by Scotty Cade
Hawk took a deep breath and nodded. Garner ran a cloth over his face and brushed his teeth, then called a cab while Hawk did the same.
On the way out, Garner left a note for Thompson and Hank, explaining where they were and that he would call as soon as they knew something.
The hospital was on Stock Island, just one island over from Key West across the bridge on U.S. Route 1, but as far as Hawk was concerned, it could have been in Miami for how long he thought it was taking to get there. When the cab stopped at the emergency entrance in front of the hospital, Hawk knew he should be doing something. We’re here! Move, you idiot! He looked down at his left hand and realized his fingers were gripping the door handle so hard his knuckles were white. They wouldn’t budge. No matter how hard he tried, his fingers stayed wrapped around the handle. He looked at his right hand. It was locked into Garner’s left, holding on tightly. When had that happened?
“We’re here, Hawk,” Garner said softly, handing the driver a twenty-dollar bill.
Garner tugged on his hand gently, but Hawk still couldn’t move. “Hawk. Listen to me. It’s going to be okay, but you have to let go of the door handle so I can help you out of the cab.”
Somehow Garner’s soothing voice gave Hawk the courage to break free. He released his grip, slid across the seat to Garner’s side of the cab, and allowed Garner to help him out. Together they entered the hospital, still hand in hand, and Hawk wrinkled his nose at the strong antiseptic smell he always associated with hospitals.
They walked up to the information desk and Hawk attempted to speak, but his voice cracked and he stopped, realizing he was about to lose it. He sighed with relief when Garner spoke up. “I’m Doctor Garner Holt, and we’re here regarding Justin Morrison. I think he was brought in a little while ago.”
The attendant checked the computer records. “Yes, I see Mr. Morrison was brought in about fifteen minutes ago. I’m sorry. What was your name again?”
“Holt. Doctor Garner Holt.”
“I’m sorry, Doctor Holt. I don’t see your name listed on the hospital authorization paperwork signed by Mr. Morrison when he was brought in. And being a doctor, I’m sure you are very familiar with current HIPAA laws and my inability to give information to anyone not listed as next of kin.”
Hawk heard the words “next of kin.” “Me,” he choked out, raising his hand. “I think that would be me,” Hawk added, vaguely remembering Justin telling him that he’d listed him that way on his health insurance.
“And you are?” the attendant asked.
“I’m… I’m Hawk, Hawken Bristol.”
The attendant checked the records again. “Ah, yes, Mr. Bristol, you are listed as next of kin.”
The attendant read farther down the record. “It appears that Mr. Morrison is having a CT scan done as we speak. Please have a seat in the waiting area, and as soon as he’s back from the scan, someone will come out and talk with you.”
“But…,” Hawk said.
“No, no, Hawk. It’s okay,” Garner said, squeezing his hand and tugging. “Let’s take a seat, and they’ll find us when he’s back.”
Hawk followed Garner’s lead, and they found chairs side by side in the corner of the waiting room. Hawk looked straight ahead, staring at the blank wall across the room, but he felt Garner’s grip tighten when he began to tremble.
“It’s going to be okay, Hawk. Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it.”
After a moment, Hawk realized his head was moving up and down, but it felt like he was no longer in control of it.
Hawk fought the waves of panic as his body trembled, settled, and then started trembling again. His brain was on overload, and suddenly the blank wall in front of him appeared to be a video screen, flashing all sorts of pictures through his mind. He saw Justin flying through the air and rolling off the hood of a strange car. Then he saw him lying in the middle of the street alone and bleeding as the car sped up and rounded the corner on screeching tires. An image of Justin lying on a stretcher and being put in an ambulance came next, followed by an image of Justin’s lifeless body lying in a coffin.
“No! No! No!” Hawk whispered as he released Garner’s hand, stood, and began pacing.
Garner quickly stood, put both hands on Hawk’s shoulders, and stilled him. “Stop it!” Garner said compassionately, as if he’d somehow seen the same images as those flying through Hawk’s head. “Don’t jump to any conclusions, Hawk. We just don’t know.”
