by Leslie Gould
“He’s trying to cut down on his pain meds. Says he’s tired of being numb, says I’ve been overmedicating him and treating him like a baby.”
“Maybe I can help him figure out the dosage,” James said. “Sometimes it’s a hard balance to find.” He followed Melanie into the house. She veered to the left, toward the kitchen, and James stepped into the living room.
Joel glared at him from the bed. “What? You’re still coming around? I thought you would have quit by now too.” The young man’s dark curly hair was growing in on his left side where his head wound was and was just beginning to cover his scar. His face was hollow. He was a big-boned kid and tall.
Melanie had said Joel had lost thirty pounds since the accident, and James knew a lot of it had been muscle. The medical chart said the kid was six foot two; he was definitely too large for Melanie to transfer easily in and out of bed.
James took off his jacket and draped it over the straight-backed chair in the corner, ignoring Joel’s comment. “Heard you’re having some issues with your pain meds.” James stepped around to the side of the bed.
“You heard wrong.” Joel’s brown eyes were bloodshot and red-rimmed.
“What’s going on?” James picked up Joel’s pillbox. He hadn’t taken a pain pill since the one James had given him eighteen hours before. “Whoa, dude, you can’t go this long. Besides making life unbearable, it’s going to interfere with your healing.”
Joel stared at the ceiling. “I don’t want to get addicted to that stuff. I have a buddy who is. He was injured in Iraq just like me.”
“That’s a valid concern,” James said. “But your injuries are serious, and you’re early in your healing.”
Joel’s voice grew louder. “Well, addictions run in the family, if you know what I mean.”
James paused for a second and then said, “Could you elaborate on that?” He hadn’t read about any family addictions in Joel’s medical chart. Those questions had been left unmarked. He had no idea what Joel meant.
“Joel, honey,” Melanie said from the kitchen. “Don’t get riled up…” Her voice trailed off.
“Joel?” James coaxed.
The young man turned his face toward the wall. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Your family medical history is pertinent, Joel. I need more information to help you.”
James stepped closer, and Joel pulled something out from under the blankets, something metal and shiny. James saw it coming in slow motion, the bedpan coming at him like a Frisbee, or more like a flying saucer, flung with Joel’s good hand. James ducked and the bedpan bounced off a chair and onto the floor, liquid splattering out of it onto the carpet as it did.
Melanie rushed into the room. “Joel Morris!” she shouted. “We’ve had enough of that.”
Joel turned his face back to the wall and curled up into a fetal position. Melanie’s hands flew to her face and her shoulders began to convulse.
James patted her back. “Where are your cleaning supplies?” he asked.
“Under the sink. The carpet cleaner’s in the yellow can.”
Fifteen minutes later, James stood beside Joel’s bed, the daily pill dispenser in his hand. “We’re having a do-over here. How’s your pain right now? On a scale of one to ten.”
Joel stared at the ceiling. “Eight.”
“That’s way too high.” James opened the Friday flap on the pillbox. “I’ll cut the pill in half. If your pain isn’t down to a three in half an hour, you’ll need to take the other half.”
Joel kept staring at the ceiling, not responding.
James raised the hospital bed and then handed him the pain med, which Joel slipped into his mouth. James quickly passed him the bottle of water, before the young man changed his mind. Joel slowly swallowed the pill and then passed the bottle back to James.
“The lady from home health was out yesterday after you left. I think she was checking up on me.”
James winced.
“She said you used to be in the army.”
James nodded. “That’s how I got into nursing. I was a medic during the first Gulf War.”
“Boy, you had it easy.”
James didn’t answer. Joel was right. There was no comparing the two wars, none at all.
“How many soldiers did you lose?” Joel’s voice was rough.
“From my unit?”
“No, your squad.”
“None,” James answered. Only one person died in his unit and that was from a Humvee rollover.
“So you were in Iraq?”
James smiled. “No, Saudi Arabia.”
Joel snorted. “And you took a lot of fire there?”
“Not a lot, but there were a few Scud missile attacks.” He’d been stationed in Dhahran. No one in his unit had been killed, but twenty-five soldiers from other units had died in all. It had been one of the worst nights of his life, but paled in comparison to what Joel had been through.
“No IEDs though?” Joel still wasn’t looking at James.
Improvised explosive devices. The bane of the coalition in Iraq.
“Negative,” James answered.
Joel snorted again.
James needed to get Joel’s mind off the war. “Have you had breakfast?”
Joel shook his head. “Not hungry.”
“Well, it’s shower day. You need some food in your stomach and your pain under control. What would you like to eat?”
“Nothing.”
“Then I’ll choose.” James headed into the kitchen. Melanie leaned against the counter, a cup of coffee in her hand, staring out the window over the sink. She’d retreated down the hall right after her reaction to Joel’s outburst, and James hadn’t heard her return. She startled when James stepped into the room.
“Sorry,” he said.
“What do you need?” she asked.
“Breakfast for Joel.”
“He said he wasn’t hungry.”
“He still needs to eat.”
Melanie put her cup down. “He refuses nearly everything I fix for him.”
