by Sam Carter
“Thanks. We, all the hospital staff, have worked hard on this today. We want our patients to get better and go home quickly.”
“Good. Glad to hear that. And let’s hope you can figure it out. Let’s hope that you don’t have too much to drink again and mess this whole thing up. Do you think you could go one night without drinking your weight in alcohol? You will find out what is wrong, and you will fix this mess. I will not let you, of all people, ruin my hospital and my reputation. Do you understand me?”
Harlan had had enough. He shot up from his chair and looked Josie straight in the eyes. “You listen to me, Josie.” He made sure to emphasize and draw out her name. “I couldn’t care less about your reputation. I couldn’t care one red cent. This is not about you. This is about the patients. This is about little Stacy Montgomery and her father. This is about their lives. We, the doctors who actually see patients, will figure this out. Not for you, Josie. For the patients.”
Harlan felt no need to explain to her that he was five months sober. He didn’t feel the need to waste his breath talking to her anymore about himself or any of what was going on. He was done and had no desire to hear anything further come out of this sorry woman’s mouth.
Chapter 8
Harlan walked away from his meeting with Josie. He could not believe the accusations and claims that had come from her mouth. He hated it even more when she called this “her hospital.” This wasn’t her hospital at all. Who cared about her reputation? Who was this woman, and what made her think she could say the things she said?
His head was spinning, and he could feel himself losing control. Just a few months ago, this kind of conversation would have taken Harlan directly to the closest watering hole to drown his sorrows until the bartender put the closed sign on the door and kicked him out. In fact, adding up all that had taken place today, he seemed to have the perfect excuse to jump right off the wagon again. Just one drink, and he would be transported away from all this stress for just a moment, and that sure sounded good.
But he knew better. He knew one drink wouldn’t be just one drink, but most likely nine or ten. He couldn’t contain himself. He was, to use a phrase often used in AA, completely powerless when it came to alcohol. He was weak, yes, but he was not going to give in this time. He had come too far in the past few months, and would not take even one step back.
Before he left for the day, Harlan decided he would stop by Stacy’s room. He was sure that her father would be there sitting by her bedside, holding her hand. Harlan was positive that this was harder on Phil than Stacy. She would be the strong one in the room, giving them all, Harlan included, the strength to make her better.
The door for room 418, where Stacy was staying, was closed. Stacy always asked for this specific room when she had to stay for any length of time. Even though Harlan may have prayed to escape Clara’s crazy conversations, he wasn’t religious by any stretch of the imagination. But Stacy was. Even after all she had been through, she still believed in a higher being that would help her. For that reason, she always wanted room 418 because it reminded her of her favorite scripture—John 14:18. Because the hospital didn’t have fourteen floors, she settled for 418 but always told Harlan she just pretended there was an extra one put on her door by an angel just for her.
During Stacy’s third stay at the hospital after her accident, Harlan decided to look up this scripture to see why this little girl loved it so much. That night he went into the hospital’s chapel, found a Bible, and flipped through until he came to the scripture. He was amazed by what he read.
“I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you.”
Harlan was dumbfounded that a girl who had lost so much loved this passage. How a girl who was in so much pain physically, emotionally, and especially spiritually could feel anything but anger was remarkable to Harlan. In fact, remarkable may be the best word in all the English language to describe Stacy.
The scene in Stacy’s room was not exactly what Harlan had been expecting. Yes, her father was holding her hand as she lay in her bed. Yes, Phil was extremely distraught and looked at the end of his rope. But Stacy was not the pillar of strength and comfort he thought she would be. The feeling in the room was the same as when he had seen her earlier in the day. It felt completely devoid of hope.
For what seemed like the thousandth time that day, Harlan took a deep breath to clear his mind. He knew he could not show a sign of worry or weakness as he met with these two enormously important people.
As he walked in, Phil looked up at him with a look of sheer desperation. After Harlan checked on Stacy to make sure she was resting as comfortably as possible, he asked Phil to sit with him and talk for a moment.
Phil slowly got up and moved to the little couch on which he had slept so often the past four years. Here the two of them had spoken often about Stacy and her health. Harlan had given him both good news and bad news on that very couch. Because he currently had no definitive answers to give to Phil, Harlan was unsure about what kind of news he would be delivering today. He just hoped beyond all hope that whatever came out of his mouth would give Phil some sort of comfort. This good man and loving father deserved that.
“How has she been today, Phil? Any signs of improvement?”
“I don’t know, Dr. Allred. I just don’t know.” Phil was on the verge of tears. He had been crying, that was obvious, but right now he was all dried up—like he wanted to cry, but he just couldn’t get it out.
Harlan knew he would have to ask more direct questions to get answers. This was the toughest part of his job because he didn’t always like the answers he got, but he needed the specifics to give them the help they required.
“Talk to me about how she is doing. How is she acting? How are her spirits, Phil?”