Hawk blinked back the tears threatening to escape his watery eyes. “He’s my only real friend, Garner. My best friend.”
“That’s not true,” Garner said. Hawk felt strong arms wrapping around him and pulling him close. “I—” Garner paused. “I’m your friend, and I’m gonna be with you as long as you need me.”
Hawk’s subconscious picked up on some odd tone or hesitancy in Garner’s voice, but he quickly pushed it to the back of his mind for later. In that moment, for the first time in his life, he realized he actually needed someone. He needed Garner. Hawk didn’t know how long it would last, but for right now he damn sure needed the man.
“Hawken Bristol?” a voice yelled from across the sterile waiting room.
Hawk looked up to see a man in gray pants and a knee-length white coat standing at the attendant’s desk.
“I’m Hawk Bristol!” Hawk said, rushing across the sparsely filled room and meeting the man halfway. When Hawk stopped, he was relieved to feel Garner right behind him.
“I’m Doctor Bridges,” the man said with his arm extended. “I’m Mr. Morrison’s neurologist.”
“Hawk Bristol,” Hawk repeated, shaking the doctor’s hand, adding, “This is my friend Garner Holt. How’s Justin?”
The doctor shook Garner’s hand and addressed them both. “I just conferred with the radiologist who reviewed Mr. Morrison’s CT scan, and Mr. Morrison has suffered a pretty severe head trauma.”
“Exactly what does that mean?” Hawk asked, feeling certain he had that deer-in-headlights expression on his face.
“Well, the human brain is surrounded with cerebrospinal fluid that acts like a cushion or a buffer for the cortex,” Dr. Bridges explained. “For lack of a better word, the brain floats in the fluid, which provides a layer of basic protection inside the skull. When the skull or head experiences some type of trauma, the brain is bounced around, but the fluid protects it and keeps the cortex from coming in contact with the inside of the skull. In the case of a severe head trauma, the fluid is not thick enough or sufficient to completely protect the brain, so in many instances, the brain slams against the inside of the skull case like a pinball and, as a result, can become badly bruised or severely damaged.”
“How severe was Justin’s trauma?” Hawk asked.
“I can’t really answer that question right now,” the doctor said. “There is a significant amount of blood mixed in with the cerebrospinal fluid, and his ventricles are dilated, indicating some swelling of the brain. The blood is a direct result of the trauma and will dissipate if the bleeding has stopped, but the swelling could become a problem.”
“Jesus!” Hawk whispered, rubbing his head.
“No, wait!” Garner said, looking back and forth between Dr. Bridges and Hawk. “Before you jump to any conclusions, this is not an uncommon occurrence for this type of trauma.”
The doctor looked at Garner with a questioning expression.
“Dr. Garner Holt, MD, PhD, and PsyD,” Garner said.
Bridges nodded. “He’s right, Mr. Bristol. The issue becomes more serious if the brain continues to swell and eventually fills the skull casing, causing further damage, which can result in paralysis, loss of speech and motor functions, or even death.”
“Please tell me you can stop the swelling?” Hawk begged.
“We’ve already started Mr. Morrison on anti-inflammatory drugs, and we’re watching him very carefully. We’ve scheduled him for an MRI in a couple of hours, and if his brain is still showing signs of swelling, we can take furth
er action.”
The blood drained from Hawk’s face and he involuntarily reached for Garner. When their hands touched, Hawk grabbed hold and squeezed, needing the human contact, and braced himself for what was coming next. “Which means what exactly?” Hawk asked.
The doctor continued. “After the MRI, if we determine there is limited to moderate swelling, we can drill a hole through the skull and insert an intraventricular catheter through the lateral ventricle, which is the area of the brain that contains the cerebrospinal fluid, and monitor the fluid levels, releasing fluid through the catheter as needed, giving the brain a little more room to expand. Or if the swelling is moderate to severe, we can do a trephination, or burr hole procedure, which means we’ll temporarily remove a portion of Mr. Morrison’s skull to give the brain the room it needs to further expand until the swelling stops.”
