by Dave Balcom
“Judy misses you, but she’s doing fine.”
I took all this in, but was focused on the fact that I had been missing in action for two weeks! “Whew! Doc, what’s the prognosis?”
Stands came back into my view. “It’s too soon to tell for sure, but your being awake makes full recovery a possibility. You lost a bunch of blood from internal bleeding when your ribs punctured your lungs. Also, you suffered a serious back injury when you hit the floor, and while nothing was severed there, we did repair some cracked vertebrae and reattached several ligaments. That’s why you’re in a neck brace and full-body traction. You also had a dislocated shoulder, but that’ll just require physical therapy. In fact, I’m guessing that once we get you up and around, PT is going to be a major focus in your life for a while.”
I tried to take this all in, but as I listened I started to feel very tired. “Doc, I’m fading, am I all right?”
“Getting better is hard wor…” he said as I drifted off to sleep.
3
I came out of this sleep more like my normal process. I was aware that I was in a room and not alone before I opened my eyes. The half light of dawn was marking the blinds on the window, and I turned my head.
The movement was different than what I had experienced before, and I realized I had no tubes in my mouth. I also realized that I wasn’t in the same room as the one I had been in before.
I tried to rise up on an elbow, but felt a restraint. I thought back and remembered that I was in some kind of body traction. I took an inventory of my sensations: I was absent any pain other than a sore throat. I didn’t feel like I was medicated out of my mind, so I wondered if my wounds had pretty much healed. Two weeks! I wondered if I’d heard that yesterday or had I slept more.
Then I figured they wouldn’t have transferred me out of the ICU if I had lapsed back into a coma. The whole process of trying to figure out what was happening had me upset in just seconds. I willed myself to take control and my pulse pulled back into a more normal pace.
I waited about a half an hour before the door cracked open and a pretty young nurse stuck her head in to check on things. I raised an eyebrow at her, and she smiled a bit and then looked across the room where I couldn’t see.
“What?” I whispered.
“Miss Coldwell,” she whispered back, nodding across the room. “She’s sleeping.”
“I’m happy for her, but I have to pee. Can I get up?”
“No, you’re still hooked up; just let’er go.”
She giggled softly at the look of contentment that must have appeared on my face. I asked her, “What day is it?”’
“Thursday.”
“I woke up yesterday?”
She nodded. “Then you went back to sleep and they took you off life support and put you in this private room. You have the Oregon State Police camped outside your door twenty-four seven. You should feel safe.”
“I’d feel safe if I could get up and walk.”
“That’ll start today, I think. I see PT is scheduled to be here at nine, a couple hours now.” Her eyes flickered to the other side of the room. She mouthed without sound, “I’m sorry.”
Jan answered her. “That’s okay. If he’s awake I want to be here, too.”
I heard her getting up, and then she walked to the bathroom and closed the door. The nurse came all the way in, fluffed my pillow, checked my monitor, made a couple notes on my chart and silently left me alone.
Jan came out of the bathroom wiping her hands on a towel. She came over and sat on the edge of my bed, leaned down and kissed me on the lips. “That’s better without all that other hardware, but you do need a shave.”
“I’ll lodge a complaint.”
“No doubt,” she answered with the familiar chuckle in her voice. “What’s your chi telling you right now?
“I need to walk. I need some answers. I need to see Jack Nelson…”
“Oh, shit. I’ll get him right now.”
“He’s here?”
“No, but I promised him I’d call him as soon as you were coherent. You are coherent aren’t you?”
“’Bout as much as I ever am. I’m hungry, too.”
“That’s great. I’ll share that news with the staff. They told me the first sign of a recovery process like this is hunger. You’re off to a good start.”
The doctor was explaining that they were going to have me up and around today under the watchful eye of Raymond the physical therapist. “We all call him the ‘Squat Nazi,’” he said.
“What? Is he short and fat?”
