If you’re worried about your mom, why don’t you give John Gray a call? He probably knows—”
“I’ve already tried,” he said. “I even drove over there, but nobody’s home.”
That’s when Traci knew Ray was honestly concerned about his mother. After the Labor Day cookout, he’d sworn he’d never again speak to John Gray or any member of his family. “That includes Mom, if she goes ahead with this marriage,” he’d said. But now he’d not just called, he’d actually gone to John’s house.
“What exactly did your mom say in her last message?”
Ray replayed the message on the answering machine.
“She says she’s alright,” Traci said trying to comfort him. “Maybe she just went in for something simple like cosmetic surgery—”
“Mom?”
Traci had to admit such a thing was highly unlikely. She pressed her cheek to Ray’s chest. “Try not to worry, honey. We’ll go visit Mom first thing in the morning.”
That night Ray tossed and twisted, uncomfortable and ill at ease no matter what way he turned. The two times he did doze off he dreamt of his father and woke feeling another shade guiltier. When the clock ticked off four-thirty, he mumbled, “If Mom is okay I’m gonna make it up to her, I swear I will.” Since Traci was sound asleep, his were the only human ears that heard the promise.
Of course I heard it, but I debated about whether or not I believed it. I�
�ve heard many such promises before, but humans have a way of forgetting vows. They pray please give me this or that and I’ll never ask for another thing. Unfortunately a day or two after they get what they want, they move on to wanting something else and the promise they made is all but forgotten. Not all humans are this way, but I always feel a sense of sadness when I come across one who is.
~ ~ ~
Although visiting hours did not start until ten, Ray and Traci circumvented the registration desk and snuck upstairs at eight-thirty. They waited until the nurses at the third floor desk were busy, then quietly slipped down the hall and into Room 317.
Eleanor was eating her breakfast when they walked in.
She gasped. “Ray, how did you—”
The shock of seeing him caused a bite of toast with raspberry jam to get stuck in her throat, and it took a good ten seconds for her to cough it up.
He began talking before she could say anything more.
“I’m so sorry, Mom,” he said. “I know I’ve behaved like a selfish ass, but I’m going to be better. Don’t you worry about a thing, just get well and get out of—”
Once Eleanor had dislodged the toast, she said, “There’s nothing wrong with me, Lindsay’s the one—”
Ray’s expression changed almost instantly. “I should have known. It’s always about them! John and Lindsay, Lindsay and John! I’m your son, but do you care about me? No! Because of them, you’ve turned your back on your own family!”
“I’ve done no such thing,” Eleanor said, “and if you’d bothered to call me back—”
“Call you back—why? So you can tell me about how wonderful—”
“No, so I could tell you that John wants me to give you the house!” Eleanor replied angrily. “You claim the only reason he wants to marry me is to get hold of the few things I own. Well, he’s trying to show you that’s not true.”
Wishing for Wonderful: The Serendipity Series, Book 3 Page 15
