by Nancy Adams
“No!” Katie said, taking another bite.
“Yes! They had to cut one of the heads off, and the most tragic part is that they cut off the wrong one, so he became an entirely different person!”
“Really! Did he sue the hospital?”
“We're filing the case for him tomorrow morning! Going for eighteen dollars and twenty-seven cents in damages, and he wants his other head mounted and stuffed, so he can sit in his living room and talk to himself.”
Katie cracked up laughing. “You're so ridiculous,” she said. “I think that's how you win all your cases in court, you get the judge laughing so hard he can't remember what the case is about, so he just rules in your favor!”
Darren winked. “Something like that,” he said. “Long as it works, I'm okay with that technique, aren't you?”
“Whatever makes us rich, Babe,” Katie said. She finished the main course, and picked up the little cup of chocolate pudding that was dessert, dipping her spoon into it. “Mmmmm, this is good!” She wouldn't say another word until it was all gone, then mumbled something about wishing she had more of it.
“Well, I guess I can go mug the orderly,” Darren said, “but it could ruin my political ambitions. Would that be a good trade, a chance at the White House for a cup of pudding?”
“If the pudding is that good, I might have a hard time choosing. It really was pretty awesome.”
Darren snapped his fingers. “You know, those are the exact words used by the man who got two heads! That means they must hide the transformation drug in something that tastes really, really good, which is probably the only way they can get people to eat it. Are you feeling any funny new growths around your neck?”
Katie let her eyes go wide again. “No, but now that you mention it, I do see something strange,” she said. “And I'm looking at it right now!”
“Wait a minute, you're looking at me! Are you calling me strange?”
“Hey, Lover, if the shoe fits, wear it!”
Darren's phone rang just then, and he mumbled, “Saved by the bell,” as he took it out. “It's Dad,” he said, then answered the call. “Hey, Dad. We're just talking, no problem. What, already? I had sort of hoped we could stay longer than this, why can't—oh. I see. Yes, Sir. I'll be right down.” He ended the call and turned to Katie, who was staring at him. “Baby, I'm going to have to head back to Ralston right now, I'm afraid. Albert Matthews from the firm just showed up at my dad's office, said he heard about the wreck, and wants to see me A.S.A.P. I'll come back tomorrow, okay? Maybe I can drive myself by then.”
Katie looked disappointed, but smiled. “It's okay, Babe, I understand. And don't worry about me, I'll be okay, I've got the whole family here to keep me company. I'll be fine. If everything goes okay, maybe they'll let me go home tomorrow.”
Darren kissed her. “Knowing you, Honey, by this time tomorrow they'll be begging you to leave! I'll call you this evening, okay? Love you!” He got up and turned toward the door.
“I love you,” Katie called after him as he left the room, and then she began to cry again. She was alone in her room, and afraid, and the harder she tried to make her legs respond, the more depressed and scared she got. She was wiping the tears away when her parents and sister came back in, followed by a man and a woman who had just arrived.
“Well, well, lookie what we found!” said the thin, geeky fellow, and Katie squealed with delight.
“Jay, you absolute dork! And Sherry! Oh, I'm so glad to see you guys!”
“Yeah, well, we're just pretty glad you're still around to see!” said Sherry Higgins, who had been Katie's BFF since the third grade. “What do you mean, getting yourself almost killed in a car wreck?”
“And she didn't even invite us! How is that fair, I wanna know!” That was Jay Phillips. Jay had lived next door to Katie her entire life, and the two of them had been buddies since kindergarten. Jay was the friend who was always there for her, never let her down, and never judged her for her mistakes or foibles. If there was anyone who could help her cope with all of this, it was these two people.
“It's good to see you two,” Judy said, and Kylie actually hugged them both. She'd never been as close to them as Katie was, of course, but she still liked them, and seeing them show up to support her big sister made her feel good.