“No, he’s thin and fit to a disgusting degree. Well, you’ll understand the nickname in time, I’m sure. In any event, today you’re going to walk around the room. Later today you’re going to walk to the window at the end of the hall. Tomorrow morning you’re going to walk one lap around the floor we’re on.
“In the meantime, Raymond is going to start putting the full range of motion back into your left shoulder and starting you on a regimen of stretching exercises that will do you a great deal of good.
“Before you get to all that walking, we’re going to take out the rest of the tubes and I’m going to do a grand examination to make sure we haven’t missed anything. This is going to take an hour or so. I hear you have company, so I’m going to tell them to come back around noon. Okay?”
“Doc, if Jack Nelson is out there, I’d like five minutes with him before we start.”
“Nice try, but no stalling. This is going to hurt, strain and test you. It won’t be easier five minutes from now. Nurse, let’s get the tubes out of him.”
4
Raymond was a ginger-haired gnome of a man of indeterminate age – somewhere between thirty and fifty – with a gymnast’s lively spring in his step and a stand-up comic’s lively smile.
“I hear you’re into tai chi chuan,” Raymond said as he pulled the hospital gown off my left shoulder, and raised my arm to the horizontal position. I was sitting in a chair, thinking quiet, meditative thoughts about my center, my breathing and my pulse.
“Does this hurt?” He asked as he started to rotate my arm down and back. At the bottom of the move, as my hand started turning upward, I winced and he stopped. “Let’s go the other way,” he said as he returned my arm to the horizontal, palm-up position we had started at. “We’re not here to find out how much pain you can handle, Jim. When it hurts, even a twinge, you need to tell me.”
He started the arm up and back like we were going to throw a football. It got all the way to vertical before the pain hit.
“That’s not bad,” he said as he put my arm down at my side. “You’ve got something like sixty degrees of rotation right now. We’ll put some heat and manipulation on it after we take a walk. You ready?”
I put my hands on the chair in preparation for rising, but he stopped me. “I want you to use a walker right now.” He pulled the walker from behind me, and placed it where I could use it to stand up. “I’m going to help lift you to the walker, Jim,” he said as he put his hands under my armpits from the rear. “Ready? Let’s go.”
His strength was amazing, because as much as I was telling my legs to flex, and my arms to pull, I wouldn’t have made it to my feet without his boost.
“There, tall guy. How do you feel?”
I let a wave of dizziness pass, and realized I was huffing a bit and my pulse was pounding. “Tall.”
“That’s normal after lazing around on your back for a couple of weeks. How’s the pain in your genital area? I heard you took a big shot there from the attacker.”
I mentally examined myself for pain. “No discomfort now.”
“Great! Of course at your age, who cares if the boys go into retirement, right?”
I turned my head to look down at him and found him staring me in the eye. “There may be a couple of people who care.”
“That’s great,” he said with a gleeful chuckle. “There’s a little fire left in the hole, and you’re going to need it. So, l
et’s see if we can walk from here to the john, okay?
I stood there for a long minute, willing my left foot to step forward, but my leg seemed more intent on making sure I didn’t fall down. Finally, I bent the knee forward, felt my heel rise a bit, and I shuffled my slipper ahead a few inches.
“One very small step for Jim; a giant stride for physical therapy everywhere,” he deadpanned.
I pushed the walker ahead a few inches and found my right foot following in a more normal step. I pushed the walker again for my left foot and that worked even better. “Hey, a quick learner. Let’s celebrate!”
It took just under 10 minutes to walk to the bathroom, all of 15 feet. “Way to go, partner. As your reward, you can relieve yourself right there in the pot; just don’t piss on my walker.”
I fumbled with my gown, but nothing happened.
“What’s the matter? Can’t perform in front of an audience? Tough shit, my man. You’re nowhere near a solo. Pee or, you know.” Nothing happened at my end. “Let’s turn around and go back to bed.”
