Trapped (21 page)

Chapter Thirty-Nine
(Weeks 7-11 Continued)

With the blood-soaked bath towel shoved between Lisa’s legs, the ambulance, sirens wailing, raced to Brier Emergency.

They rushed her into Treatment Room
One, and transferred her to a gurney. Lisa squinted from the intensely bright room filled with stainless steel, glass, and monitoring equipment. The nurse pulled the avocado-green curtains that moved in a ceiling track around Lisa to put her in a hospital gown. She then attached monitoring leads on her chest, and nasal prongs for oxygen, completing her transition from person to patient.

Lisa viewed this all in a dreamlike state, punctuated by fits of terror and despair.

Since Phoebe was an ICU nurse, the ER staff allowed her to remain at Lisa’s side.

“How are you feeling, s
weetie?”

“What…?”

“Harvey’s on his way down. He’ll be here in a moment.”

“What’s happening with Mike?”

“Nothing’s changed.”

The ER nurse approached with an IV setup. “I’m going to draw some blood and start an IV. Don’t be upset
, it’s just a precaution.”

The nurse inserted a butterfly needle into one of Lisa’s forearm veins
, and drew four tubes of blood. She then connected the IV tubing to a bag of saline solution.

Harvey rushed into the room and moved to Lisa’s side. “We can’t keep meeting this way.”

Harvey’s gentle humor had Lisa feeling the hazy distance from reality cascading away as she moved from being an object to a patient, and back to a human being. She grasped his outstretched hand, and pulled it against her cheek.

“You have it, Harvey,” Lisa said, smiling. “The doctor thing
—the magic that says everything will be okay.”

“Don’t lay it on so thick. I’m a lot easier than that.”

Harvey asked Lisa to retell the events of the last day. “This is going to be déjà vu all over again, Lisa. I’m going to take a look, and then we’ll get an ultrasound. The labs will tell me what your hormones are doing.”

Harvey spent an unusual amount of time looking inside her through the icy cold vaginal speculum.

“What’s so interesting, Harvey?” She asked. “Are you lost?”

“No, I think I’ve been this way before. I’m looking at your cervix
. I think that this bleeding may come from what we call a cervical ectropion.”

“I remember the term from nursing school. Remind me.”

“Due to hormones, the delicate lining of the cervical canal can spread over to the outside of the cervix. It’s a fragile membrane
,
and bleeds easily.” He hesitated a moment. “I’m uncomfortable with this
question, but, for the sake of completeness, I must ask it.”

“An intimate question from my gynecologist, the man who just spent
ten minutes studying my inner self. Outrageous, Harvey, but go ahead.”

“I
know this is unlikely, but…”

“I don’t believe you, Harvey. Out with it.”

“You haven’t had sexual relations recently, or used something…”

Lisa laughed. “If only I had, and don’t think I haven’t been tempted, but the answer is no.”

“I had to ask.”

“And so you did.”

Harvey’s queries about Lisa’s sex life set her mind back to Mike. Beyond its pure erotic pleasure, sex shattered the final barriers to the emotional intimacy that she and Mike craved. In the moments after sex, in the warmth of each other’s arms, they had no secrets. With Mike’s uncert
ain future, she grew despondent.

Will I ever have those feelings again
?
She thought.

“I’m going to put you in observation until we get the results of your tests. If everything’s okay, and
if the bleeding eases off, I’m sending you home.”

As Harvey opened the door to leave, Lisa heard Sandy’s high-pitched voice. “Let me in. She’s my daughter. I have a right to see her.”

“Oh, let her in,” Lisa sighed.

Sandy’s hair was a mess
, yet her face was stony. “Are you okay, darling?”

“I’m fine. They’re doing a few tests, and if they’re okay, I’m going home.”

“Are you sure it’s safe to come home? You lost a lot of blood—so much blood. I’m not sure that you should come home. Maybe they can keep you in the hospital for a day or so.”

“She’ll be fine, Mrs. Cooke,” Phoebe
said. “They won’t send her home unless it’s safe.”

Sandy stared at Phoebe, and then in a dismissive tone
, said, “I want to speak with the doctor.”

Lisa’s mi
nd now focused on, of all things, her mother. “Keep out of my business, Mother. I know what I’m doing.”