“She goes back and forth. One second she looks like she is about to be Stacy again. Happy. Smiling. Loving. Then before she can get there, the pain returns. And with that so does the look of horror in her eyes. I don’t know, Dr. Allred. I just don’t know.”
Harlan needed a moment to take in Phil’s description. Look of horror in her eyes? He did not think it was possible for Stacy to have that type of look. What in the world was inflicting her and all these other kids?
“And the pain she is in,” Phil continued, “it’s getting worse. When you saw her earlier it was as if it started from her toes and moved throughout her body. Now it just hits and hits her hard in every single part of her body. Both inside and out. It’s unbearable. I never thought that anything would be unbearable for her.”
“Phil, I want you to know how sorry I am. Words cannot describe how much I wish this were not happening.” Harlan was telling the complete truth. How he wished they were not having this conversation, now or ever. But they were; this was the reality. He had to keep going. “Unfortunately, it is happening, and I do not have any clear answers for you right this moment.”
If there was any hope in Phil before, it disappeared when Harlan told him that—like Harlan had opened a window and the wind had carried it away. Harlan knew he had only a moment to decide what to say to give him more hope and help him get through the night.
“But, we are already running tests and we have some ideas that could lead to answers soon. The lab will be working on this first thing, and you will be watched over closely by Clara tonight.”
“Clara? She doesn’t normally work nights, right? She is going to be here for Stacy?” Now there appeared to be some optimism in Phil’s eyes. Clara did that for a lot of people.
“Yes, sir. She went home this afternoon to get some rest so that she could be here tonight to keep her eyes on you two. She even canceled some big important date for you. I didn’t think that was possible!”
A little smile seemed to appear on Phil’s face for a second. That was a welcome sight.
“There is one other thing I think you should know,” Phil said, hesitating like he was mentally debating whether he should say anything at all. Harlan didn’t like to
push people, he wanted them to feel comfortable.
“Stacy’s nightmares have become, um, clearer.”
Stacy had been plagued by vivid and disturbing nightmares since the accident. She would live through the accident again, but in slow motion. She could see everything that happened to her mom perfectly. She would feel the pain of losing her all over again. It was always a horrible experience. Harlan wished he could at least take those away. Now they were clearer, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.
“She’s starting to see the other car. Not the one that hit them, but the one that swerved in front of them. And the driver. She is starting to visualize the driver. It’s still fuzzy, but every day it’s getting easier for her to see.”
This was news. No one had seen the car that caused the accident. It had driven off without incident, and everyone was more focused on saving those that were left behind. How Harlan wished he could find that person and show him (or her) the damage that had been done; show them the lives they had ruined.
“Wow.” That was all Harlan could think to say.
“That was my reaction when she first told me, too. Part of me wants to know, but another part just wants us to move on. You know what I mean?”
If Harlan were being honest, he didn’t know what Phil meant at all. This person deserved to pay. But he nodded his head like he agreed, hoping that might comfort Phil a bit.
“Anyway. You will be at the game tonight, right? Your son coming with you again?” Phil knew of Harlan’s love for the Mariners, and that lately Jack had been coming with him to more and more games.
“Yup. I’m on my way out now to go get ready and pick him up. But if you need anything, you know how to get in touch with me. Do not hesitate for one second.”
“I know. But I want you to enjoy every moment with your son. You never know when it might all disappear.” Phil looked back at Stacy with a longing for her safety and quick return home.
“Wise words, Phil. Very wise words. Now get some rest. Clara will be here soon, and I will see you in the morning. We are going to figure this out. And soon.” But as those words of comfort left his mouth, Harlan was unsure if he believed them himself.
Chapter 9
Lucy watched Harlan as he finished up with Stacy and her father—admired, actually, was a better word for it. As a nurse, she had worked with a lot of doctors and most of them were incredible at taking care of their patients, but none did it quite like Harlan. His skill was only matched by his love for his patients and their families.
“How are they doing?” Lucy asked as Harlan walked out of the room.
“Oh, hey Lucy. Didn’t see you there. They are ok. Not great. Hard to tell, actually.”
“Anything that you need me to do for them tonight?”
“Just the normal great work you do, Lucy. Clara will be here to be with them and the others soon. I hope that works for you.”
“Always helpful to have her here. She knows them best,” Lucy said, attempting to hide her jealousy. What she wouldn’t give to be Harlan’s right-hand woman, his go-to nurse.
Another thing she admired about Harlan was how he wore his emotions on his sleeve. Many people have the false impression that doctors moved on easily and could just go onto the next case, but this wasn’t true. Lucy had met very few doctors that did. Most would hide it and pretend all was well, but not Harlan.
Another thing she admired about Harlan.
Lucy clearly remembered him coming out of that very room a few years ago after rounding on a patient who was having a harder recovery than anyone expected. The little seven-year-old boy’s surgery was supposed to routine, but there had been complications that were causing pain that no child should feel.
“Dr. Allred?” she had asked him as he walked by her desk. “Is everything all right with Curtis?”
