Cupid's Christmas (20 page)

D
octor Ramon Shameer was not only the hospital’s Chief of Orthopedic Surgery, he was also an expert diagnostician and to date he had never 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 still 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 then 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 test,” 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 of 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,” she said. “I feel fine. My knee’s a bit sore but other than that…”

Doctor Shameer’s mouth dropped open. “Impossible!” he stammered. “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 in fact her back 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 off 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, on 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. And 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

W
e 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,” he said, “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 their relationship had begun with, 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.

I
t 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.” When she hung up the phone, Lindsay said, “You didn’t give him the hospital number.”

“That’s okay,” Eleanor sighed. “I doubt he’d call anyway.”

S
ome 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 up 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 redial 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.