Sandy’s icy determination melted into tears as she turned and left the room.

Phoebe stared at her friend. “That was rough on your mother.”

“You don’t know the half of…”

Four hours later, Harvey poked his head through the curtains. “I must sound like a broken record. Your blood tests are fine
. The ultrasound shows a healthy, growing baby with strong heart tones. The bleeding has lessened, so you’re out of here. Call me if there are any more problems, and call me, anyway, in the morning.”

Lisa sat up on the
gurney, reached over, and kissed his cheek. Harvey blushed.

“Thanks for everything
, Harvey. You’re the best.”

Before leaving for home, Phoebe pushed Lisa’s wheelchair up to the ICU. They sat next to Mike’s bed, while Lisa whispered to him.

On the drive home, Sandy said nothing as she gazed out the window.

Lisa broke the silence, “I’m sorry, Mom
, for what I said in the ER.”

“You should be. That’s no way to talk to someone who’s trying to help.”

“I’d rather not get into it now, Mother. Just accept my apology.”

“Get into what? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Let it go, Mother. I’ve had enough aggravation for one day.”

Sa
ndy blew her nose. “We’ve been so close, and now you won’t talk with me.”

“Been close? Mother,
you and I have never been close, and it’s too late, now.”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying
.”

“You want to help me
, now, but where were you when Daddy beat the crap out of me? Where were you then?”

“Rudy, God rest his soul, worked hard to give us a decent home. I know he had
problems—everyone has problems—but he loved you, sweetheart.”

Lisa looked at Sandy in disbelief, and
, although she’d promised herself that she wouldn’t get angry, it was too late. “Don’t you dare to use the word ‘love’ when speaking of Rudy, my sweet father. He spent his life as a wife beater and child abuser. What’s the matter with you? Have you forgotten?”

“He ha
d his bad moments, but he took care of us. It really wasn’t that bad. I think you’re exaggerating.”

Lisa pulled to the curb on Pleasant Valley Road
, and turned to Sandy, all anger gone. Lisa saw in Sandy what she’d seen in interviews of abused women who lived their lives in cycles of violence and denial, blaming themselves for their abuse, and deluding themselves that “this time, he’s really changed”.

Looking at Sandy only made her feel sad.

Lisa knew that nothing could shake Sandy’s willful disbelief. “I love you, Mother. Life hasn’t been easy for either of us, so let’s try to put the past behind us.”

Sandy wiped the tears from her eyes. “If only your father was alive to see you
, now.”

Fucking
unbelievable
, resounded through Lisa’s mind.

Chapter Forty
(Weeks 12 to 19)

The slow motion dream plays before my eyes as a bright yellow Hummer, with its left turn signal flashing approached. The driver’s face was flaccid and his eyes dead. He’s looking, but not seeing. The SUV on steroids moves on its mindless and immutable path toward me.

No
—No! Not tonight. Not on our anniversary. I reach over and grasp Lisa’s gift-wrapped present and bring it to my chest. I feel the jolt. The shiny crash bar of the Hummer rushes toward me, and then…

A blackness unlike anything I’ve known before, a warm shadow of serenity surrounds me. It’s like the few moments before awakening from a pleasant dream, yet when I try to wake myself, I can’t.

Where am I?

How am I?

Am I dead?

I remember the seconds before the crash, but nothing more; no walking toward a bright light, no greetings by long-gone relatives, no looking down at my own dead body, no angels, and no God.

I can’t be dead. To be dead is to be nothing, yet here I am in s
ome new state of being. I knew death was the end, and people who lived for a life beyond the grave were as delusional
as martyrs expecting paradise and 72 virgins.

Yet, I’m self-aware.

I’m here.

Where?

Someone once defined life as the consciousness of existence. Now, I understand.

I never thought of myself as particularly courageous. I’m convinced that most bravery has its roots in the lack of imagination
, and a willful disbelief in one’s mortality, yet I’m not afraid.

Due to Phoebe’s coercive efforts and the staff’s affection for Mike and Lisa, they bent the rules on visitation. At the six-week mark, they moved Mike into one of the private ICU rooms in the northwest corner of the unit.

Lisa stared at the bright early afternoon sun
as it radiated across San Francisco Bay area.

