Beyond the Borderline Bk. 02

"I need to know, Mom - how bad?"

She took in a shuddering breath, steeling herself before beginning. "You've been sedated for four days. You broke your left arm. They're going to have to do surgery on that in a day or two to fix it properly. Most of the ribs on the right were broken and your lung was collapsed. You had lacerations of your left kidney and spleen that they were able to repair, thank God. Mitch is going to be okay. He dislocated his shoulder and mangled his left leg very badly. They're not sure if it's salvageable, but they are trying to keep from amputating. He went up to the rehab floor yesterday. Molly had a fractured pelvis and dislocated hip." Mom's voice broke then and I knew. "Ricky...Emmy's...our little baby...she's....she's ...very sick. The doctors don't know if she's going to make it."

I didn't think it was possible to feel any more pain than I was already in, but Mom's words were like a physical blow. Everything suddenly hurt twice as much and I felt like the life was being squeezed out of me. It was all I could do to simply nod, tears running down my cheeks. It was some minutes before I could speak. "What happened?"

"The police said it was a miracle that Alain avoided a head-on collision. The back of the truck clipped the car and it flipped over the guardrail and cartwheeled down an embankment. Your side of the car hit a big tree, right by Alain's door. Ricky...Alain...he died instantly."

Mom broke down and was unable to continue. We held onto each other's hands desperately, each trying to draw strength from the other. Eventually Mom found her voice. "Both of Emmy's legs were broken and her liver was badly damaged. They did surgery, but the liver is still not working right. If things don't begin to turn around in the next 24 hours...we may lose her," she sobbed, completely losing her voice.

"Not again," I whispered. My daughter, at death's door, my good friend and mentor Alain, gone, just like Gramps and Nana, it was more than I could take. As I lay in the bed, tears streaming down my face, I got angry. "Fuck this. I need to see Emmy." I began pulling out my IV and reached for my chest tubes. Mom was at my side in an instant, grasping my hands with surprising strength.

"For God's sake, Ricky, settle down. There's nothing you can do. Please. Please sweetheart." She was weeping as she held me back in the bed, pinning my hands as I cursed and struggled weakly. A nurse appeared with a syringe in hand, but Mom waved her off. "Please, Ricky," she whispered, "Please don't do this. I need you. I need you to get better. If I lose you too, I don't know what I'll do," she sobbed.

Looking at Mom crying, I finally came to my senses. I relaxed and laid back, touching her cheek with my good hand. "I'm sorry, Mom," I whispered. "I won't leave you, I promise. I'll get better, I will. Please don't cry. I'll be here for you."

Mom smiled wanly and hiccuped a couple of times, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, smearing her makeup. "I told your doctors that if..." her voice caught and she corrected herself. "When you woke up that wild horses wouldn't keep you away from Emmy, so they'd better figure out how they were going to accommodate you, so I guess we'll have to have that discussion with them now."

Mom gestured to the nurse who was hovering outside my room. "Dana, could you please see if Doctor Sykes is available to talk with us?"

"I'll page him right now, Mrs. Lewis. He wanted to know right away when your husband woke up. If he's not in surgery, he should be over shortly."

About 10 minutes later Dr. Sykes showed up. He was almost the medical cliché of a trauma surgeon, sandy-haired, muscular, athletic, straight talking and with a decidedly no-nonsense manner. He looked as though he was probably born wearing a pair of scrubs. He stood in the doorway to the room, perusing my chart, pulling thoughtfully at his lower lip as he digested my latest vital signs and lab results. He then strode quickly to the side of my bed and took my hand. "Howdy, I'm your surgeon, Brendan Sykes. I'm very glad you're awake. We've been rather worried about you for the last few days. How do you feel?"

"About how I look- five pounds of crap in a three pound bag. Happy to be alive."

"You are one tough hombre, my friend. When you came in, I told your wife it was maybe one in four or one in five that you would make it. Our entire crew is very glad you're still with us."

"I have a lot to live for," I replied, nodding towards Mom.

"I think your wife willed you to stay with us. Except for a couple visits to the PICU to see your daughter, she hasn't left your side since you came out of surgery. We got the word from on high early on that we'd better not tangle with her," he added drily.

"From on high?"

"Seamus MacLeish is on the board of directors of the hospital. He's the one who laid down the law. A formidable, man, Mr. MacLeish is. May I ask how you two know him?"