“Well, we heard about it the night it happened,” Jay said, “but no one knew at the time how bad it was, or where she'd been taken. We didn’t find that out ‘til yesterday afternoon. Everyone said she was in a coma, so we figured it was best to let you guys have some time, but we had to come today. Even if she really was in a coma, we'd want her to know we were here, whenever she woke up.”
“She was in a coma,” Kylie said, “until this morning.”
“No, I wasn't,” Katie insisted. “I could hear everything, and I could sort of feel when people were touching me, or sticking needles in me, and I really felt it when they drilled holes in my head, cause if they think you're in a coma, they don't bother with anesthesia, let me tell you! I don't know what was wrong with me, but it wasn't a coma, I know that!”
Allen touched her hand. “Dr. Capshaw called it something else, not a coma—a 'locked-in condition,' I think he said. Means you could hear and feel, but not respond.”
“Yeah, exactly, and it hurt!” Katie looked at her friends, who were sitting on the edge of the bed and crowding everyone else over. “Seriously, thank you for coming, guys. I need you.” Then the tears began all over again. “My—my legs don't work, and I can't—can't feel anything in them...”
Jay smiled at her and rubbed her shoulder. “That, my dear girl, is why this place is called a hospital! In case you didn't know, a hospital is a place you go to in order to get fixed when you get broken, the way my dad always takes his car to see your dad the day after he lets me drive it. If it's broken, you take it to the place where they fix it, and that goes for people as much as it does for cars.”
“Are you saying your dad's car is always broken after you drive it?” Allen asked.
“Yeah, pretty much,” Jay said. “I don't know what it is, I can drive any other car, but that one always develops a problem if I use it. I think it's just a personal issue, like that car just freakin' hates me! I mean, how many times can an engine spring an oil leak?”
“It can happen over and over, Jay, if you drive it down a road with deep ruts and big rocks. It's called cracking the oil pan.”
“Whatever,” Jay said. “So tell my girlfriend to move into town, and the car won't hate me as much.”
Sherry leaned close to Katie Lou. “So, okay, what are the docs saying about your legs? Any idea what's going on with them?”
Katie nodded. “The doctor says I've got bruising on my spinal cord that could cause temporary paralysis, but they don't know yet if it might be more serious than that. All we know right now is that my legs won't move, and I have no feeling below the waist. I can get my toes on my right foot to wiggle just a tiny bit, but that's it, and even then I can't feel anything. It's like they're moving on their own.”
Jay sucked in his bottom lip. “Well, that tells us that your spinal cord isn't completely severed, at least, because if it was, you couldn't get any movement down there at all. That's a good sign. And the fact that you've already regained some feeling and control means that you've got a greater chance of making a complete recovery. I did some research on paralysis for a paper once, and if I recall correctly, more than half the people who experience paralysis and recover some movement within the first few days find that they'll see more recovery at some point, and usually within no more than a few months.”
Katie was suddenly staring at him. “A few months?” she asked. “A few months? Have you forgotten that I'm getting married in three weeks? I know you can't have forgotten that, since you promised to write a new song for me, for my wedding!”
Jay shrugged. “I haven't forgotten, Katie-Cat,” he said, “but as you have so often reminded me, I am an emotionless cretin who is more clo
sely related to Mr. Spock than to the human race; I deal with facts and logic, and the facts say that there's a good chance you'll recover, but there's no guarantees that it'll be within the next few weeks. You gotta take that up with the Big Man upstairs, not with me. Songs I can write, but the future I got no control over.”
Sherry was holding Katie's hand and patted it. “Come on, Katie Lou, ignore him. If anyone knows you can make it, I do, and I'm your biggest fan...”
“Second biggest,” Judy said. “Momma always gets top spot on that!”
Sherry giggled. “Okay, second biggest fan. Either way, I'm the one who's gonna be working her butt off to help you make it, and you know I'm serious about that.”
“Ditto,” Jay said. “You're not cutting me out; this is my chance to test some of my theories about human physiology.”