The return trip took even longer, and my arms were shaking as I backed into the bed, let the walker go, and fell back onto the mattress.
“You waitin’ for me to put your legs up on the mattress, Jim?” After I failed to respond, he continued, “That’s not going to happen until you’ve given it a big time shot on your own. And, that’s the way it’s always going to be from here on out. There’ll be no assist until you’ve tried, really tried to go it alone. Okay?”
I was too gassed to talk. I nodded, and then tried to leverage my right leg up on the mattress. When it got there, I tried to roll hard to my right, hoping to bring my left leg with it, but it didn’t happen. Instead, my butt started sliding off the mattress and I was spread-eagled, helpless.
“That was a great try,” he said as he lifted my left leg up onto the mattress and then with both hands shoved my butt and torso fully onto the bed. “This gives you some idea of what’s in store for you, Mr. Stanton. But I think you’re game, and together we’ll take that first lap around the floor yet.”
A nurse came into the room, and he backed away, leaving me to her. She gave me a drink of water and a pill. I shut my eyes and went away for a couple hours.
When I woke up blurry-eyed and thirsty, I found Jack, Shirlee, and Jan all sitting around the bed. Jan helped me get a straw going, and then brought me a damp washcloth to wipe my face.
Jack stood at the foot of the bed, beaming as he watched me. As I handed the washcloth to Jan, I started talking without looking at my neighbor, “I’d really appreciate it if you’d stop standing there feeling proud of yourself and come down here where I can hug you and tell you how grateful I am; can ya do that?”
His smile didn’t diminish a bit as he shuffled around the bed. He stuck out his hand, and I grabbed it, and then pulled him down into my best bear hug – the pain in my shoulder was stabbing, but I didn’t let on. I kept clapping him on the back with my left hand as I held him.
After minutes, he pulled away. “Easy, big guy. I’m too old for very much of that physical stuff.”
“I can’t help it. I thought I was a goner, and then, there you were, like the angel of death fighting to save me.”
Jack had never been the kind of guy who needed people to tell him when he was right, and as I talked, he actually looked down at his feet. “They came up to our house at the end of the road,” he began softly as he started to explain the day.
“I saw them as they turned around, and, you know, that kind of thing happens all the time despite the ‘dead end’ sign at the corner. But these guys, they pulled over to the edge of the road less than half way back to your place, and so I watched and saw them get out. The little guy was the passenger, and when they started towards your house, and he was carrying that shotgun, well, I just went to the garage, got my Taurus, and followed them.
“I knew you weren’t home. They went round the back, and I started that way, heard you pull into the driveway and started back towards you when the little guy came to the end of the deck, like he heard something, you know? I stood there without moving by that fir you love so much, and finally he went inside.
“I hurried to your truck, but you’d already gone around back, and then I heard you come in the kitchen. I got your key from under the step, unlocked the door, and then eased it open just as I heard the little guy give the other guy the word to bust you up.
“I stepped into the room, and the little guy turned and smiled. I raised my gun and shot him in the chest...”
“I saw you,” I interjected. “You had perfect form, knees slightly bent; arms flexed but solid... good form.”
He resumed, “I thought that huge man was going to kill me before he died. I’ve been thinking ever since. I couldn’t believe he kept coming. That’s a three-fifty-seven magnum, man. I couldn’t believe it...”
“Did you hear if he was on crystal meth? Sometimes that stuff will turn a guy into Superman.”
He cocked his head at me. “No, I didn’t hear one way or another. But still, I’m thinking about that guy all the time.”
I looked at Shirlee. “PTSD?”
She shook her head.
Jack had a funny little smile on his face, “Jim, you know what I’ve been thinking?”
“No, Jack. But I’m curious to the point of being worried.”
“You don’t need to worry about an old retired soil scientist. But I’ve been thinking about that guy...
“You mean the big guy, Atlas?”
“...yeah, that’s the guy. He’s got me thinking that maybe I’ll trade that Taurus in for a forty-four mag. You know?”
