As Jennifer was leaving the room, a nurse named Karen came in to talk to Michael. “After I give you a bath, they are going to take you for some X-rays, and then when you get back, we are going to move you into a Stryker frame bed. This bed will allow us to turn you without disturbing the traction, which will help with your circulation and reduce the chances of decubitus ulcers.” Seeing the confused look on Michael’s face, she explained, “Bed sores.”
“Okay,” was all Michael could say.
After the X-rays were completed, Michael was returned to his room, where Karen and a Stryker frame bed were waiting for him. He was lifted onto the bed by the two men who transported him back from X-ray as Karen made sure the traction device moved with him. She explained how the bed worked as she and another nurse moved a stretcher-like device on top of him. There was an open space for his face, but the rest of his body was covered. They lined up the stretcher with two bolts on the bed and began to tighten butterfly screws to the stretcher. Once it was secure, she asked if he was ready to flip over so they could put some lotion and powder on his backside and relieve the pressure.
The look on Michael’s face made them stop to explain the process in a bit more detail.
“The two bolts have secured you to the stretcher. There are two steering wheel-like handles on either end, and we will turn them quickly and you will flip over like a pancake onto your stomach.” She cautioned him, “But you will want to make sure whoever turns you later secures both of those bolts and that there are two nurses here when you get turned. ”
“Has anyone ever fallen out of this bed?”
“Sadly, it has happened before but not on my watch,” Karen replied. “You will stay on your stomach for about thirty minutes as long as you can breathe okay. Are you ready to be a pancake?”
Before Michael could finish the word “okay,” he was on his stomach. He was a little light-headed, but that quickly passed as he surveyed the change of scenery. Instead of staring at the white false ceiling with black dots, he was staring at off-white industrial tile flooring with little specs of black and gold. With Michael securely on his stomach, Karen adjusted some screws that were now facing her and was able to raise the mattress off of him and then applied some lotion and powder to his back and buttock area. “The upside of this bed is that you get a back massage every two hours.”
After thirty minutes Karen reattached the screws so the mattress was secured to Michael, and the two nurses flipped him back over on his back and then removed the stretcher.
“That wasn’t so bad now was it?” Karen asked.
“Probably not from your point of view, but I do feel like a pancake.”
The Battaglias and the Harrises met at the Eastern Airline concourse in Philadelphia. After embracing each other, a monsoon of tears and emotions gushed out. Frank Mancuso took charge. He gently and patiently led the group to baggage claim and then to the train that came to the airport. No one spoke during the short train ride, which dropped the terrified family out directly in front of Jefferson. They walked into the hospital, where Mary called Jennifer.
As soon as Michael’s family arrived at the hospital, they were quickly ushered into a quiet waiting room filled with people wearing tear-stained expressions on their faces—a room pregnant with nervous energy and desperate anticipation. Occasionally, an unprovoked cry or a muffled sob could be heard from someone in the room. Suddenly, the solemnity of the room was violated by a scream of utter despair that pierced the air and seared itself on their souls. The disturbance from down the hall was a clear indication that someone from this newly-formed fraternity of strangers just received some devastating news. Although this got the attention of everyone in the room, no one spoke except for one mournful, “Oh my God.” But still, Michael’s family maintained their white-knuckled grasp on their fading hope.
Jennifer came into the waiting room and moved the family into a conference room. She went through her packet and answered everyone’s questions. She added, “I have included a map of Centre City Philadelphia with all the historic sites.” Carm’s look must have expressed, We aren’t here for a sightseeing tour, so Jennifer continued, “After the surgery, when Michael is in therapy, many families get out of the hospital for a while and see the city. Oh, another FYI, the best cheesesteak place in town is right across the street.” Everyone politely smiled.
Dr. Steele and Dr. Keller, a psychiatrist, walked into the room. After the introductions, Dr. Steele repeated the explanation she had given to Michael. Mary changed from sister to counselor and started asking Dr. Steele about the rehabilitation process. Dr. Steele explained, “After the surgery we will know more. As you know, Mary, generally with this type of injury, I expect Michael to be at Jefferson for about two months, and then he will transfer to Magee Rehabilitation Hospital, which is about four blocks from here, where the real rehab occurs. They have physical, occupational, social, and psychological counselors at Magee. They will teach Michael to work with whatever limitations he has.”
“I want to be directly involved with his rehabilitation program,” Mary said with a tone that was more of a command than a request.
Dr. Keller said, “I will set up a meeting between you and all the appropriate services. Most of them already know you by reputation and are looking forward to working with you. I will be meeting with Michael later today and will update you tomorrow.”
Donna asked, “When are you going to operate?”
Dr. Steele answered, “The surgery will occur as soon as the blood clot in his leg has dissipated. This can be between two to five days. Until then we will keep Michael as comfortable and stable as possible.”
Dr. Keller then explained, “We will bring you to see Michael shortly. I spoke with him this morning, and I want to prepare you for what you are going to see. The doctors placed Michael in traction to stabilize his spinal column. To do this they put screws into his head and attached weights to keep his head and neck still. After the surgery the doctors will connect a halo device...”