“Jay!” Katie said. “I am not a guinea pig! If you've got ideas that might actually help, fine, but other than that, you can forget all your theories right now!”
Jay sighed. “I wonder if Leonardo da Vinci had this much trouble trying to learn about the human body?”
“Maybe he did, maybe he didn't,” Sherry said, “but then again, he didn't have the internet! You do, so if you've got any questions about how the human body works, go look up WebMD.com and leave my bestie alone!”
Kathy poked her head in at that moment, clearing her throat to get Katie's attention. “Hon,” she said, “I'm gonna be back in a few minutes with Dr. Capshaw. He's decided we need to do a spinal tap, so I need to ask everyone to leave the room for a few minutes. There's a waiting room down the hall you can use, and we shouldn't be more than fifteen minutes or so. Oh, wait, Mom, you can stay. She might want a hand to hold, for this.”
Judy smiled and rubbed a hand across Katie's shoulders. “You want Momma to hold your hand, Sweetie?” she asked teasingly, but Katie Lou looked quite serious when she answered.
“If they're gonna be stickin' needles in my back, then you better believe it! And if I squeeze real hard, it means they're hurting me!”
The rest of her visitors filed out, Jay and Sherry arguing about who would be most diligent about making Katie Lou work her legs and feet as much as possible. Allen and Kylie were talking about when Katie came home; Allen was working out where to put a ramp, since it was likely that she'd be in a wheelchair for some time, at least, and Kylie was saying that they should move her downstairs, temporarily, and put her in the guest room. It was plenty big enough, had a nice bed and a dresser already there, and the door was wide enough for a wheelchair.
They were still talking it all over when they got to the waiting room, and even a moment later when they heard Katie Lou scream.
4
The four of them hurried back down the hall, heedless of the fact that they had been told to leave the room only minutes before, and arrived just as Dr. Capshaw came out of the room, a smile on his face.
Allen stopped dead in his tracks and stared at the doctor. “You're smiling?” he asked. “But, wasn't that Katie who screamed just a minute ago?”
Dr. Capshaw nodded. “Yes, it was, and it's a good thing,” he said. “See, we had to draw some spinal fluid, and where we had to insert the needle is below the level where she didn't feel anything a bit ago, but when I stuck the needle in, she felt it. In reality, we used a local anesthetic, so there's no way she could have felt anything but the pressure of the needle going in, but she had herself so psyched up that it was going to hurt, even despite the anesthetic, that the very second I touched her with the needle, she screamed! Isn't that great?”
Allen continued to stare for a moment, then shook his head. “How is that great?” he asked. “Basically, what you just said is that the pain she felt was all in her head. How is that great?”
Dr. Capshaw smiled even wider. “Because she knew when the needle touched her,” he said. “She actually felt it, even though it wasn't really as painful as she thought it was going to be, and that means she's already regaining some sensation below the waist. Now, isn't that great?”
Allen, Kylie, Jay and Sherry all caught on at the same time, and began laughing with excitement. The doctor waved them on into the room, where Kathy was helping Katie to get comfortable again, and Judy was holding Katie's hand while her daughter smiled and wept at the same time.
“Daddy,” she said, as Allen and the others came into the room, “I'm getting some feeling back!”
“Yeah, we sorta figured that out when you screamed so loud,” Jay cut in. “The doctor said you were overreacting, but it still means you had some feeling back, so congratulations!”
Kathy shook her head. “If all of your friends are like these guys, I'm surprised you even speak to any of them,” she said as she left the room, but she had a grin on her face.
* * * * *
It was nearly two PM when Darren and his father got back to their home, and Mr. Matthews had been waiting for over an hour. He didn't seem upset about it, and assured James Allsip, Darren's father, that it was no trouble.
“Certainly Darren would want to go and see his young lady,” he said, “and frankly, if he didn't, he wouldn't be the kind of man we want in the House two years from now.” He looked at Darren. “How is she, Son?” he asked, “And how are you?”