"I'm a partner in his firm, Dr. Sykes," Mom replied.

"No kidding. That explains quite a lot, I guess."

"About our daughter, Dr. Sykes..."

"Well, I'm not technically part of the pediatric trauma team, but I've been keeping an eye on things. I think it's safe to say that there were a few encouraging signs in her latest labs, but I don't want to speak definitively at this point. What I can do is have Dr. Krishnamurthi stop by to give you an update later this afternoon. He was her surgeon."

"I need to see her, doc."

"I understand," Dr. Sykes commiserated, "But that's just not possible right now. Believe me, if I was in your shoes, I'd be champing at the bit myself, but it's just not safe yet. I've gotten you this far, and I'll be damned if I'll let all of that work go to waste. You know, while you were in surgery, your heart stopped - twice."

Mom gasped as she heard this, clutching my hand in painfully tight grip; it was apparently news to her as well. Dr. Sykes turned to her and spoke apologetically. "I'm not going to say I'm sorry we didn't tell you Mrs. Lewis. Under the circumstances, I felt that level of detail was not going to help you get through this. You were here for your husband, and that's what is most important. I hope you understand that we also have an indirect responsibility for your well-being."

Mom nodded, "I appreciate your concern for my feelings, Dr. Sykes, but from this point forward, I hope you let everyone know that both of us want to be fully in the loop," she said firmly. "I've been through this once before, you know. I lost both of my parents in an accident some time ago."

"I'm so sorry to hear that. I can't imagine what the last four days have been like for you. We will definitely keep the lines of communication open. Now, let's get down to what I came here for."

Dr. Sykes pulled out his stethoscope and gave me a thorough going over. "Ah, very good - I can hear a few bowel sounds now. Perhaps we'll start some clear liquids tomorrow. Your right lung sounds much better today also. We'll check a chest x-ray in the morning. If there's no evidence of residual lung collapse, we'll get those tubes out of your side as well."

Dana handed my chart to Dr. Sykes and he made some notes. "I'll make sure the team taking care of little Emily knows that they are to keep you informed. I think it will help your stress level and hopefully let you worry less, which will be good for your recovery."

Dr. Sykes again came back to the bedside and shook my good hand. "I'm so very pleased to see you on the mend, Mr. Lewis," he said sincerely. "Let's not do anything to jeopardize our progress. I promise, I will do everything in my power to get you in shape to see Emily at the earliest possible moment."

Mom came to the side of the bed and gripped my good hand. "He'll behave himself, Dr. Sykes - I'll see to it." She smiled, kissed me and then glared at me balefully. "Won't you, Ricky?" she inquired with steel in her voice.

"God, you're a hard woman. Yes, I'll be good," I capitulated.

Keeping her hand in my grip, I waited for the nurse and Dr. Sykes to depart. "You okay, Mom?" I whispered hoarsely.

"Now I am, son. I was so worried..." Her tears started afresh.

"Don't cry, Mom. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere except home with you and Emmy. I promise. I promise."

Just then, Mom's Blackberry began chirping. Rummaging in her purse, she finally found it after several frantic seconds. Glancing at the screen, she said "It's Marcia."

"Go ahead and take it, Mom - it may be important."

"Hi, Marsh. Yes. Yes...he's awake. Everything's fine. Yes, thank God. No, still no word on Emmy. We should know more tomorrow. Yes - I'll talk to them now. Put it on speaker? I'll do the same."

I heard Marsh call Anna and Dee Dee to the phone. "Hey girls - want to talk with Daddy?"

There were sounds of a mad scramble in the background and then breathless voices, completing each other's sentences. "Daddy! You woke up! Are you okay? Do you boo-boos still hurt? When are you coming home? We miss you!"

"Hi girls," I croaked. "I'm doing good. Mommy's here with me. She's making sure I'm going to get all better. Guess what - if my doctor says it's okay, you can see me tomorrow."

"Goody! Hooray!" was the chorus. "Guess what Daddy - Fiona, Uncle Shawn and Auntie Marsh are taking us out for pizza! She says we can celebrate!"

"That's great! Maybe you two can do me a favor - will you each eat a slice for me?"

"Of course, Daddy," Dee Dee replied indignantly. "I'm going to have pepperoni and Anna's going to eat a slice of sausage n' shrooms."

"That sounds fantastic. But, I was kind of hoping you'd have a slice of banana and tuna fish, or maybe peanut butter and tofu," I teased.

