The nurse anesthetist came in and began his assessment. He talked calmly to Kathleen as they began to move her toward the surgical wing. “We’ll take good care of you. Don’t worry about the food in your stomach. You’re going to be fine.”
Kathleen was beginning to fade, frightened words tumbling out. “Sam, call Gary… have to get to Gary.”
It was the longest four hours Sam had ever spent. They moved Kathleen from the recovery room into the ICU. Jesus, he thought, she looks like any other wounded soldier.
But she wasn’t: She was his sister in arms. The realization hurt.
Mike motioned to Sam and they walked out of the ICU. “It’s always hardest when it’s someone you know and respect.” Mike looked down at the floor, his lower lip quivering. “I need a minute, Sam.” He turned away to hide his anguished face. When he turned back, Sam could see the dots of moisture in the corners of his eyes. “I’m out after this tour. It’s my third. Gets worse every time.”
Mike cleared his throat. “The surgery went as planned, and we did what we could at this level of care. You know the drill. We repaired some of the blood vessels. Some were too damaged and we tied those off. We stopped the bleeding, and she’s not in any immediate danger.” Mike shook his head. “She was damn lucky. The knife missed her brachial artery, but there’s damage to nerves and tendons. It’s hard to say if she’ll ever regain the full use of her arm and hand.”
Mike fixed his eyes on Sam’s and said, “I heard you’re taking your leave to go to Landstuhl?”
Sam nodded. Bitter words spilled out of his mouth. “Our replacements are here. Perfect timing, huh?”
“I’m glad you can go. She’s going to need you. I’ve sent Gary my report. He’ll be running further tests to determine the extent of the damage. I know he’s assembled one hell of a team and if anyone can make Kathleen whole, it’s Gary.”
Sam knew that the surgery done in the CSH was only the beginning of a long, hard road. He sat next to Kathleen, looking at the chest tube coming out of her side and the nasogastric tube leading from her nose. He placed his hand gently over her left arm, avoiding the IV lines.
Kathleen struggled to open her eyes. “Sam?”
“Right here.”
“Gary?”
“All set.”
She moaned a soft sound filled with pain. “Journal… under mattress …”
Sam leaned closer to Kathleen. “I’ll get it before we leave for Germany.”
“We?”
“I’ll be going with you. From here on in, I’m your shadow.”
She remembered her helplessness. She was heavily sedated with her shoulder and arm immobilized. She was strapped to a litter, carried onto a C-17 and connected to monitors. She couldn’t move, but sometimes she heard an out of control moan coming from deep inside. People in Halloween costumes kept coming over to take care of her. She tried to tell them she was sorry, she must have left her costume at home, but they didn’t seem to understand her. Sometimes they held her hand and spoke in murmured tones. Sometimes they were silent and gave her something that made her sleep.
She tried to force her eyes open, but they didn’t seem to work. She wanted to fight the drugs, fearful of where she was being taken. Had she died and was this the flight to Hell?
They landed at Ramstein Air Base at night. She managed to open her eyes to see halos, cast by angels, floating in the sky. This must be Heaven. She never thought there would be so much activity in Heaven: buses and ambulances, and people in uniforms. They lifted her into an ambulance and someone held her hand and touched her forehead. She squinted and saw an angel. The angel leaned over and whispered, “Hello, my sister.” She tried to say something, but nothing came out. The angel talked to her again. “Remember the carousel ride?” He touched his lips to her forehead, an angel’s kiss as soft as a feather floating in air.
Gary stayed with her until she was moved to her room. He kissed her forehead again. “Sleep now. Sam will stay with you tonight. Tomorrow will be a busy day.”
She was moving through time and space. Sometimes, a group of people stood around her. She was presenting a paper on how to amputate a leg. She was describing the procedure in detail, but was suddenly moved into a spaceship before she finished. She heard buzzing, clicking, and whirring sounds. Someone said MRI and CT Scan, but she couldn’t remember what the words meant.