I started to laugh. “You know, that’s not a bad idea. Maybe I can help you with that, my friend.”
He came back to being the Jack I’d come to rely on with a shake of his head like a dog shedding water, “Then, again, I don’t plan on ever having to fire any weapon in a situation like that. I guess I’ll keep a weapon that hits where I’m looking.”
“That’s not a bad thought, either, Jack.”
About that moment, Raymond the physical therapist poked his head into the room. “Okay, break it up. I’ve only got a certain amount of time to torture this old man, so out, all of you.”
I groaned, Jan giggled, and Jack and Shirlee made a dash for the door.
“See you, Jim,” Shirlee called. “You don’t have to share those cookies with anyone; I left a batch at the nurse’s station.” The door bumped closed, and cut her off. Jan came round to my side of the bed and put her hand on my cheek. “I’ll check on you in the morning.”
At the door, she turned to Raymond with a familiar glint in her eye, “You don’t make him cry at least once, and you get no cookies.”
“As you wish, madam.”
The door closed, and Raymond was pulling off the bed clothes. “Up and at ’em, James. You have friends to impress and to heal for. Let’s not waste time.”
I groaned, but I knew he was right, and I knew the road back to my normal life was going to take commitment and effort. I couldn’t wait to be able to bounce out of a bed.
5
The last day before becoming an out-patient was exhausting and painful. Raymond the physical therapist was earning his title as the “Squat Nazi.”
“I expect you to do these squats over a chair every day, no fewer than three sets of twenty each day until I see you again on Friday. Then you’ll go to four sets, and then five.”
“That sounds impossible,” I said as I managed to complete ten squats in a row. “I don’t think I can do twenty at one time.”
“Of course not now. But the set ends on your twentieth squat, not on some time table. And your third set ends on the sixtieth squat. I don’t care if it takes all day. Just remember to do your stretches before you work out and after. If you take an hour to recover during your squats, stretch for ten minutes before you rest and then ten minutes before you resume. Keep a journal. I’ll want to see it when you come each tim
e. Okay?”
I worked on in silence, feeling the muscles in my back, thighs and hips quiver with the action of the squat. Throwing my butt back before I flexed my knees and throwing my hands forward, squatting as if to sit down, stopping before my fanny hit the chair, holding it there for seconds then straightening back to a standing position: Squat twenty.
“That’s it for today. You are making great progress for a whiney old man. Today’s walk was real positive. Be sure you walk at home every day – I know, I know, it’s not tai chi walking, but those forms will have to wait.”
I nodded as I sat at the edge of my bed.
“Nurse said you could take a shower after I’m gone, and she’s got street clothes that Jan brought down yesterday. Then I thought we’d walk down and have lunch before you go, okay?”
I looked at Raymond and smiled. “I’ll try not to fall asleep in my soup.”
“You can’t sleep! Jan and Jack will be here at two to take you home. It’s movin’ time!”
I could hear him laughing as the door swung closed, and I limped into the bathroom for my first unassisted shower. As I walked past the mirror in the bathroom, I caught a glimpse of myself and what I saw was disturbing.
I stopped and studied the reflection. My hair needed cutting; it curled over my ears. My eyebrows were shaggy, and my face was gaunt. I had an overall haggard look. My blue eyes looked back at me without mirth, almost dull.
“Whew,” I said to my reflection, “you sure look a prize. I think I better clean up or Jan’ll be having second thoughts.” I tried to smile at the reflection, but I couldn’t pull it off.
6
The trial had gone on without me, and the day after I was released from the hospital, on June twenty-third, I was back in the Federal Courthouse in Pendleton, taking an oath and answering the questions.
After a thorough recounting of my experience in the woods that day for the prosecution, the defense attorney, a guy from Los Angeles, asked me three routine questions. I answered them wondering why he was asking, and then I was sent away.
