Trapped (17 page)

Chapter Thirty-One

“Where’s your Daddy?” Lisa said to Daisy, as the clock reached six-thirty p.m. Daisy was perched on top of the sofa, wagging her tail. She camped there awaiting Mike’s return home. Lisa tried Mike’s cell phone several times, but got only his voicemail. Maybe there was some emergency at Brier? She called the NICU, and learned that Mike had left at four in the afternoon. Lisa felt the first stirring of fear. She called Phoebe, who said, “We’ll be right over.”

“Something must be wrong,” Lisa said as Phoebe and Jason arrived thirty minutes later. “He’d never be late without calling me. Something’s terribly wrong.”

“Don’t get worked up
, yet,” Phoebe said. “Maybe he had a breakdown. Try not to worry so much.”

At exactly eight p.m
., the doorbell sounded. When Lisa opened the door to two police officers standing on the porch, she nearly fainted.

“Mrs. Cooper?”

“Yes.”

“I’m
Officer James and this is my partner, Officer Stanley. May we come in?”

Lisa backed away. “What’s wrong?

“Why are you here?

“Where’s Michael?

“What aren’t you telling me?”

“I’m so sorry, Mrs. Cooper, but a drunk driver h
it Dr. Cooper this evening…”

“Where is he? Is he alright?”

“The driver struck Dr. Cooper’s car broadside at high speed as he was coming out of Nordstrom’s. He’s at Brier Emergency.”

Lisa suddenly felt nauseated. She couldn’t breathe. Gasping, she asked, “How bad is it?”

“I don’t know for sure, but it’s bad.”

Lisa grabbed her coat and purse
, and headed for the door with Phoebe and Jason one step behind.

“I’ll drive,” Jason
said.

Lisa alternately sobbed and beat at the dashboard as they crawled toward Berkeley
, stuck in the traffic at the Caldecott Tunnel. Each time the tail lights of the cars ahead brightened, Lisa shook in frustration. Finally, they reached the Tunnel Road exit, and sped to Brier.

Jason drove up the emergency room ramp and let Lisa and Phoebe off while he drove to the parking garage.

“Where is he?” Lisa shouted as she came to the nursing station.

“Where is who?”
Asked the ward clerk.

“Mike
—where’s Mike?”

“Mike?”

“Dr. Cooper—I’m Lisa Cooper, his wife.”

“He’s in room II
, but you can’t go in.”

“Like hell, I can’t. I’m a nurse
, and his wife!”

Lisa
was about to push her way in when the door swung open, and Julie Kramer, a general surgeon, exited. She put both hands on Lisa’s shoulders, and pushed her backward. “Don’t go in, yet. Give me a minute.”

“How bad is he?” Lisa asked.

“Some drunk hit him broadside at thirty miles per hour. I didn’t know that the Honda had side airbags. If it hadn’t, he’d be dead, for sure.”

“Mike had them installed after he bought the car. I want to see him.”

“Wait a sec. Let me finish.”

Lisa placed
her arms across her chest.

“His injuries are massive.”

Lisa felt her legs weaken as she sank into the chair across from the door of his room.

“We completed a CT scan of his head. He has a large subdural hematoma with blood pressing on his brain. We got to get it out before it does more damage. This is a mean head injury.”

“What else?” Phoebe asked.

“He fractured his left femur
, and three ribs on the left. He’s bleeding into his abdomen—likely a ruptured spleen. We’re doing everything possible.”

“I’ve got to see him before
it’s too late.”

“He’s in a coma
, and we’re about to take him to surgery. He’ll be there for hours, if we’re lucky.”

“Can we transfer him to the trauma center at the University
of California Medical Center?”

“He’d never survive the trip. We have great surgeons here
, and, more than that, Mike is one of us. We’ll go all the way with him. He can’t get better care then we’ll give him. I promise.”

Warren
Davidson, the chief of medicine, opened the door and allowed Lisa into the treatment room. In the right corner stood a hospital gurney surrounded by doctors, nurses and technicians.

Lisa couldn’t see Mike. She force
d herself to the head of the gurney and elbowed her way through.

Lisa could never have prepared herself for the sight. She scanned his enormous body.
Mike’s long legs hung off the gurney. His head was wrapped in blood-stained gauze bandages, and his face was so swollen and purple-red that she couldn’t recognize the man she loved. They’d inserted a large chest tube between two of the lower ribs on the left, and she watched as his blood cycled back and forth within the clear tube with each of his respirator-assisted breaths. His abdomen was distended with blood, she knew. She looked up, seeking a familiar face.

“Lisa,” Julie Kramer
said, “We have no time. He’s needs surgery right now, before it’s too late.”