P
eople are out shopping, going on picnics, traveling to see friends and family, she thought. Just an ordinary Sunday for them.

Lisa held Mike’s hand
, while Nora and Mike’s sisters sat around the room talking in hushed tones.

“You guys have been great,” Lisa
said. “I know it hasn’t been easy to get over here. Mike and I really appreciate all your efforts.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Nora
said. “It’s Michael. We love him, and there’s nothing we wouldn’t do to get him through this.”

“You’re with him every day, Lisa,” Lilly
said. “Have you seen any changes?”

“Not really. Sometimes, when I talk with him
, or read to him, I have the sense that something’s getting through—wishful thinking, I’m afraid.”

“What about his tests?” Sally
asked.

Lisa rose
, and gestured for them to follow. In the small anteroom, with the door closed to Mike, Lisa said, “I don’t like to talk about him in his presence.”

“He can’t hear us, can he?” Emma
asked.

“I don’t think so, but there’s no reason to take that chance,” Lisa
said. “Dr. Byrnes works full-time in ICU, and it’s surprised him more than once, when comatose patients recalled the details of a bedside conversation. Imagine how destructive that could be.”

“It’s been nearly two months,” Emma
said. “How long can this go on?”

“It’ll go on as long as it takes,” Lilly
said. “We can’t give up.”

“Each time I see Michael lying there like this,” Nora
said, “I flash back to Aaron’s coma, and his death.”

“You didn’t waste any time pulling the plug on Daddy,” Sally
said. “We’re not going to let that happen with Mike.”

While Sally stared her challenge at her mother, the room remained silent.

“How dare you.” Nora shouted. “How dare you. After all these years, you question my judgment?”

“Mother…
” Sally tried.

“Aaron was dead at the time we made that decision
. By every neurological parameter he was brain dead. His brain waves proved it, and all the doctors agreed. What more do you want from me?” Nora placed her hands over her face, and sobbed.

“We were young, Mother,” Lilly
said, “and we’ve never really talked about it all these years.”

“I’m trying to be sympathetic,” Lisa
said, shaking in anger, “but this is Mike, not Aaron. “Mike’s alive, and his brain waves are that of a normal awake person, not a brain-dead one. I resent the comparison. I won’t have it! Do you understand?”

The women stared at Lisa in dismay, and then Lilly walked up and embraced her. Lisa stiffened, then yielded to Lilly’s arms
, and cried.

Nora and her daughters stood in the parking garage by their cars after their visit.

“Think of what Lisa’s going through,” Lilly
said. “Mike, and her pregnancy, a troubled one, at that. It’s a lot for anyone.”

“We can’t change reality,” Nora
said, “regardless of how we try. At some point in time, Lisa, with our help, may need to make decisions that today seem incomprehensible. We need to be ready.”

As Lisa entered her third month, she feasted on the fast-food facts of fertility. Of the many things that trouble women during pregnancy, one is the concern about maternal instinct. Do I have it? Will I get it? What if I don’t? For Lisa, this was a given. She’d played with her extensive doll collection as a child, had loved babysitting, and had volunteered at several child care centers when she was a teenager. She loved contact with children and had known that she wanted to be a mother.

“Not another baby book,” Phoebe said as they sipped cappuccino by the window of the local Barnes and Noble bookstore. They’d drawn the shades against the bright afternoon sun.

“One can never know enough,” Lisa said, smiling.

“You
read several dozen, already. All that contradictory information must confuse you.”

“I pick and choose. I get a little from each. Maybe afterward, I’ll write my own book. Don’t tell me you didn’t read anything before you had Max.”

“I read some articles in
Pregnancy Magazine
and
American Baby,
but beyond the basics, like eating well and exercising during pregnancy, as well as how to keep Max alive, I couldn’t keep it all straight. I can’t use a checklist of what I should and shouldn’t do, so I do what feels right to me. Like Jason, Max is stuck with me for better or worse.”

“Both your guys are lucky.”

“Since what I learn may influence my baby,” Phoebe said, “I also read
Popular Mechanics
. With Jason’s and my mechanical skills, we’re going to need someone who can handle a screwdriver.”

Phoebe grasped Lisa’s hands. “How are you feeling? What week is this?”

