Authors: Jerry Byrum
When Ramona entered the PACU her eyes were scanning the five
patients to see if she recognized any of them. Selena, of course. The other
four, no. And there was a sixth patient behind a curtained-screen at the far
end of the room. She caught a glimpse of a bandaged foot.
Ramona stood by Selena, touching her arm gently, and
speaking softly. “Hello, special girl. This is Ramona. I heard the good news
about your new kidney. I know the Good Lord heard our prayers to take care of
you, because He was up all night stirring up the weather. I even traded in my
old umbrella, as a bonus chip, along with my prayers for you.”
The nurse, adjusting one of the IVs, cut a glance at Ramona.
Ramona smiled, “It’s an inside joke I have with my boss.”
The nurse nodded thinking, freaky.
As Ramona left the PACU, she saw Trevor coming down the
hall. “Hey, Trevor, what’s up?”
“Been on duty all night. Getting ready to shift-off.”
“What do you know about Selena?”
“Heard the good news during the night.”
“Where’d the kidney come from?”
“Do I look like a doctor? What do I know; I’m just a lowly
tech guy.” He grinned.
Ramona gave him a devilish smile. “Trevor, if there’s
anything to know, you know it. You don’t fool me.”
He laughed. “I fix machines and stuff, not people. That’s
your job and the docs.” Anxious to get away from his discerning preacher-woman
he said, “I’ve got one more maintenance call before I go home for some rest.”
Ramona reached out and hugged him. “Take care, Trevor.” When
she released him she said, “By the way, do you know anyone by the name of
Roscoe?”
He studied the question. “I’ve heard the name. A new member
at church?”
She studied his eyes. “Not yet.”
Trevor spun around, calling back over his shoulder, “See you
on Sunday. I need another dose of fire and brimstone.”
She laughed. “I’ll turn the heat up.”
Bleary-eyed, Dr. Hertford picked his way through the street
debris, turning into his drive, and parking his car. He was met at the door by
his wife, Elise. She was smiling. “How’d it go?”
He gave her a soft hug. “The transplant was successful, but
what an unspeakable night with this storm, and we had major malfunctions all
over the hospital. Just unbelievable.” He coaxed her toward their pastel
decorated bedroom suite. “I’ll pour out more details after I get some much
needed sleep. I showered in the doctor’s dressing room.” With his clothes on,
he crawled up on top of the bed, lying back. Elise curled beside him, with her
jeans and sport shirt.
He turned to her. “Elise, I would not have gone to the hospital,
if you had not been so understanding, and persistent. Being a surgeon’s spouse
can’t…can’t be easy. I appreciate your understanding beyond description. You’re
so special to me.”
She snuggled closer. “I know, Honey. You make me feel that
way, and I love you for being such a good doctor and husband.”
“Two surgeons return to duty today, so I’m taking several
days of vacation.”
“I look forward to that time with you.”
His breathing became deeper as he drifted off.
The non-stop flight from Tokyo, Japan to Atlanta was
thirteen hours. After a tarmac delay of over an hour, the flight departed 8:40
a.m. Eastern Time. They’d be flying east into the day and their arrival time in
Atlanta would be close to 11:00 p.m., probably well after midnight, if they could
fly into Asheville that late.
While rushing for their connecting flight, Madison had
received a brief text message from Ramona: “At hospital with Selena. Trust.
Don’t worry. Lv, RB” Time of text was 3:52 a.m. EST. Madison’s thoughts were
buzzing like a disturbed yellow jacket’s nest.
No additional messages had been received by her security
team. This would be the longest flight of her life. She was having a hard time
‘trusting’ as her hate for D.R. Fallington grew by the second. Madison blamed
him for being on a damned airplane rather than with her daughter. She was also
beginning to tire of always being the strong one for other people. Would there
ever come a time when I can lean on another person?
She smiled at Zhong as the plane started its roll down the
runway.
Roscoe had handled the operation well, but was still groggy
from the general anesthesia. After three hours in PACU, he was taken to patient
room 420. As the day wore on, he was drinking water and juices, testing his
stomach for tolerance of more substantial food.