Without warning, Mike’s monitor alarmed
, and Mickey Katz, the anesthesiologist, yelled, “He’s going out!”

Jack Byrnes, the chief of intensive care
studied the monitor. “Damn it, it’s ventricular fibrillation.”

He began external cardiac compressions
, which were made more difficult because of Mike’s fractured ribs. “Shit,” he said, “get the defibrillator ready.”

Lisa turned away, listening to Jack’s words. “Ready
. All clear.” The electrical discharge had Mike’s body contracting. The gurney shook.

After the third shock, the monitor beeped with each heartbeat, and Jack said, “He’s back. Can anyone get a pressure?”

“It’s sixty over nothing,” the nurse said.

Lisa shuddered, grasping at the faint trace of hope emitted by these electronically simulated
heart beats.

“Good enough,” Mickey
said. “Let’s get him to surgery.”

Lisa turned back to Mike’s bed long enough to grasp his lifeless fingers as the bed raced down the hall to the awaiting elevator.

Phoebe watched Lisa moaning and holding herself with both arms. As she compulsively rocked at the waist, her image seemed to shrink, as if her soul was retreating to its primordial
resting place. Phoebe wanted to help Lisa deal with the terror, but she couldn’t. Worse, she was about to make things more difficult for her friend.

“I’ll call Nora and Mike’s sisters. They must hear from us before Mike’s accident goes public.”

The horror of Phoebe’s words shocked Lisa back to reality as she renewed her sobbing. After a few minutes, she said, “This is going to destroy them. Mike is everything to them—their boy, in spite of his age. How can I do that to them?”

“You don’t have to. I’ll do it.”

“No, Phoebe. It’s got to come from me.”

Lisa sat by the phone, picking it up, and putting it down. When she finally dialed Nora’s number, she hung up as the phone started to ring. The second time she dialed, the phone rang six times, and, as Lisa was about to hang up, the phone clicked. “Hi, Nora speaking.”

Lisa opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

“Hello, who’s calling?”

“It’s Lisa,” she said in a near whisper.

“Lisa, sweetheart. How’s my favorite daughter-in-law?”

Suddenly, Lisa felt nauseated. She couldn’t breathe.

Nora knew in an instant that something was wrong. “Lisa, what is it?” She asked, her voice faltering.

“It’s Mike
—there’s been an accident…”

“Where is he?

“How is he?

“I’ll get ready and come down to see him. I’ll call the gir
ls. Just tell me he’s okay…”

Silence.

“Lisa!” She screamed—“Oh my God—Lisa—talk to me!”

In a monotone, Lisa said, “It was our anniversary
—I’d planned a great dinner—he bought me a…”

“Lisa!”

“He never knew what hit him, Nora,” Lisa said sobbing. “The drunk driver ran the light and crashed into Mike’s car. It was instantaneous. He didn’t know what happened.”

“He’s not…
”

“No
! God no. They just took him to surgery. It’s bad, but he’s still alive.”

Separated by the phone line, Lisa could see and feel Nora’s devastation as both wept in silence.

Lisa listened.
What can I say?

Nora took a deep breath. “Have you called any of the girls?”

“No, I wanted to tell you first. I’ll call them when I hang up.”

Lisa heard Nora blow her nose, then Nora said, “No, I’ll do it. It’s better if it comes from me.”

“No, I can’t let you do this. It’s my responsibility.”

“We love you
, Lisa. We’ve been so happy for you and Mike. I know you feel that you must do this, but trust me, I know my daughters. I know how to tell them. We’ll be down to Brier as fast as we can.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

Lisa sat in the surgical waiting room with Phoebe by her side.

This must be a nightmare,
she thought, waiting for it all to end, waiting to roll over and find Mike by her side.

One by one, the family arrived Nora
came first followed by Mike’s sisters. Sheriff Herman Manning drove Sandy and arrived an hour later from Grass Valley.

Phoebe paraphrased Mike’s physicians as each asked about his condition.

Lisa sat in silence, staring at the door.

After ninety minutes, Phoebe rose
, and headed for the phone. “I’ll find out what’s happening.”

As she dialed, the circulating nurse, in green scrubs, opened the door and entered. “Dr. Kramer sent me here to give you an update. The good news
is that he’s alive. The bad news,” she paused, “is that his injuries are worse than we thought. Carter Reynolds, the neurosurgeon, removed the large clot without difficulty, but his brain was badly compressed. He says we can’t know right now what that will mean, although getting the clot out in the first few hours is encouraging. When Julie got into Mike’s abdomen, she found that the spleen was ruptured. She had to remove it. She also found his liver to be lacerated. She’s trying to repair it, but much of it may have to go—it’s too soon to tell.”

“How are his vital signs?” Lisa
asked.