“I’m about twelve or thirteen weeks, and I feel great.” Lisa hesitated. “I’m so happy about our baby, but I can’t avoid the loneliness. If it wasn’t for you, Phoebe, I don’t know what I’d do.”

“This is one of the times
that I wish I could find some pithy aphorism to make it all better.”

“You can skip the pith,” Lisa
said. “As a matter of fact, I have to take a pith right now.”

Phoebe laughed. “Well, at least you haven’t lost your sense of humor.”

“Seriously,” Lisa said, “it’s enough that you’re here with me.”

“We don’t talk about the ‘what if’ question,” Phoebe
said. “It's as if discussing the future, might influence it.”

“I can’t think about
losing Mike—it’s too painful.”

“You’re young and full of life
, and, now, there’s going to be a baby. That’s pretty good, I think.”

They stood to leave. Lisa hugged Phoebe. “Why don’t you bring the guys over tomorrow
night. I’m cooking up some Lasagna.”

“You’re on. I love any excuse
to not cook.”

“You’re so domestic, Phoebe. I can’t stand it.”

“Bruce Bryant’s secretary called,” Harvey Russo’s receptionist
said. “He’d like to meet with you this afternoon at five-thirty.”

“Tell him
that it’s okay.” It was the Edna-Sue Jones case, he knew.

Harvey called Jackie Barnes. “Brier’s CEO
, and probably the hospital attorney, wants to meet with me this afternoon. What do you think?”

“It’s early for the rats to be deserting the ship, but I’m sure that’s what’s happening. I’ll be there. Where and when?”

“The administration offices at five-thirty. They didn’t invite you, Jackie.”

“Good. Then we’ll
pleasantly surprise them.”

They walked the three blocks to Brier. The sun was setting, and the west wind carried the salty smell of the bay a few miles away.

They crossed the street to Brier Mansion. The cobblestone driveway
was lined with ancient Redwoods, many five or six feet thick. They entered the ivy-covered building through the ornate portico, and arrived in the administration’s reception area at exactly five-thirty p.m. After a fifteen-minute wait, Bruce Bryant showed up, and escorted them into his office.

As they settled in front of Bruce’s desk, Alan David, the hospital attorney
, entered. Bruce made the introductions.

“I didn’t know Ms. Barnes would be joining us
, today,” Al David said.

“I’m sorry,”
Harvey said, “I thought this meeting concerned the Jones litigation.”

Bruce looked at Al, and then continued, “As a matter of fact, it does. Our insurance carrier suggested we put this whole thing to rest. It won’t take too many bucks to do so.”

“Are we looking at the same lawsuit?” Jackie asked. “Those claims for the support of this child add up to lots of money. Besides which, Dr. Russo will not settle this case under any circumstances.”

“Jurors are going to love this case
,” Al said. They’ll relish the opportunity to stick it to a group of rich doctors and fat cat Brier Hospital. Think of it: a poor girl comes to the famous Brier Hospital, nearly dies, loses her uterus, and winds up with a damaged baby.”

“Just a minute,” Harvey began
. “We didn’t…”

“I know, Harvey,” Bruce
said. “This woman was as irresponsible as a pregnant woman could be. She’s at fault, but will a jury refuse to help her and her sick baby boy?”

“We don’t like the odds,” Al David
said. “Settling is the smart thing to do.”

Jackie stood. “I think it’s time to go, Harvey.”

Harvey looked at her, confused.

“Wait a minute,” Al David
said. “What’s going on here?”

“You guys have been poorly advised. You may think you know Dr. Russo, but I guarantee that you don’t know me. I’m advising my client that we may have a conflict of interest
—notice that I use the word, ‘may’—with Brier Hospital. I don’t think you want Dr. Russo to point the finger at Brier, but he certainly doesn’t want Brier dumping their liability on his shoulders.”

Bruce turned ashen.
“We have no such intention. We want what’s best for the doctors and the hospital.”

“Thank you,
Gentlemen,” Jackie said as Harvey opened the door for her. “You guys talk about it. We’ll be in touch.”

Outside, back in the sun, Harvey said, “You’re too much, Jackie.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.
It’s people like those two who keep trial lawyers in business. They think only in the short term, and throw open the coffers every time a patient sneezes. It makes me sick.”