Hawk wasn’t sure how to respond. Both options required holes in Justin’s skull, and neither sounded pleasant.
“Were there any other injuries or trauma?” Garner asked.
“Besides the head trauma, Mr. Morrison has various lacerations, a broken wrist, and he’s pretty badly bruised, but other than that, he’s in remarkably good condition considering what he’s been through.”
“When can we see him?” Hawk asked.
“He’s on his way up to the Neurointensive Care unit now, but by the time we get there, he should be settled in.”
“Is he conscious?”
“Yes and no,” Dr. Bridges said. “I was told by the EMT he was unresponsive immediately after the accident, then slowly regained consciousness during transport to the hospital. When he arrived, he was alert, knew his name, and was able to answer a series of questions used to determine basic levels of head trauma. He signed the paperwork giving us authorization to treat him and gave us your name as next of kin.
“But he was starting to show signs of distress, a second indication that the brain was indeed swelling, so we’ve since sedated him until we can determine the severity of his injury.”
“Distress?” Hawk asked, looking at Garner. “What kind of distress?”
“It’s okay, Hawk,” Garner said, squeezing his hand. “In many cases a brain injury can cause a patient to act irrationally. I’ve seen patients wake up disoriented and try to pull their IVs out or attempt to get out of bed. I’ve even seen patients get extremely violent, and they can do all sorts of further damage to themselves and others. So this is good for him. It will also give his brain time to rest.”
“If you say so,” Hawk said, feeling a little relieved. He turned back to Dr. Bridges. “So, can we see him now?”
“Sure. I’ll take you both up,” Dr. Bridges replied. “Right this way.”
Hawk held on tightly to Garner’s hand as they walked down the hall and waited for the elevator. When the doors opened on the fourth floor, the doctor went up to the nurses’ station and spoke quietly to the attending nurse, then waved Garner and Hawk over.
The doctor led them through a series of halls before they got to a set of secured double doors. The doctor swiped his badge over the reader and admitted them to a very large open area with a nurses’ station in the center and glass-enclosed cubicles lining the exterior walls. They walked past three of these, each with patients inside hooked up to a daunting array of machines, before getting to Justin’s room.
Hawk gasped and fought back tears when he saw his best friend. He released Garner’s hand, walked gingerly up to Justin’s bed, and stood staring down at him. “How long can we stay?”
“Just a few minutes,” the doctor said. “The NICU allows family members to see patients every four hours for thirty minutes at a time. But it’s okay for now. Take your time. In fact, I’ll give you two a little privacy while I check his status reports.”
Justin had a white bandage wrapped around his head, and his face was covered with scrapes and cuts, his skin ghostly white where it wasn’t black and purple from the bruising. His left wrist was in a cast almost up to the elbow, and he had various other bandages covering his chest and arms. Hawk was sure there were more bandages on his legs but they weren’t visible under the blanket covering his lower body.
Hawk panicked when he heard a beeping noise and looked at Garner.
“It’s okay,” Garner reassured him. “The IV is to keep him hydrated and to administer his medications. The other machines are monitoring his heart rate, breathing, blood pressure, and pulse rate, as well as his central venous pressure, or CVP, which reflects the amount of blood returning to the heart and the ability of the heart to pump the blood into the arterial system. And lastly”—Garner pointed to a bag hanging at the foot of the bed—“they will monitor his intake and output levels to make sure he stays hydrated and that fluids are passing through his system adequately.”
Grateful for the explanation, Hawk backed away from the bed and stared at the still figure lying in the bed.
“Talk to him,” Garner urged. “I, as well as many other doctors, believe the patient can sometimes hear you, even while in a drug-induced comatose state. Let him know you’re here and he’s all right.”
Hawk stepped up to the bed and took a deep breath. He had to be strong for Justin.
“Butt-Rah,” he said softly, taking Justin’s right hand. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but Garner and I are here. But don’t worry about anything. You’re going to be fine.”
Hawk’s voice started to crack and he looked away, not wanting Garner to see him losing it.
