When You're Expecting Something Else (5 page)

I hear myself speak. “Yes, I think I’d like to work here on Medical-Five.”

“Welcome aboard,” she says. “I’ll put you on the schedule for three weeks out. That should give you time to fully recover and adjust to the new changes in your life. You’ll start with four weeks of orientation working with Regina here then. Call me anytime between now and then if you have any questions about anything,” she says, concluding my interview.

I feel so happy, rejuvenated, and alive for the first time in weeks. I have a job, a change of specialty, and I’ll be working with Regina during my orientation, a chance to make a new friend. My sister is coming to visit me, too. She’s planning to be here tomorrow morning with my car to take me home. I can hardly wait to see her and tell her my news.

Regina comes in as soon as Sara Ianovich walks out. She offers me a pain pill, which I almost refuse until I remember how much I like feeling pain free. I wonder if this good medication is behind my sudden elation. Whatever. I swallow my pill, thankful for any form of help life throws my way. I tell her that I’ll be working with her on Medical-Five in three weeks. She squeals her happiness and gives me a “thumbs up.” I love the feeling of girlfriend camaraderie.

“I’d like to go to ICU to see Jared,” I tell Regina the next time she comes into my room.

“Let me check with his nurse to see if he can have visitors. He might already be at his limit. They only allow two at a time and only for five minutes every hour,” she says. She exits my room and leaves me wondering more about Jared, who his visitors might be, what kind of family and friends he has living nearby. I hardly know him, but I miss him terribly, and worry about his condition. I really need to see him.

Regina comes back into my room minutes later pushing an empty wheelchair in front of her. “I can take you to see Jared now. So far he hasn’t had any visitors at all. His nurse said that, like with you, there was no emergency number to call. Maybe you can give them some information about his relatives. So far, he hasn’t regained consciousness.”

“Not at all?” My heart races at the thought that Jared hasn’t awakened yet. And that he’s totally alone. The reality of how seriously injured he is suddenly penetrates the gray matter of my brain. I think of my parents again, how my mother died instantly, but my father lingered painfully for hours after the fatal impact. My God, I don’t want Jared to die!

My heart is still crying for him when Regina pushes me in my wheelchair off the elevator and down the long hallway where she activates the button to open the automatic doors leading to the Intensive Care Unit. Here patients lie in goldfish bowls tethered to humming machines under the watchful eyes of specially trained caregivers. At first I don’t recognize him. Then Regina pushes my wheelchair in front of the small, still body of a man, his head wrapped in white bandages, with machines all around, medical machines that even I don’t know the names of.

The tall, broad shouldered, green eyed, and brown haired man who used to be Jared is gone. Instead I look into a humming bed that holds a small, broken person, eyes closed, head shaved where bandages don’t cover. A machine breathes for him, regulating the rhythmic rising and falling of his chest. Plastic IV bags hang from poles with tubes dangling from pumps bringing fluids and medicines into his veins. A sheet covers his body, but I see that one leg is encased in a cast and elevated on special pillows. I can’t take it all in, it’s all too much.

Jared’s nurse is a tiny Asian woman named Jenny who looks very young to me. Her eyes are expressive and kind. Her hands adjust the knobs on the ventilator with such familiarity that I know Jared is being well taken care of. She speaks to me with precise English and just the slightest bit of an accent, very articulate and professional, as she tells me about Jared. I try to understand everything she says, but even as a nurse, a lot escapes me. I catch the drift that he had bleeding and swelling into his brain and a shunt had to be surgically placed to reduce the pressure. Dr. Mark Matthews, the Neurologist, is his primary doctor, and he’s listed Jared’s condition as grave. My mind flits to a cemetery and I picture Jared’s gravestone. Tears spring to my eyes and Regina pats my shoulder.

“Can you tell me the name of his next of kin?” Jenny asks.

I shake my head. “I only just met him,” I confess. “We were on our first date.” I feel ashamed that I can’t help Jared during his time of need. After all, he reached out and helped me with my loneliness when he saw my pain. My heart is breaking and tears cascade down my cheeks as Regina pushes my wheelchair back to my hospital room.

When I get to my bed, Regina watches me pivot from my wheelchair and then she adjusts my bed for comfort.

           
“I wish I could say something encouraging to soothe you, but I only know as much as you do. I have to give report now. It’s change of shift, but I’ll come see you after I clock out,” she says, and I feel the budding comfort of new friendship developing. Then I notice an irregular envelope on my bedside table. It hadn’t been there before.

           
I open the clasp and see that it’s from the police department. It contains a copy of the accident report and the business card of an officer asking me to call him. I hear jingling inside the envelope. Gentle shaking and keys fall into my lap. Jared’s keys. The policeman has made a mistake. Jared’s name and home address are on the tag. I count five keys, which include his car keys for sure, but one looks like a house key. I clutch the keys to my heart. I think I’ve found a way to help Jared. At least I can get into his house, maybe find an address book and notify the important people in his life. Tomorrow, after Serena comes to take me home.