He paused, looked at her, and just shook his head. He started to walk down the hall to check in on another patient, but he stopped and looked back at Lucy.
“Ya know what?” Harlan had said with a sad look in his eyes, the type of look a child has when their favorite toy goes missing or breaks in two. “I don’t care what anyone says. This never gets easier.”
“I completely agree, Doctor. It never does.”
“If it ever does, if I ever get so hard-hearted that I just move on to the next patient and don’t seem to care, then you have my permission to slap me as hard as you can in the face to get me back on track.” A smile started to form on corner of his lips for a brief second before the sad look returned. “And if that doesn’t work, it’s time for me to find a whole new career. Probably in pharmaceutical sales. You don’t need a heart for that.”
Lucy had laughed a little as Harlan winked at her and took a deep breath to reset himself before going on to help the next patient.
Anyone watching could tell it hurt him to see his patients and their families struggle. He always used that hurt to work harder and find the solution. It always amazed her not just how much he cared, but how much he showed it.
“You enjoy your night with your son and don’t worry about us here. We’ve got this.”
“I know you do. They’re in good hands. But, don’t worry about them? Have we met? These are my patients. And that little girl in there? Stacy Montgomery? She’s special. Take care of her.”
Just another thing she admired about him—how candid he was with the nurses. Never making them feel like he was somehow better than they were.
Was admired even the right word at this point? She more than admired Harlan. She kind of felt pathetic thinking about it. And she felt great, too. If she wasn’t careful she was going to start twirling her hair and giggling like a high school girl.
“Thanks. We appreciate your faith in us. Now go. Enjoy some family time.”
“Will do,” he said. He slowly walked away while Lucy admired, yeah admired, the view.
Chapter 10
This was the perfect opportunity for Harlan to learn how to do that whole compartmentalizing thing other people were so good at doing. He had had a horrible day at work, but he was going to leave that where it deserved to be left—at work. Tonight he would concentrate on enjoying a night at the ballpark with his son. Jack had a right to that.
Harlan was going to enjoy his night eating hot dogs, peanuts, and Cracker Jack with his son. He was going to compartmentalize the struggles of the day and watch history take place at the ball game. And, as the song they always sang during the seventh inning stretch goes, truly he didn’t care if he ever got back.
Harlan was snapped out of his thoughts by the loud ring coming from his cell phone. He was sure that whenever it rang the people in the car next to him answered theirs, too, and he could not for the life of him figure out how to turn it down. Oh well. At least he would be able to hear it, even if he were on the top of the Space Needle and had left it at home.
As Harlan put his Bluetooth in his ear, he looked to see who the incoming call was from. He was afraid that it would be Barry wanting to talk about Harlan blowing up on Josie. He was worrying about the impending lecture when he finally saw the name flash across his screen. It wasn’t Barry or anyone from the hospital for that matter. No, it was the love of his life. The one he let get away. It was Emily. And just looking at her name caused Harlan’s heart to skip a beat. Cheesy? Sure, but he didn’t care.
As Harlan was about to answer the phone, his mind was brought back to another day just like this one. It was his freshman year at the University of Washington and he was enjoying what many people longingly called the best years of their life. But this day was the most special of all those special days. It was the day he met Emily.
That fall day all those years ago, as Harlan was walking into a party, he noticed the most beautiful girl he had ever seen on her way out. The truth is, there was one thing that separated Emily from every other woman on campus. Since they were in Seattle, the normal college experience of the co-eds spending too much time trying to make themselves look pe
rfect for the party by wearing short skirts and low-cut tops with not a hair out of place wasn’t what happened there. The grunge look was without a doubt the thing, but not for Emily. She was wearing jeans and a Ken Griffey Jr. jersey. Perfection. Absolute and utter perfection.
She stole Harlan’s heart that very moment. Here was a girl who came to a party in not just any jersey, but the jersey of the player who represented the future of all of baseball.
The only problem Harlan had was one simple fact: he was horrible with girls. Always had been, and he was certain he always would be. He wasn’t some hideous troll who scared the girls away with just his horrible glance. Some, and by some Harlan meant his mom, might say he was quite the looker. So it wasn’t so much that girls didn’t like him. It was more that he turned into a bumbling fool every time that he tried to talk to any member of the fairer sex.
Actually, it was quite humorous for everyone around him, and they turned it into a game. His friends would attempt to set him up with girls just to see how he would mess it up. They called it “Harlan Bawl” because it usually ended with him crying, and the girl crying, too, either from horror or laughter. And now he was faced with the daunting task of trying to speak to and ask out the girl of his dreams. And all he could think was, “How will we both end of crying once I open my mouth?”
Harlan started out with his best pick up line. “Hi.” She was hooked, he could tell. Mostly because she returned the favor with a line of her own.
“Hey.” Wow. She was just as smooth. Could this girl get any more perfect?
Then something strange happened to Harlan. His throat didn’t get dry, his thoughts didn’t get all jumbled up, and when he started to talk, words flowed freely. It was amazing. If only his friends could see him now.