When he could speak again, Hawk continued. “You’re in the Neurointensive Care Unit and we can’t stay with you all the time, but I’ll be here as often as they allow me to. If you wake up and I’m not here, don’t worry. You’re not alone. I’ll be right outside in the waiting room.” Hawk paused to clear the lump that was forming in his throat. “They are going to take you down for an MRI shortly, and as soon as we get the results from the doctor, I’ll call your parents. I’m sure they’ll want to fly in and be here for you too.”
“Where are they?” Garner asked quietly.
“In California,” Hawk whispered. “Justin told me he was a late baby and that his parents were pretty up there in age now, although in good health.”
Dr. Bridges reentered the room just as Hawk heard a plastic bag on the bedside table ringing.
“That’s Mr. Morrison’s things,” Dr. Bridges said, gesturing toward the ringing bag. “You may want to take his cell phone and wallet with you for now.”
Hawk picked up the bag and held it in his hand. “I’ll just take it all until he needs it.”
The doctor nodded. “I’m sorry, gentlemen, but I’m afraid we’ll need to take some vitals before they take him down for the MRI.”
Taking Justin’s hand, Hawk said, “We have to go for right now, but I’ll be back as soon as they let me. Remember, you’re not alone.” He stopped when his voice started cracking again.
“Thanks, Doctor,” Garner said. “We appreciate everything.”
“I’ll come and get you as soon as I get the results of the MRI.”
Garner nodded as he took Hawk by the hand and led him out of the NICU.
When they reached the waiting room, Hank and Thompson were waiting for them.
All four men exchanged embraces, and Garner brought them up to speed on Justin’s condition while Hawk sat silently clutching the plastic bag tightly in his fingers.
“How about coffee?” Thompson asked.
“That would be great,” Garner said. “Hawk?”
“Yeah. Sure,” Hawk said without looking up.
“He takes it black,” Garner added.
Thompson and Hank disappeared down the hall in search of a coffee machine or the cafeteria, whichever they found first.
“You okay?” Garner asked, looking down at Hawk.
Hawk nodded but didn’t respond.
“I really need to pee,” Garner said. “Will you be okay until I get back?”
Hawk nodded again.
“I’l
l be right back. If the doctor comes out for any reason, do not go anywhere without me. Okay?”
“’Kay,” Hawk mumbled. He jumped to his feet and wrapped his arms around Garner’s neck, plastic bag still clenched between his fingers. “Thank you,” he said. “I don’t think I could have done this without you.”
“You won’t have to,” Garner said. “Like I said, I’m here as long as you need me.”
With that, Hawk released him, and Garner gave him a wink and took off in search of the bathroom.
Hawk rubbed his head. There was that tone again in Garner’s voice.
Hawk sat back down, and the plastic bag sounded again. From the annoying sound of ducks quacking, Hawk knew it was definitely Justin’s e-mail notification. He searched through the bag and found Justin’s cell phone. He pressed the e-mail icon, and Justin’s inbox popped up. He scanned the messages for anything important and saw that the last three were from Justin’s cyber boyfriend, Jeremy.
Hawk felt like a voyeur reading Justin’s private e-mail, but this was a unique situation, and suddenly feeling very protective of his best friend, he opened the first one and starting reading.
Dearest Ben, I’m looking so forward to finally meeting you tomorrow. It’s taken us far too long. I know that was my fault, but I couldn’t leave the ship. But just know I can’t wait!
Hawk shook his head. “Butt-rah, or should I say Ben, you little shit,” he said under his breath. “You finally decided to meet the guy in person and you didn’t even tell me.”
Hawk looked at the date. It had been sent last night while they were out. Holy shit! He’s coming today.
Hawk closed that message and opened the next.
Hey Ben, Haven’t heard from you since early last night. Is everything okay? XXOO, Jeremy.
“No, everything is not okay,” Hawk mumbled. Do I let the poor bastard know what’s going on or leave him hanging?
Not making a decision either way, Hawk closed that e-mail and opened the last one, which had come in thirty minutes ago while he and Garner were with Justin.