"Daddy - you are sooo bad!" Anna scolded.

"You make sure you have a good time, both of you. Don't give Auntie Marsh and Uncle Shawn a hard time, you hear?"

"Yes, Daddy. Auntie Marsh wants to talk to you some more. 'bye."

"Bye, girls. See you tomorrow."

Marsh got back on the line. "Thank God you're back with us, Rick. It's so good to hear your voice. I don't want to tire you out, but there's one more thing I wanted to tell you both. I put on my queen bee hat day before yesterday and put the word out on my street. Someone will be by to check on you and Jen in a little while. She's a member of our community, as it were. I don't want to say anything more specific over the phone, but you'll know her when you meet her. 'Kay?"

"Thanks, so much Marsh," Mom replied. We'll wait for her. And thanks for looking after the munchkins - I don't know what we would have done without you."

"Anything for my skin sister, you know that Jen."

"Let me know when you're ready to tuck the girls in tonight, so I can say goodnight to them."

"Will do. Bye."

I was suddenly terribly tired. The simple phone call taxed me to my limits and I found myself slipping off to sleep. I vaguely remember mumbling my apologies to Mom and was then out like a light.

I woke some undetermined time later when someone came into my room. The lady I saw at the foot of my bed was dressed in freshly pressed black scrubs, impeccably clean and crisp. Her nametag read "Carrie Hamilton - Trauma Nursing Supervisor." She was of medium height, with straight, glossy black, shoulder length hair, containing a few wisps of gray. Her bosomy figure was full and curvaceous, but not overtly plump. She appeared consummately professional, radiating an aura of calm competence. She strode up to Mom and introduced herself. "Hello, I'm the head of nursing here on the trauma unit. My name is Carrie. I'm so glad to see Rick is doing well. Our sons are entirely precious, aren't they?"

Mom did a double take at her words, but then recovered. "Marcia told us to expect someone, but we didn't know who."

"When I heard about your situation on the Site, I got back to Marcia immediately. It's always a pleasure to meet a member of our special club, even though I deplore how this has happened. I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to my John. We both lit candles for the two of you at Mass yesterday."

"That's very kind of you, Carrie. It means a lot to both Rick and me that you're willing to help us out right now."

"Believe me, it's my pleasure."

Carrie cast an appraising eye over Mom and spoke briskly. "Jennifer, if I may be so bold, you look like hell. I want you to come with me. We'll go over to the call room and get you a shower and I'll scare up some scrubs for you. I took the liberty of coordinating with Marcia and someone will be by with some of your things later tonight."

"Thank you so much, Carrie, I don't know what to say, you're being so kind to us."

"It's not a big deal, believe me. Now, one other thing: This is strictly off the books, as it were, but I've made arrangements for a cot. You can stay in the room if you'd like," Carrie murmured, lowering her voice so no one else could hear.

Mom smiled and stepped up to Carrie and gave her a hug. "Thanks. I'm very much in your debt."

"Nonsense. I won't hear of it. Moms like us have to look out for one another. I'm sure you'd feel the same way if our positions were reversed."

Turning to me, Carrie smiled warmly. "You rest up some more now, Rick. I'll have your Mom back in a jiffy."

"Thanks, Carrie. I think I'll doze a little bit while you get Mom squared away."

With that, Carrie escorted Mom out of the room and I closed my eyes. When I came around again, Mom was seated in her chair next to me, a small smile on her face. Her hair was slightly damp and her cheeks were rosy. She actually looked great in her borrowed, light green scrubs, nicely filling them out in all the right places. "You look much better, Mom."

"Carrie is a lifesaver. I feel whole for the first time in days. Mostly though, it's knowing you're okay, Ricky. I have my wonderful son back."

"I'm glad to be back, Mom. You know, those scrubs suit you. They're very fetching."

Mom got up and sat next to me on the edge of the bed, holding my hand. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph, Ricky! At death's door for days, awake for less than 8 hours and you're already ogling your Mom? I guess you really must be on the mend," she said as she slapped my wrist.

"You know, I am going to need lots of TLC as I recover, Mom," I replied slyly.

"Behave yourself, you bad boy! Keep your comments to yourself or I'll give that catheter down there a jerk. That'll settle your hash, but good."

"Yes ma'am."