Darren smiled, genuinely gratified that such an important man would come all the way to Ralston to ask after him and Katie Lou. “I'm doing okay, Sir. Katie Lou is the one who was most seriously injured, but she's doing better today than they actually expected. She'd been in a coma for a couple of days, but she's awake now, and though she's got some paralysis, she should probably make a fairly complete recovery. It may delay things a bit, but not much, I'm sure.”
Matthews sat there and looked at him for a long moment, and the longer it stretched out, the more uncomfortable Darren began to feel.
“Darren,” Matthews began, “I hope that your fiancé makes a rapid recovery, and a complete one. However, you need to understand some things about how politics works in the United States of America. You see, there are many different ways to win an election, and some of them leave you strong and powerful, while others leave you weak and vulnerable to attack. We're looking for someone who can be on the strong side of that equation, and we believe we’ve found him in you.”
Darren nodded. “Thank you, Sir,” he said, but Matthews wasn't done.
“The strong way to win an election, Darren, is to make sure that you're knowledgeable on the issues, that you know your constituency and what they want from you, and that you don't owe anyone any favors you can't repay without having to compromise your votes. That's what we hope to accomplish with you, when we field you as a candidate for Congress in two years. Given your high scores in college, your strong family connections to the party, and all of the training and grooming we've got planned for you, there's a fairly good chance that you can win the election when the time comes, and be quite a powerful player in Washington.” He smiled and nodded. “That's what we want. However, there is always the possibility that circumstances can leave you vulnerable, and that's the risk we're facing right at this moment.”
Darren looked at the old man for a moment, and then turned to his father, who was sitting beside him. James gave him a sad smile, but didn't say anything. He turned back to Matthews. “Sir,” he said, “I don't understand...”
“Darren, one of the ways to win an election is with a sympathy vote. It's been done many times, and it does work; the trouble is that it leaves you owing people, because they have to throw their own supporters behind you to get the most mileage out of it. That means that you get a very good majority, and you win your seat, but then you've got others in the House who can call on you, over and over again, and get your vote for whatever they want you to back. The reason they can do that is because all it takes is one word from them that your sympathy vote might have been, shall we say, less than realistic, and your political career is over, right that minute.” He paused, and Darren sat there without a word. He was beginning
to figure out what the old man was saying, and he didn't think he liked it.
“Darren,” Matthews said, “we'll need to keep a very close eye on this situation. If your fiancé recovers quickly, well, then there's no problem. If, on the other hand, it's going to be a prolonged recovery, or if it turns out she isn't going to walk again, then you're going to have to make a very hard choice, I'm afraid, because we can't afford to have a sympathy vote win. If your wife is paralyzed for any length of time, then it will become newsworthy once your candidacy is announced, and others in the House will see the opportunity to make sure you win, and owe them for it! We can't allow that; if the prognosis is poor, I'm afraid you'll have to either walk away from her, or from any hope of ever seeing a career in politics above the level of mayor.”
James put a hand on Darren's arm, because he could see the anger rising in his son. Yes, it was a hard thing to say to the boy, but it was also true, and Darren needed to get that through his head. Even if he chose the girl over his career, which would be understandable, he still had to come to the realization that this was nothing but politics, and not anything personal.
Personal lives had to be subject, sometimes, to the demands of the career and success that every man was designed to pursue. That had been true for thousands of years, even as far back as the days of the cavemen; if Ugh the caveman wanted to eat, he couldn't spend time worrying about what Oog, his wife, wanted. He got out and hunted! When men began to farm and cultivate fields, they spent many long days out there planting the crops and fencing in the animals, and hardly ever had time to relax or enjoy playing on the floor with their children.
Nothing had changed. If a man wanted success in his own chosen field, he had to give up worrying about family and wife and any other concerns, and tend to business. Darren would have to learn that, just as James had learned it twenty-seven years ago.