They took her back to her room and moved her into bed. She kept hearing someone groaning as the nurses got her settled. They kept saying they were sorry and they were almost done, but she thought they were talking to another patient. She slept until her drug haze gradually cleared, and she began to feel in touch with reality. Gary was standing next to her bed; she managed a weak, “Hi.”
“Welcome back. We had to keep you sedated for the tests. How’s your pain level?”
She spoke hoarsely. “Okay. No more drugs, please.”
“As few as necessary.”
“Please. I was hallucinating.”
“Have I ever told you you’re a pain in the ass? Do you want your bed raised a little?”
“Yes, to both questions. Sam?”
“I sent him to get some air and food. He’ll be back soon.”
Gary held her hand. “We always promised to be honest with each other. Here’s your situation. You have moderate to severe damage to tendons and nerves. Mike did a good job on your blood vessels, but we’ll need to do some repair work. My team is scheduled to operate tomorrow morning, six o’clock. You’re looking at eight to twelve hours of surgery. It’s a slow, delicate procedure. I’ve spent the last couple of years gathering a team of the best specialists, anywhere.
“We can repair the damage, but you’re looking at a long recovery. You’ll need months of physical therapy and even then, we can’t predict when or if you’ll get the full use of your arm and hand. I’ve requested an extended stay for you at Landstuhl. The best physical therapist is right here; her name’s Helen. You met her, but you kept talking about aliens and spaceships.”
Kathleen wanted to be as brave as the troops she had treated. They carried their wounds, more severe than hers, with such dignity. She owed it to them. “Gary, I can take the pain. I don’t want pain medication.”
“Trust me on this. I can’t have you thrashing around, undoing our fine work. You’ll be in the ICU for three to four days, then we’ll gradually wean you away from the meds.”
Kathleen sighed. She knew Gary was right. “Gayle and Robert?”
“I spoke to them, and they’ll be here by the time you’re out of the ICU. Any other questions?”
“Yeah. Is there someone special in your life?”
“Are you sure you aren’t hallucinating?” He smiled and spoke softly. “Yes, and don’t ask me who. If he wants you to know, he’ll stop by and wink.”
The door opened and a round-faced woman in her forties, wearing scrubs decorated with teddy bears, stood in the doorway. She was wholesomely pretty, with dancing hazel eyes, shoulder-length auburn hair, and a pleasingly plump figure. Helen projected natural warmth that immediately made Kathleen feel better.
Gary said, “Hi, Helen. Look who’s back from outer space. Kathleen, I’d like you to meet Helen. After me, she’s your way back.”
Helen walked over to Kathleen and held her hand. “Dr. Morales has you sitting up,” she shot a mildly disapproving look at Gary, “and I’ll bet you’re starting to feel nauseous.”
“I am, a little,” Kathleen admitted.
“Well, then,” said Helen. “I’m going to lay you down almost flat and get you some ginger ale.” She turned to Gary. “Okay with you, Dr. M.?”
Gary grinned. “I’ll fetch it myself.”
CHAPTER 12
Helen expected to find Kathleen alone and was surprised to see three people standing around her bed. It was unusual for patients to have visitors so quickly, but there they were, a worried-looking couple and a man in fatigues.
The couple introduced themselves as Gayle and Robe
rt Sutherland. The man in fatigues told Helen his name was Sam. They shook hands. Helen felt warmth and caring from Gayle and Robert, but felt something different when she touched Sam’s hand. For a moment their eyes met, and Helen felt an instant attraction. Sam loved the woman in the hospital bed, but was not in love with her. Helen could tell.
Helen leaned over and stroked Kathleen’s forehead, softly calling her name. Kathleen struggled to open her eyes. “Hi, Kathleen. You’ve been moved from the ICU, and you’re in your room. You have visitors.”
Kathleen’s eyes moved toward Gayle, Robert, and Sam. She mouthed Gayle’s name. Gayle walked over and used a tissue to wipe Kathleen’s eyes. “What is it, Baby?”
Before her eyelids fluttered and closed, she said, “Next room, next room.”
Gayle looked at Helen. “Do you know what she meant?”
“I don’t know how she would know, but there’s a young girl in the next room. Brought in late last night. Kathleen may have heard her crying when she was transferred from the ICU. I think she wants you to comfort her.”