At the risk of stating the obvious, being in the ICU is no fun. When you are deathly ill, you don't notice a lot of what is going on around you, but when you recover enough to be awake, but not enough to be put on a regular floor, you really see how damn busy the place is. Nurses and aides, phlebotomists, radiology techs, doctors, residents and students are all constantly buzzing in and out of your room. Between the ceaseless interruptions and the never-ending background noise of EKG monitors, IV pumps and mechanical ventilators, you get very little rest. Getting your life saved is tiring. I also had a lot of time to think, which had its own downside.

I thought back to the day we brought newborn Emmy home from the hospital. From the very beginning, she had more personality than quite a few adults I knew. It seemed as though she knew her life began as a second chance and that it was essential to enjoy every minute of it. In contrast to Jason, who was so colicky as an infant that Mom and I felt like we needed antipsychotic medications to get from day to day, Emmy began sleeping through the night within three months. She walked a full 2 months sooner than our other children and we heard "mama" and "dada" when she was only five months old. At sixteen months, she brought tears to our eyes with her first sentence: "Lub you mama." She had as sweet a disposition as I've ever encountered in a child and never had tantrums. Her older sisters loved her to pieces and Emmy gave back as good as she got. Her mere presence in a room was enough to elevate the mood of everyone there.

No parent ever wants to admit it, but we all have our favorite children, even though we unreservedly love every one of them. Emily Jeanne is our special child that way, seeming to express our best characteristics without our weaknesses, fully embodying the love Mom and I had for each other. And then she was nearly taken from us in the blink of an uncaring eye. As I sit here in the lanai, telling my story over 50 years later, my own life gnawed to a ragged stump by time, those memories still bring tears to my eyes. It is a most terrible thing to see your child's life hang in the balance.

Seeing Deirdre, Anna and Jase for the first time since the accident did more to accelerate my recovery than any wonder drug. My kids needed me. Mom needed me. There wasn't time to be sitting around feeling sorry for myself. After about another week, I left the ICU. Once on a regular floor, I started my rehab like a man possessed, pushing myself to the point where I was alarming even the most sadistic of my various and sundry therapists. About a week later, I was sent to a rehab facility for another 10 days. It was very difficult to accept that I could only walk about 20 feet with assistance at first, me who was used to going on a 10K run 3 or 4 times a week. I think I set some kind of record for getting out the door of rehab. I pushed myself to the limit every single day and I think they let me go simply so they wouldn't be responsible for me crashing and burning while in their care. Whenever I thought I couldn't do any more on a particular exercise or treatment, all I had to do was pull out a snapshot of my family and I then found a way to get things done.

On my second day out of the ICU, I had an unexpected guest. I had been resting after a physical therapy session when I heard a hushed commotion outside my door, followed by the somewhat breathless entry of my day shift nurse, Della. "Ohmygod, Mr. Lewis, You have Visitors," she exclaimed, eyes wide as saucers. "I had no idea..."

"Hello, sugar. How are y'all?"

The voice was instantly recognizable, a slow, melodious, molasses-sweet drawl, right off the bayou. The owner of the voice was an auburn-haired vision of mature pulchritude, probably the second-most beautiful woman I knew.

"Gina! What on earth are you doing here? I thought you and Paul were on tour."

"That's not important, sugar. What is important is friends and family. You, Jen, Marsh, Shawn and the kids are just about the only people who are close to Paul and me. How could we not come, once we heard from Marsh about what happened?"

"Where is Paul?"

"'Uncle' Paul is visiting with Jen and the kids right now and 'Aunt' Gina is gonna join him just as soon as I'm satisfied that the folks here are takin' good care of y'all. We'll be stayin' with Jen for a short spell and helpin' out Marsh. That poor girl has been runnin' herself into the ground lookin' after everything since the accident. Besides, as one of your business partners, I need to do my part to protect our investment," she said, smiling as she sat next to my bed.

Turning more serious for a moment, she took my hand and kissed my cheek. "Praise the Lord you're all right, Rick. When we heard about you and little Emmy, it was like gettin' punched in the stomach. I just about died when I first heard the news. I feel much better now, seein' for myself that you're okay."

Taking her hand, I gave it a long squeeze. "Thanks for coming by, Gina. Thanks for caring."

"How could I do anything else, Rick? I swear Jen is my long-lost sister and you, you're practically another son to me."

"I should be so lucky, Gina," I chuckled.

"Now you hush, you heah? Y'all are embarrassin' me. Your momma is right, you are silver tongued devil, in more ways than one."