“How about something easy? And a glass of juice.”
Melanie opened the cupboard to her right, and James spotted a box of granola bars. “One of those would be perfect,” he said.
“He was on a feeding tube at Walter Reed,” Melanie said, handing a bar to James. “I keep wondering if he needs to go back on one.”
James shook his head. “Let’s see how he does in the next few days.” He’d been getting most of his calories from supplement drinks, but he needed solid food too.
She opened the fridge and pulled out a small box of apple juice. “He used to like these when he was a kid.” Melanie’s eyes were teary as she turned to James. “I bought some the other day, remembering…” Her voice trailed off again.
“I know this is hard for you,” James said.
Melanie sighed. “Compared to what Joel’s going through, it shouldn’t be.”
“Life isn’t like that,” James answered. “You’re all in this together.”
“Both Gary and I took time off when Joel was injured—first we flew to Germany, and then we stayed with him at Walter Reed. Used up all of our vacation time. Now I’m taking a leave of absence.” James already knew that Melanie was an accountant for the school district and her husband was a farm-equipment salesman who traveled a lot. “Gary’s stressed out too. It shows in his job.” Her eyes wandered back to the window. “And the VA has been slow to pay what they said they would.”
James could imagine how disheartening it would be to wait for the US Department of Veterans Affairs to come through.
Melanie turned back toward James. “I’m sorry. You don’t need to be burdened with our problems.”
“No,” James said. “I do. Knowing what’s going on for all of you will help me take better care of Joel.” Besides it put his own problems into perspective. “Joel mentioned something about addictions running in the family.”
As he spoke Melanie turned a
way from him. “Like prescription drug addictions?”
“I’m not sure,” James said.
She glanced back toward him. “Do you think he’s concerned about getting addicted to his pills?”
“It seems that way. He mentioned a buddy—”
“Joel has always been a good kid.” She interrupted him again. “He never even drank, let alone did drugs.”
That was good to know. “I’ll talk to him again,” James said. “Try to see what he was talking about. I’ll explain to him the difference between legitimate pain medication and substance abuse too. Controlling pain actually speeds the healing process.”
Melanie nodded and whispered, “Thank you.”
“Now about that bedpan.”
Melanie grimaced. “I forgot he still had it. I’ve been trying to keep it in the bathroom and only give it to him when he needs it.”
“Good,” James said. He knew it was hard for her to help her son in and out of bed. “While I’m here, he won’t be using the bedpan at all. We’ll be working on the wheelchair transfers until he can do them by himself.”
She nodded.
James continued. “How does your day look? Do you have errands to run? Things to do in town? It would probably be good for you to spend some time out of the house.”
“What if he loses his temper?”
“I can deal with it.” James had been reading up on post-traumatic stress disorder and knew it was a possibility Joel suffered from it. He knew to expect the unexpected. He smiled at Melanie, hoping to encourage her. “You should take some time for yourself.”
She hesitated and then said she thought she would. “I have my cell. The number’s on the piece of paper taped to Joel’s bedside table. Call if you need me.”
When he returned to the hospital bed, Joel had his eyes closed.
“How’s the pain?” James asked, unwrapping the granola bar.
“Better.”
“Here’s some breakfast.” James placed the bar in Joel’s good hand. It was easier for Joel to eat than a bowl of cereal or eggs. The kid was probably tired of having his mom try to feed him.
Joel opened his eyes and ate half the bar and then handed it back to James, who placed the box of juice with the straw in place in his hand. He drained the juice in no time.
“Ready for that shower?”
Joel nodded.
“Need more pain meds?”
Joel shook his head, but James noted that the young man’s jaw was clenched as he did.
An hour later, James pulled Joel’s wheelchair backward over the small ramp that had been installed on both sides of the patio door. The rain had stopped and the clouds had rolled back, revealing blue sky. The Morrises’ property was five miles out of town on an acreage that butted up against Crooked Creek. The hanging, budding branches of weeping willows swayed in the distance. Between the house and the creek was a sloping lawn with a plot for a garden on the side, which hadn’t yet been tilled, and a rose garden on the other. The bushes were scraggly and overgrown and should have been pruned well over a month ago. Melanie and Gary Morris would have been at Walter Reed in Washington, DC, about that time, still hoping their son would survive.
“I used to play down by the creek for hours when I was a kid,” Joel said. “Catching frogs. Pretending I was an Indian scout. Fishing.”
James pulled a plastic chair that was tucked under the eaves of the house out by Joel’s chair, pleased that Joel was sharing about his childhood. “Did you catch anything?”
“Frogs.” A hint of a smile passed over his face. “Never any fish.”
“How about your dad?”
“What about my dad?” Joel’s eyes were focused on the creek.
“Did he catch any fish?”
Joel gave James a sideways glance but in a second his eyes were back on the creek. “You don’t know my dad.”
James waited for more of a response but none came. They sat in silence for a moment until James decided that now was as good a time as any. “About that bedpan this morning—”
“It didn’t hit you. If I’d wanted it to, it would have.”