Chapter Six

Tick-tock, tick-tock. This time it’s the wall clock in my hospital room that demands my attention. I’m so ready for discharge. Like a good girl, I’ve eaten my whole serving of bland hospital oatmeal, the half banana on my tray, and wolfed down the watery reconstituted orange juice. Regina has removed my IV and gone over my discharge instructions. Where is Serena? Could she have gotten lost on her way to pick me up?

I’m so ready to go, except I can’t get dressed until she brings me some clothes. I’ve had enough of this drafty, backless patient gown that leaves my butt uncovered. I glance over at the bag marked
patient belongings
on the side chair. I don’t remember coming to ER, the wailing ambulance or anything about them cutting off my clothes so they could examine me, but my ruined outfit is neatly folded inside that white bag. It gives me a hollow feeling to know I could have died. Jared still might.

I think about the accident and my phone conversation with the policeman yesterday afternoon. He wanted me to validate the bicycle rider’s account but I couldn’t.
 
It all happened so fast. I don’t remember anything, just seeing the flash of silver handlebar, feeling the forceful thrust, and then hearing a cacophony of noises. When Jared swerved to avoid hitting the bicyclist, the report says the car crashed into a telephone pole, then flipped over hitting a metal gate on the side of the road.

I neglected tell the officer he’d mistakenly given Jared’s keys to me. I’m fiddling with them, distracted by them, and deep in thought when Serena sails through the door looking like a spring breeze in the middle of a desert. I don’t remember ever feeling so happy to see her.

My sister is so pretty. Unlike me, she is tall, raven haired, and model slim. She dresses like a fashion diva despite being the mother of two small boys and a landscape artist by profession. You’d think she’d wear jeans and t-shirts for all the time she spends at construction sites, but not Serena. She always looks like she’s just stepped out of a fashion magazine. Me, I’m 5’4” tall, three inches shorter, and we weigh about the same. I’m not fat, not really, but I could be without too much effort if I didn’t watch myself. My hair is dirty blonde. Saying blonde is probably generous on my part, but I’d never say dishwater. You might think I’m jealous of Serena’s prettier looks, but opposite. I’m proud of her meticulous appearance, and I’m glad she looks different from me.

I hug her warmly and then change into the outfit that she’s brought. I’ve really never been so happy to see her as I am right now. I’m grinning like a fool. “Who’s taking care of the boys?” I ask.

“Justin decided to take some time off. He can work from home for the little bit he absolutely has to do,” she says. My brother-in-law, Justin, is a bore, a CPA who never smiles, but my sister loves him more than I can understand. My two nephews, Alan and Kirk, aged four and five, are, thankfully, more like my sister in personality than Justin. For an instant, thinking about them, I feel sabotaged by an unexpected twinge of grief for my dream babies. I shrug the grief aside, determined that nothing will ruin my newfound lease on happiness.

We’re still gabbing away, getting caught up, when Regina says I can go. Serena runs ahead to pull the car up to the hospital entrance, and I let a hospital orderly push me in a wheelchair. He helps me pivot into the passenger seat and watches while I buckle up. I sigh a big one as I wave good-bye. He turns back into the hospital and disappears behind the big glass doors. I feel good, can’t wait to be free of the invalid role, to ambulate without nurses hovering over me, to smell good clean outdoor air, and to spend some quality time reuniting with my sister.

We go directly to my apartment where I see that Serena has been busy. She’s made up my bed with clean sheets and fluffy pillowcases. The towels that hung in the bathroom from Jared’s visit are stuffed into the hamper out of sight. Serena has thought of everything. The refrigerator and cupboards, which I’d left bare, are stuffed full with fruits and vegetables, milk and meats, breads, cheese, crackers and rice. She immediately brews us some coffee, and the aroma permeates the rooms making everything feel warm and companionable.

 
I allow her a first sip before showing her Jared’s keys. “The officer gave them to me by mistake. In a little while let’s go find Jared’s apartment. I want to help him. Maybe I can locate his family and notify them of his condition. Otherwise he’s all alone,” I say.

“Is it legal for you to enter his place?” she asks, a furrow in her brow. My sister is always a stickler for rules, never willing to break any laws, or interfere with privacy rights, or be in possession of something she’s not supposed to have. I have to be careful here or she will sabotage the plan that has been brewing in my head.

“I have his keys. The cop gave them to me,” I say back to her. “Come on, Serena, Jared needs my help.” I sip my coffee and munch a graham cracker as I watch my sister think. You can almost see the wheels turning in her head when she thinks about something. She’s always been that way. It used to drive me nuts, but today I find it almost endearing. After all, she jumped onto the first flight from Hartford to San Jose to be with me during my time of need. She left her job, her little boys and Justin to come to me. Today, Serena can do no wrong.

She nods. “Okay, it seems like the right thing to do. What kind of work did you say he does? Did he say what company he works for?”

“Something with computers,” I say. “How hard can that be to find out?”

“Duh, this is the heart of Silicon Valley. There are a zillion computer companies in this area,” she says. “He probably has something about his work in his desk or something. We’ll find out. Surely, they must miss him at work. You’ll have to call in for him and let his boss know he’s in the hospital.”