By 3:00 p.m. the nurses had gotten him out of bed and let
him walk a few steps. His biggest challenge was explaining how he was able to
walk with a bandaged foot. He finally convinced one of the nurses that the physician’s
assistant had made a bigger deal out of the “splinter” in his toe than it
really was, thus the large bandage.
He was eager to walk so he could get out of the hospital,
but once he got out he’d have to fake the foot until he recovered from the laparoscopic
incisions made for his kidney removal. He thought, leading a double life as a
foot patient one minute, and a kidney patient the next was hell.
Selena had remained longer in PACU. There were more
functions to check after her kidney transplant. She was monitored closely for
any adverse reactions. Particular attention was given to see if her new kidney
would begin producing urine. Her two native kidneys, although under-developed,
were not removed. They were yielding about ten percent functionality, so they
would be an additional bonus.
She’d been given an assortment of immunosuppressant
medications to help prevent her body from rejecting her new kidney, but with
such a perfect match, the doctors were hopeful that she could be weaned from
most of those over the coming months.
Although she’d reached a weakened state right before her
transplant, her youthfulness and general good health would be in her favor over
the long term.
While in PACU, she was helped out of bed and took her first
post-operative walk. That brought a smile to her face, but a little pain around
her incision, but she didn’t mind. She was already flooded with a sense of
thankfulness that she had a brand new kidney. She had a bout or two with nausea
from the residual anesthesia, but she didn’t mind, and began keeping her
liquids down. She even had visions of enjoying a juicy hamburger and strawberry
milkshake.
Later in the day when she was rolled back to her original
room, she turned her head glancing into room 405, Roscoe’s old room, but he
wasn’t there. Instead, an obese white woman was planted in the bed, mouthing
loudly to the bored nurse about the small portions of food she’d been
receiving.
Selena felt a wave of sadness that Roscoe was not there, as
she thought, he’s probably already been released from the hospital. Maybe I
should have whacked his foot good with his crutch, while he was asleep the
other night. Then he’d be in Cobalt until I got out. She chuckled silently.
Roscoe had finished drinking more juice, and eaten a plate
of fruits and yogurt for supper, without any nausea. He’d read several articles
on the internet about the things patients could do to speed their recovery from
kidney-donor surgery. Every chance he’d gotten when the nurses were out of the
room, he exercised with any kind of movement possible. Pumping and waving arms
in the air, rotating shoulders, even moving his legs to the point of bringing
him a twinge of pain across his 5-inch incision. He’d worked up a sweat at one
point, setting off the monitors at the nurses’ station.
Two nurses came running into his room, while his arms were
flapping the air. “What in the world are you doing?”
“Trying to speed recovery. Got to get this medicine out of
my system. Got things to do this weekend.” He smiled.
The nurses sighed. “Just don’t overdo everything, or you
might need to stay longer.”
He slowly lowered his arms down to his sides. “Good advice.
How about something else to drink?”
An earlier call to his best friend, Billy, prompted his
visit at 7:30 p.m. “Roscoe, what’s going on? They moved you?”
“Yeah, had a little flare up with the foot. A splinter or
piece of embedded glass from the wreck or something. But they got it fixed this
time.”
“So why’d they put you on the kidney floor if it’s your
foot?”
“Bad storm last night…short of beds.”
Billy shrugged. “Whatever. So what’s new?”
Roscoe pulled out his Tablet, opened a document, and then
handed the device to Billy. “I’m hoping to get released from Cobalt Friday or
Saturday. I’d like to launch these plans by June 1st. But first I want your
very best critical analysis. Tell me why it won’t work.”
His friend stared at him blankly. “Well, that’s a complete
reversal of how you used to do.”
“I’ve learned to value and trust other individual’s ideas
and talents. You’ve always been analytical. I was a fool to ignore it.”
Billy swelled his chest with a deep breath. “Okay let’s take
a look at what you’ve got here.”
For the next two hours the two friends bantered back and
forth.