“I’ll go in. How bad is she?”
“She may not walk again. It would be wonderful for you to spend time with her, but you all look exhausted, and you’re not going to do anyone any good by being here.”
Sam spoke as if there was cotton in his mouth. “We don’t want to leave Kathleen alone.”
“Why not take turns? Sam, how about if you take the first watch? Robert and Gayle, do you have a hotel room?”
They nodded.
“I think you should go to the hotel, get some rest, and come back in four or five hours,” Helen suggested. “Kathleen is still sedated, and they’ll be bringing her out of it gradually. My guess is she’ll be sleeping for at least the next six hours. I want to remind you, this is not a five-k race. It’s a marathon. The staff is awesome and nurses will be coming in frequently. I’ll come back and check on her every couple of hours, as well.
“I’m going to spend some time with Stephanie in the next room. The word is she has no family. Gayle, I’ll let the nurses know you’ll be visiting later on.”
Helen commandeered a recliner from the visitor’s room. Sam could doze on his watch, and she felt she was beginning to take care of him.
Helen returned to find Kathleen in a deep sleep, and Sam appearing more tired than ever. When Helen came into the room, Sam stood up chivalrously; and she liked that. To add to his cottonmouth, his eyes were now red and bloodshot.
Helen walked over to Kathleen’s bed and held her hand. “Has she been awake?”
Sam shook his head. “Once in a while she opens her eyes, but it only lasts for a moment. I’m surprised we haven’t met before, Helen. I’ve been in and out Kathleen’s room in the ICU for days.”
“I sneak in for a few minutes, usually in the early morning hours. The nurses let me roam the halls. I used to be one of them, before I fell in love with physical therapy. My kids need to know I’m around.”
“Kids? Doesn’t that baby them?”
“Sometimes I have to reach beneath the uniform and the bravado to get to their pain. To me, they are all boys and girls.”
Sam hesitated. “Helen, would you have coffee with me?”
“Have you eaten today?”
“Someone brought coffee and doughnuts.”
“I’m off in about an hour. My apartment’s in town, and you look like you could use a real meal.”
Helen fixed her “super salad.” She was sure it could cure anything, including fatigue and love sickness. The salad, overflowing with vegetables, along with roasted chicken and fresh pumpernickel bread, became their dinner. They fell into a comfortable rhythm of conversation, as if they had known each other for years, not hours.
“Sam, you look as if you’re ready to collapse. Where are you staying?”
“I’ve got a room at a hotel, but I need to find some other quarters. I’ve got a thirty-day leave and I just need a place to crash.”
“I’m gone most of the time and this little beauty,” she patted the couch they were sitting on, “opens into a bed. It’s yours to use for as long as you want.”
CHAPTER 13
She had lost weight since her injury and the confidence that had built up over the years evaporated. The outside began to match the inside and the muscles she had developed, atrophied. Now, she felt and looked like the lonely child who spent years in foster care.
Boston, 1980
The social worker, Mrs. Martin, was taking twists and turns into unfamiliar parts of Boston. Kathleen tried to remember she was a big girl, almost nine years old and shouldn’t cry. She sat in the front passenger seat with her hands covering her ears, hoping she would stop hearing her brother Devon begging her not to leave.
Mrs. Martin stopped at a drive-through and ordered hamburgers, fries, and Cokes. While they waited for their order, Mrs. Martin said, “I think you’ll enjoy living with Mrs. Adams. She’ll be your foster mother for a while.”
Kathleen remained silent wondering how long is “for a while.” She didn’t want to know if it might mean forever.
They sat in the car, eating their lunch. In spite of how much she hurt, Kathleen had to admit it was the best lunch she had had in a long time.
Mrs. Adams lived in a dingy frame house, in dire need of painting, on a squalid street, filled with vacant, dilapidated houses and overgrown, empty lots. Mrs. Adams opened the door and smiled, her lips held tightly together. “Whom do we have here?” she said, widening her grin as she looked at Kathleen. “What is your name, dear?” Kathleen had to fight her revulsion at the sight of the missing teeth in Mrs. Adams’ now wide maw.