“They’re pretty much stable, another Mickey Katz miracle
—the guy’s simply the best.”

“How much longer?” Phoebe
asked.

“Hours. Many hours.”

They sat as the hours passed. Everyone wanted to say something
, but they had retreated into their own silent spheres. Nurses, techs, physicians, and even a few hospital administrators stuck their heads in to express their concern and their best wishes.

Lisa had the image of solitude, of sitting in the center of a silent auditorium
, waiting for the curtains to go up. Her tears ran dry, as did her saliva. The wait was unbearable.

Phoebe’s whispers of hope
came from afar—hollow—meaningless.

By the tenth hour, half the people in the room were asleep. When Julie Kramer entered the room, everyone stood.

She walked up to Lisa and embraced her. “He’s in recovery.” She grasped Lisa’s hand, and pulled her along.

When they
entered the room, post-operative patients filled each available gurney. Patients were at different stages of the recovery process. Lisa walked past Mike’s gurney, not recognizing him until Julie pulled her arm and brought her to his side.

The giant man was a mass of tubes; drains fr
om his head, chest, and four from his abdomen. The endotracheal tube remained in his throat, attached to the ventilator. He had multiple IVs running fluids and blood into his tortured body. Lisa absorbed these sights in an instant, while her attention fixed on his bloated, purple-gray, and impassive face. Lisa recognized the face—she’d seen it many times before—the face of the dead.

“Is he…?”

“It’s a miracle, Lisa, at least so far,” Julie said. “After I removed the spleen, I was able to repair his damaged liver without removing any of it. I hope that’s not going to be a mistake. It’s strictly a judgment call on my part. I hope I made the right decision.”

Lisa grasped Julie’s small hand, brought it to her lips
, and kissed it. “I can’t thank you enough.”

Julie reddened. “This was the easy part, I’m afraid. We’ve done everything we can. The rest is up to Mike
, and to providence.”

“Mike didn’t get this far without a reason. He’s not ready to go. I’m not ready to let him go.”

After four hours, and with no alteration in Mike’s level of consciousness, they moved him to the intensive care unit. The ICU staff placed him directly across from the nursing station. Doctors, nurses
, and their families received a different level of attention from the hospital staff, the ‘one-of-our-own’ kind of care.

“It’s a two-edged sword,” said Jack Byrnes, the medical director of the ICU
. “I’ll be directing Mike’s care, but I must constantly guard against doing too much or too little under the pressure of everyone’s concern, a daily live performance under the microscope.”

Jack hugged Lisa and Phoebe at Mike’s bedside.

“What do you think?” Lisa asked.

Jack gestured for them to follow him into his small office. “I don’t think he can hear us
, but I’ve been surprised before when ‘comatose’ patients survived, and recalled the details of our bedside conversations. I won’t make that mistake, again.

“Have a seat,” Jack said,
and hesitated to formulate his answer.

“You’re both pros, so I’m talking with you in that way. While I’m concerned with every aspect of Mike’s injuries, the two elements that worry me the most are the overall amount of traumatic damage
, and his head injury. If we manage to get him through this only to discover that his brain is….”

Lisa gasped as tears ran from her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Jack said. “I’ve never found a good way to talk about these things, and it’s way too early, but did you guys ever talk about Mike’s desires for care under these circumstances?”

“My God,” Lisa cried.
“I can’t talk about that.”

“Let’s hope it never becomes an issue,” Jack
said.

“I’d never
—he’d never want to be kept alive in a vegetative state—never. I know that with certainty.”

“I need to talk with you about something, Lisa,” Jack
said.

“What?”

“The neurosurgeon, Carter Reynolds, is pushing me to put Mike on a barbiturate, the so-called Phenobarbital-induced coma.”

“He doesn’t need a drug for that,” Phoebe
said, “he’s already there.”

“It’s a controversial technique,” Jack
said. “The theory, and some data suggests, that the drug can reduce the high pressure in Mike’s brain by lowering its metabolism.”

“If it helps,” Lisa
said, “then why not?”

“I’m not sure it helps, and it might do some harm. First, it could lower his blood pressure
, and second, it might make it difficult for us to access his neurological status.”

“There are lots of ways to lower brain pressure,” Phoebe said, “
we use them all the time in ICU.”

“Easy, girl,” Jack
said. “I raised the subject because the neurosurgeon made the suggestion, although not forcefully, that we consider it. We want to play all the odds for Mike.”

“Don’t ask me to make that decision,” Lisa
said. “I trust you to do what’s best for Mike.”

“I’m not asking
,” Jack said, shaking his head. “I want you to know that we’ll do anything—everything, to get Mike through this.”

“I know,” Lisa
said. “I know.”