Billy said, “I think you’re going to have to shave more off your
projected profit margin. Every business is fighting for every dollar, and
consumers are stingy as hell with their spending in this economy.” He paused a
moment. “You’ll have to make it up with increased volume, of course your
workers are going to balk…maybe.”
“Good point, so let’s make that change.”
Billy nodded and said, “So your initial workforce is going
to be me, you and three other people. Who are they? Were they in school with
us?”
“No. Just met them since being in the hospital. Ned Stringer
is a cab driver and spare-time deck builder, Jerome Johnson is a ten-year
carpenter, and Imogene Johnson completed her Interior Decorator Degree two
years ago at the community college, but hasn’t found regular work yet.”
Billy was breaking a sweat as he sprang from his chair,
pacing around the foot of Roscoe’s bed. “Have you interviewed these people?
Have you looked at any of their work?” His arms were flailing the air with
questions?
“Well, sort of…I’ve asked a lot of questions. Hell, I’ve
been in the damn hospital, Billy.” He paused a moment, calming himself. “What
do you suggest?”
Billy thought a moment, taking his seat again. “What if you
set up a meeting with all of us, when you get released? Give everyone a chance
to meet and see if you feel the chemistry is right, and you tell us what the
mission is going to be, expectations, chances of failure, and chances of
success…something so you can get an upfront commitment from people? After all,
you’re asking us to leap into the great unknown along with you.”
“I wouldn’t have thought of that. You’re a good thinker,
Billy. If this thing works, I hope I can afford you.”
Billy smiled. “Roscoe, you’ve really changed…for the
better.”
After the shift change of the night nurses, Rachel Johnson
sought out Roscoe’s room on the opposite corner from where her assignment was.
Roscoe was deep in thought studying his plans on his Tablet when she walked in.
“Well, Mr. Roscoe, I see you’re hard at work already or
you’re playing one of those crazy electronic games.” She took the chair next to
his bed. “How’re you feeling?”
“Feeling great, now that you’re here. Did you have a good
night last night?”
She eyed him. “What you think, with the storm, and the chaos
you stirred up? I didn’t sleep a bit and my nerves have been on edge all day.”
Roscoe smiled. “Storm? We had a storm? I didn’t hear a
thing. I slept all through the night.”
She glared at him.
“How’s Selena?
“She’s made a remarkable recovery, much better than
average.” Her look softened. “I don’t know all that you did last night to pull
this good deed off, but you saved that girl’s life. I’ll never forget that.”
“In case you haven’t heard, I’m claiming anonymity.”
Rachel laughed. “Uh-huh, so you say, but there’s already
been talk that the hospital administrator has been asking a lot of questions.
There must have been a leak in your anonymity shield.”
Roscoe reasoned he’d cross that bridge later but right now
he had an issue much more urgent.
“Rachel, I need a small favor.”
She stood immediately. Defiant.
“Roscoe, don’t start with that. No more favors. The
blood-drawing favor I did you will cost me my job.” Her voice cracked.
“But that favor saved Selena’s life. The favor I need is
small.”
“What? A little joy-ride to the Starbucks location on Mars?”
“Do you have an extra room?”
She looked at him flabbergasted, spreading her arms. “You
have a room.”
“No, I mean do you have an extra room at home, where I could
stay when I get released?
“Are you crazy, Roscoe? My son and grandson, and my daughter
are all piled in on top of me. No, I don’t have an extra room. If I did have
room for you, that would probably confirm to the entire world our collusion in
all this mess.”
The air was silent.
She said, “What about your grandmother? She’s bound to have
extra room.”
“I wouldn’t feel comfortable there, yet.”
“What about some of your friends?”
“I only have one friend. He doesn’t have a place of his
own.”
“Surely you have people you worked with? How about some of
your girlfriends?”
“No one likes me at work, and the girlfriends are gone.” He
looked back at Rachel. “Do you have a screened porch…or something?” He chewed
on his bottom lip.
She sighed. “You’re really serious about this?”
He nodded.
“There’s a small room with a tiny bath over my broken down
garage. It’s in poor shape. After we could no longer rent it, the kids played
up there once in a while.”