“Okay.” He’d assumed the other flying bedpans hadn’t hit the other home health care nurses, but now he wasn’t so sure. “Listen, Joel, no more of that. If you’re frustrated, let me know.”
Joel crossed his arms and dropped his eyes.
“Joel?” James tilted his head.
“I hear you, man.” His voice was snarly.
“And the other thing we need to discuss—”
“What are you? The gestapo?”
“—is your pain medication.”
“Hey.” Joel whipped his head up and met James’s eyes. “Believe me, I know. They went over it at Walter Reed, okay?”
“I need to be sure you’re clear about the difference between abusing prescription pain meds and managing your pain.”
“I know plenty of people who ended up with an addiction without ever intending to.”
“Well, sure,” James said. “But let’s concentrate on your pain meds. Managing your pain will help you heal sooner.”
“Blah, blah, blah,” Joel said. “I’ve heard this before.”
“So what exactly is your concern?” James asked.
“Who said I had a concern?” The expression on Joel’s face matched his smart remark. Now he was messing with James, on purpose.
“Actually, you did.”
Joel stared at James a moment and then shrugged, saying, “Take me in, would ya?”
After turning him around, James opened the patio door and wheeled him back into the house.
“My dad says I need to buck up and take this like a man.” Joel balled his good hand into a fist as James transferred him back to his bed.
James took a deep breath. The young man was less than six years older than Gideon. “Hmm. That’s one perspective. Another is that you need time to grieve everything you’ve lost. Don’t minimize what’s happened to you, okay, Joel? You’ve taken a hit. Grieve, but keep moving forward. Everything you eat, every hour you sleep, every positive thought that goes through your head will help you heal.”
Joel’s eyes flashed. “You know what I thought I liked about you?”
James couldn’t help but notice Joel’s use of past tense. “What?”
“I didn’t think you were bossy and controlling like those other nurses. But you proved me wrong today.” Joel turned his head away from James. After a few minutes his chest began to rise and fall rhythmically. James sat in the chair in the corner and wrote in Joel’s chart. In a few more months, Missy said each nurse who worked for Tender Loving Health Care would carry a laptop and do all of their charting on it. It was a mystery to James why Missy could get a grant and figure out financing for the needed changes but Hope Haven couldn’t. He sighed and hoped the advisory committee had made some progress.
When James was done, he stood at the patio door and watched the creek. It was running high from the spring melt and the rain. He could imagine Joel as a boy playing along the bank and splashing in the water. He’d always wanted acreage in the country for his boys, but it wasn’t meant to be. He sighed. So many things in life weren’t meant to be. But he was more than thankful for what was.
Joel slept for an hour and then at lunchtime, James made him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and grabbed another juice box. The young man ate without comment and then took his meds without protesting, including the pain pill.
“Do you keep in touch with your unit?” James asked, taking the water bottle from Joel.
“Yep. They have two weeks left. My chaplain e-mails me every day.” Joel smiled a little. “He keeps saying he’s going to come visit as soon as he can.”
When James heard Melanie come through the front door, he told Joel he would be back on Monday morning. “And your physical therapist will be here too.”
“That sounds like fun.” Joel’s frown matched his sarcasm.
As James walked to his car, he noticed the fr
ont hedge that needed to be trimmed and the debris that had collected in the yard from the winter storms. He imagined that under normal circumstances the Morris place was in good shape. As he backed out of the drive, he wondered how many other families there were in the area with disabled vets. He didn’t imagine there were many. In fact, the Morrises might be the only one. He hadn’t heard of any others. The family had sacrificed so much and would continue to. Their whole lives had been changed.
On the way into town, his cell phone rang. He checked the screen quickly. It was Cody. He’d been waiting for her to return his call for days. He pulled over and flipped the phone open to speaker.
They exchanged hellos, and then Cody got right down to business. “I really need to get that loan paid off,” she said. “It’s eating up all my reserves.” He knew his childhood friend was sincere.
“I understand, Cody. I really do.” James rubbed the back of his neck.
“You don’t know how much it pains me to say this.” She stopped.
James could only imagine. She’d been nothing but generous with them.
She continued, “You can rent the house until I find a buyer.” She paused and then added, “I just hope with all my heart that buyer will be you.”
Monday, James left the Morris home before the physical therapist arrived because she was running late. He stopped by the grocery store and picked up spaghetti sauce and pasta for dinner. Thankfully they already had ground beef in the freezer. There was a special on French bread for ninety-nine cents a loaf so he picked up two of those. He’d use the second one for French toast in the morning.
He was thankful that Fern’s MS had started in her forties, at a time when it was easier to handle traumatic changes, and not in her twenties when they were trying to establish themselves. They had been married for years and already had children. Both had good jobs.
Joel had all the uncertainties of life ahead of him.
As he drove home, he thought again about the needs of the Morris family. Tonight was Nelson’s Boy Scout meeting. The troop needed to come up with a service project. Helping the Morrises would be good for the family and the troop. The war seemed so far away to the average American and even more so to the average teenager. Joel would bring it a little closer.