“Kathleen, ma’am.”
“How old are you, Kathleen?”
“Almost nine, ma’am.”
“Oh, my, what a polite child. Do you have a nickname, dear?”
“No ma’am, just Kathleen.”
“Well, Kathleen, let me show you to your room.”
Mrs. Adams held onto the shaky banister and climbed the squeaky stairs. Kathleen watched as Mrs. Adams lumbered up each step and thought, if an elephant wore a muumuu with bright red flowers, it would look just like Mrs. Adams.
Mrs. Adams turned the antique glass knob on the sickly green door, which opened with a spooky coffin-lid sound. A fusty smell assaulted Kathleen’s nose. “This will be your bedroom,” said Mrs. Martin, smiling. “What a lucky girl to have your own room. Why, it even has a desk for you to do your homework on.”
Kathleen looked at the room, with cowboy wallpaper and a matching spread. A boy’s room, she thought dejectedly. Someday I’ll have a really pretty room with pink flowers on the wall.
From physician to patient, it was so strange to be on the other side of the bed, looking up instead of down. When the nurses asked her to rate her pain on a scale from one to ten, she said two, and smiled. They gave her over-the-counter acetaminophen. She gritted her teeth, and suppressed her tears.
She couldn’t chance any dependency on medication. That’s all I need, she thought. An ER physician with a record of prescription pain medications and limited use of my arm and hand. She felt the mark of Cain branded across her forehead.
The psychologist from Gary’s team came in to talk to her and do an assessment. Kathleen managed to chat casually while denying most of the symptoms listed on the military’s post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) checklist.
Images of the CSH kept returning, and she began to shake when she heard the rattle-rattle of the meal cart coming down the corridor to her room. The sound reminded her of used instruments thrown into soiled instrument trays as the staff worked on the wounded and dying. She didn’t want to be labeled with PTSD but she had all the symptoms and in her heart she knew.
The nightmares came every night: angry, black nightmares about her childhood. She couldn’t stop them and she couldn’t shake them.
“Kathleen, wake up, you’re having a nightmare.” Helen turned on the light to her room and Kathleen woke to see Helen holding
a medication cup.
Kathleen gasped and grabbed Helen’s arm. “Helen, what are you doing here?”
“I was called in earlier by the nursing staff. You’ve been having nightmares every night, and you’re giving them a hard time about taking your sleep medication. I’ve seen lots of troops trying not to take their meds. Toughing it through won’t bring anyone back. You need it now; don’t force us to find another way to give it to you.” Helen leaned toward Kathleen’s ear and added in a curt whisper, “Do you know your screams are waking other patients?”
Kathleen collapsed against the pillow. “Oh God, Helen, don’t be mad at me. I’m sorry; I thought I could fight them.”
“You can’t fight every battle at the same time. One battle at a time, and right now, I want to see you fighting to get the use of your arm and hand back. Promise me, you’ll take the meds every night before you go to sleep. If you can’t rest, you can’t heal.”
“I promise.” Kathleen reached for the cup and swallowed the pills. “Helen, I’m scared. Will you stay with me for a few minutes until I get sleepy?”
Helen felt that old familiar tug at her heartstrings when one of her babies needed her. “Wild horses couldn’t drag me away,” she said, and taking Kathleen’s hand, eased down beside her.
Tests and examinations showed Kathleen was healing. She was regaining some motion in her arm, but couldn’t open or close her hand. Everyone applauded her progress and told her to be patient. Her depression wound its way throughout her body. She was tired of trying and longed to curl up in a ball and sleep the day away.
Sam came in, looking rested. “Wanna play hooky for the day?”
“You’re kidding. Did you talk to God?”
“Almost. Talked to Gary and Helen. They both agreed. Helen told me about this great park next to a lake. We won’t have another chance. I’ve got orders to report to Fort Bragg.”
Kathleen knew that Sam could get his orders at any time, but this felt too soon.
Flowers from Iraq (The Storyteller and the Healer Book 1) Page 7