At that point Carm was unsuccessful at stifling her tears. “Mom, this is normal,” Mary reassured her and held her hand.
Dr. Keller continued, “His body is swollen from the trauma. He will not look like himself. He is very worried about all of you. The most important thing he needs from his family is your love and support. It’s like when he was a baby. If you show fear or panic, he will too.” Dr. Keller, seeing the look of devastation on everyone’s faces, added, “This is one of the most traumatic things a family can experience. We are all here to help not only Michael, but all of you. ”
Mary stated, “We understand. When can we see Michael?”
Jennifer answered, “I will take you to see Michael right now.”
After the nurses bathed him and changed Michael’s hospital gown, they placed his call button in his hand. Finally alone with his thoughts, Michael prepared himself to deal with his temporary helplessness. Someone was going to have to feed him, bring him a bedpan, and clean him. The idea of being helpless, even on a temporary basis, saddened and depressed him. He allowed himself a little bit of justifiable self-pity. What is going to happen with Donna? His thoughts were interrupted when Karen walked in and announced, “Your family is here. Jennifer, your social worker, is bringing them to your room now.”
As the family entered the room, Michael saw the worry in their eyes that they tried to mask behind their smiles. Michael tried to ease their concerns by rolling his hands around each other in front of himself and then threw one over his shoulder, and then he rolled them again and threw the other hand over the other shoulder like the famous samba dancer Carmen Miranda. “Doesn’t anyone else want to dance?” he asked. This helped to relieve some of the tension. He quickly added, “Wow, this is quite a crowd. Is there anyone left back at the reunion?”
Jennifer told everyone she would be back in an hour to help the family get into the dormitory.
They made small talk for a few minutes. Mary explained that they had seen Dr
. Steele and how helpful everyone at Jefferson had been. This made Michael relax. When it was time to leave, everyone left Donna alone with Michael for a few minutes.
“I’m so sorry I am putting you through this, Donna. I know it wasn’t what you signed up for.”
“Through what?” Donna said, feigning surprise. “We talked about spending a weekend in Philly to do some shopping without sales tax. So we’ll do it this weekend. Don’t you worry about me; you focus on you.”
“How long is your mom going to stay?”
“I think she will go home in the morning. Your family has been wonderful. We are all going to stay at the dorms.”
“Can you call Aces and let them know what happened? I think they figured out I won’t be in Dover anytime soon,” Michael laughed.
“I called them this morning. They all wished you the best and said they will get all the insurance stuff together quickly. Should I call Vince at Marshalls?”
“No, not yet. I will call them after the surgery when we know more.”
“Okay, sweetie, I think we are all going to our dorm orientation. I feel like I’m back in college.” Donna leaned over and kissed him. “They said we could come back at dinner time and help you eat.”
“Good. Bring strawberries and a can of whipped cream like we did over the weekend,” Michael said seductively.
“I will bring the whipped cream and lick it off of places that you have only dreamed of, and then I will BLOW your mind,” she said with a super-sized grin.
“Wow,” was all Michael could say, followed by, “Great sexual innuendo. ”
“In my what?” Donna replied with fake indignation. “Wait a minute, buddy. That is where I draw the line. After all I am a lady,” then she added after a very short pause, “Sometimes.”
“Well-played, my lady .”
Chapter 7
The Waiting Is the Hardest Part
The endless parade of people entering Michael’s room continued. As soon as Donna left, Judy Henley appeared and introduced herself as Michael’s physical therapist. She wasn’t very tall and leaned over the bed to get into his vision as she flashed a dazzling smile. As Michael looked at her face, he thought she could be the Ivory Soap girl. She had a very striking complexion even without wearing any makeup. He was thinking, She looks Italian, but Henley doesn’t sound Italian. She explained her role and that once the clot thinned, she would be working with him to keep his legs flexible, but she would be starting work on his arms and wrists Tuesday. She conducted the same arm and wrist tests that Dr. Steele did earlier in the day. She was also pleased with the strength Michael displayed.
“We can get this left arm back to the same as your right. That will be our focus for the next few days. I’m guessing you are right-handed?”
Michael started to nod his answer but was restrained by the traction. “Yes, I am.”
“I got a phone call this morning from a former classmate of mine from physical therapy school. I think you know her. ”
“Why would I know your former classmate?” Michael asked with a puzzled look on his face.
With a big smile on her face she said, “I went to Daeman College in Buffalo and graduated in 1982. Do you know anyone that went to Daeman at that time?”
Michael couldn’t figure out why this had anything to do with him and continued looking puzzled.
“I went to school with your cousin Sandy Battaglia. She said her mom called her this morning to tell her about your accident. We keep in touch, and she knew I worked here and asked if I can check on you. And because you are a relative of a friend, I asked if I could be your therapist.”
“Wow! It really is a small world, isn’t it? News travels fast in the Battaglia network.”
“We Italians need to stick together.”
“I thought you looked Italian, but Henley is not Italian.”
“I’m only half. My mom is full-blooded Italian, and I really took after that side. My brother looks more like my dad’s side.”
“I’m glad you will be working with me,” he said as he clumsily tried to put his hand out to shake hers.
She grabbed his hand and said, “I’ll be back tomorrow and we will get started.”
The next person to arrive was Dennis O’Sullivan, the occupational therapist. He certainly looked Irish, with red hair, pale-white skin, and freckles. He was tall enough not to have to get on his toes to get into Michael’s vision. He also conducted the bicep, tricep, and wrist tests as well and explained his role was to teach Michael how to use the muscles and strength he had to do fine motor skills like eating, brushing your teeth, shaving, and combing your hair with the limitations presented. He explained that there are lots of adaptive devices to assist in this area.
Before he left he said, “We will be a bit limited until your clot is gone and you have surgery. You will be amazed by what we can do these days once we get to the therapy gym. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
At this point Michael figured someone else would be wandering in at any moment. He really didn’t have enough time to process all the information being thrown at him. And of course Karen returned with Dr. Henler and a respiratory therapist to check Michael’s breathing. They had the same instrument used at the previous hospital. Although he was pleased with the readings, Dr. Henler ordered breathing treatments for Michael.
“Because you will be lying down until the clot thins out, we want to make sure you don’t get pneumonia. That is a big risk for patients who can’t get up and move around. Right now we will order one before bedtime and one when you get up in the morning,” Dr. Henler explained. “We will let you get some rest before dinner.”
Michael was beginning to understand why no one ever gets better in a hospital, especially ICU. There was the nonstop parade of people coming and going. Karen seemed to appear every fifteen minutes to check the IV, add Coumadin (the blood-thinning medicine), and check his blood pressure, temperature, and pulse rate. Machines beep nonstop, and the ICU rooms are rather small with large windows and doors so the nurses can see into all the rooms from their side of the nurse’s station with one quick glance.
Michael was finally alone for about thirty minutes and tried to remember the conversations with Dr. Steele and the other medical personnel popping in and out. The one thing he did piece together was that everyone was pleased with his arm strength and wrist movement, and they all seemed to focus their attention in that one area. There wasn’t much mentioned about his legs, and when he asked about being able to move them, he got the standard answer, “It’s too soon to tell,” from everyone.
At 3:15 p.m., a nurse named Ellen appeared in Michael’s room. She was in her mid-twenties, with long, blonde hair and green eyes. She also had to get on her toes to lean over into Michael’s vision. She explained that there are nurse shift changes at 3:00 p.m., 11:00 p.m., and 7:00 a.m. and that she was taking care of him until the 11:00 p.m. shift change. After checking all his vital signs, she was preparing to flip Michael over just as Karen did earlier in the day. Before Michael could reiterate Karen’s warning about always having two nurses in the room before they flip him, another nurse popped into the room. In a matter of seconds, he was back on his stomach. Ellen checked his skin for any redness and then applied lotion and powder, just as Karen did earlier in the day. Ellen stayed in the room for the thirty minutes he was on his stomach. She was asking several medical-related questions and taking notes as they spoke. When she starting asking about his personal life, Michael said, “It’s kind of strange having a conversation with the floor. The least you could do is get into my line of vision.”
Two seconds later she was sitting on the floor with her notepad, looking up at him. “Can you see me?” she asked, smiling at him.
They continued the small talk until she flipped him back over. This flip left him a bit more lightheaded than the first turn. He mentioned he was lightheaded, so Ellen started checking his vital signs to make sure something was not out of balance. She stayed with him until his head cle
ared.
Finally alone, he closed his eyes for what felt like five minutes before Ellen woke him up when she placed his dinner tray on the table by his bed. As she was raising the head of the bed so he could eat, Donna and his family arrived just in time to feed him .
As Donna leaned over to kiss him, he winked at her and whispered, “Any strawberries on that tray?”
She lovingly touched his face, winked back, and said, “There will be plenty of time for that later when we are alone.”
Michael had not eaten since a quick rest stop in northern New Jersey Sunday afternoon but really didn’t feel hungry at all. He just wanted something cool to ease his still sore throat.
Donna fed him some Jell-O, and they laughed when she missed his mouth and spilled it on his chest. His mom did a much better job with the fruit cup.
The dinner conversation was light-hearted as everyone tried to stay away from the medical reality staring them in the face. Michael could sense this tension and kept cracking jokes to get everyone relaxed and laughing. After they finished feeding Michael, everyone but Donna went to the cafeteria to get some dinner. They weren’t alone very long; Ellen returned to flip Michael back over onto his stomach. Donna left the room briefly as Ellen and another nurse repeated the steps to flip Michael. Donna returned when Michael was facing the floor.
Michael said to her, “Sit on the floor under me so I can see you.”
“I can just stay in the chair and talk to you,” she answered apprehensively as she glanced at Ellen for some guidance. Ellen nodded yes and motioned for her to go ahead and sit on the floor.
Once she was settled on the floor under the bed, Michael smiled and said, “I always liked being on top of you.”
She started laughing and said, “Even in this condition, you are a pig.” She reached up to touch his face and said, “But you are a really cute pig. ”
Five Years to Live Page 7
