by E. R. Mason
Bright florescent light. Antiseptic smell. Crisp white sheets bordered by chrome side rails. A tube from the left arm running up to a clear bag hanging from a silver stand. The noises of busy people. Who am I?
Cassiopia looked over the room as the volatile memories of days recently passed flowed back into her mind. She touched her forehead where there was a sore spot and found it covered by a big band aid. The movement alerted someone nearby.
“Oh! You’re awake!”
The woman wore green scrubs and a hairnet. She turned and waved through the big glass window, motioning to someone outside. “How do you feel?”
“Where am I?”
“Pariss Medical Center in Morgantown.”
“Scott….”
“Your husband is stable and receiving treatment. You’re in ICU. He’s in the next room.”
“How long have I been here?”
“You arrived yesterday evening. You’ve been asleep a little more than twenty-four hours. The doctor asked to be notified as soon as you were awake. He’ll be in shortly to answer the rest of your questions.”
“My father. I need to let him know….”
“He’s on his way.”
Cassiopia clutched at the sheet with both hands and wondered if it had all been a dream. Before she could decide, a middle-aged man in a white lab coat with a stethoscope in one hand and a chart in the other came speeding in. He stood close at the side of the bed and stared down affectionately.
“I’m Doctor Palmer. Quick look in your eyes?”
Cassiopia looked up at him as he flashed his light into each eye. She could not hold back her concern. “Scott?”
“What’s your relationship?”
“We’re engaged.”
The doctor lifted his chart, grabbed the pen attached to it, and wrote something. “I’m sure you know patient info is confidential. Under the circumstances, I’ll accept that. The swelling is down in his legs. They’ve been stabilized with braces and will be fine. His blood count is almost back to normal. He’s out of danger for the time being.”
“For the time being?”
“There’s still the concussion. Dr. Shauani from neurology will be in to brief you on that.”
“Is he awake?”
“No, and they do not want him awake right now. But, as I’ve said, Dr. Shauani will need to discuss this with you. It would be wrong of me to say anymore. I am not up to date enough on his treatment.”
“Has he been awake at all?”
“Let’s wait for Dr. Shauani. Let’s talk about you instead. Besides the bruising, the hypothermia, the dehydration, mild frostbite on the fingers and toes, and the exhaustion, any other problems I’m not aware of?”
“I don’t think so. My father’s coming?”
“Wild horses could not hold that man back. I understand he’s on a flight that comes in tonight sometime. We were hoping you’d be awake when he arrived. We also heard from a friend of yours, a federal agent named Ann Rogers. When we were trying to ID you, we ran your info through the FBI database and got a call from her. She’s flying in to see if she can help in any way.”
“When might I be discharged?”
“Well, how many days and nights were you out there?”
“I’m not sure. It was four or five, or more.”
“How did you keep warm?”
“I made a stove.”
The doctor paused as though he thought it might be a joke. “The NTSB is anxious to speak with you, but I can put them off until tomorrow unless you feel up to answering questions.”
“Perhaps I’d better. We never knew what happened to the pilot.”
“I’d like to keep you for at least a day or two, do some more blood work, let you get your strength back, and watch for any unexpected complications. But, we can talk more about that tomorrow.”
“When can I see, Scott?”
“Dr. Shauani will work that out with you. He’ll be stopping in sometime this evening. I’ll let him know you’re anxious.”
The doctor made some more marks on his chart, tucked it under his arm, and smiled. “The front office will be in with some standard release forms. Nothing at all to worry about. You’re both in good hands. Is there anything you need at the moment?”
“I’m starved.”
“I’ve cleared you for a normal diet, but you’d better go easy to start. We’ll have something brought up right away.”
“Thank you, Doctor.”
“I’ll be back later to check on you.” He smiled once more and left.
Two NTSB representatives arrived soon after with fewer questions than she had expected. They had already found the wreckage, including the cockpit section with the pilot’s body. It had come to rest at a much higher elevation, north of where the fuselage had ended up. The emergency locator transmitter had been found smashed. Having seen the location of the fuselage, they remained somewhat incredulous at how a one hundred and twenty-pound girl had carried a full-grown man down the side of the mountain and grew even more astonished as the story unfolded. Cassiopia became fatigued trying to explain it. They ended the interview by apologizing for not having found her. Trying to avoid mountain peaks, the pilot had flown farther south than would have been expected. In addition, thick cloud cover had cost the search teams several days. After a few questions about the smoke and engine problems, they asked for a second visit at some future date, then wished her well. They left shaking their heads in amazement.
As blessed sleep began to overtake her, an attendant from the front office peered through the haze, asking for signatures. Cassiopia signed without reading and tried to explain she had no insurance card or ID. The attendant patted her on the shoulder, apologized for the intrusion, and told her it was okay. Besides, the institute had guaranteed payment in full for everything, so finance did not need anything further. Cassiopia did not understand but was too tired to care. She drifted off while the woman was still speaking.
The morning began with a covered plate and juice beside the bed. Cassiopia found cold, over easy eggs beneath it and attacked them like a voracious wolf. As she sucked in the heavenly flavor of apple juice through the flexible straw, a representative from the front office appeared asking for more documentation. Having only a vague recollection of the past evening, Cassiopia once again tried to explain to the finance representative that she had lost all her ID, and again the rep explained she should not worry; the institute had certified payment in advance for all services rendered. When Cassiopia asked, “What institute?” the rep looked confused and promised to return with that information. As the rep tried to leave, a haggard-looking Professor Cassell came charging in, looking as though he did not believe his daughter was actually there, but desperately needing confirmation that she was if he was to survive more than a few minutes. He dropped a beat-up brown suitcase, and equally abused briefcase outside the door and tromped in like a charging rhinoceros. His wrinkled, outdated gray suit coat caught on the door latch as he entered, and he had to wrestle the narrow, stripped brown tie out of the way to free it. His short, gray beard was askew, and he pushed back the thinning gray hair from his forehead as he charged in. He dove to the bedside and clutched Cassiopia so hard she had to reposition herself to breathe. He remained with his head buried in her pillow, sobbing to the point that the business rep became embarrassed and excused herself.
When enough composure had been regained, the Professor surfaced, looked at his daughter, and it began all over again. Slowly, he reassured himself that his broken heart had been mended by angels, and came up for air and stared, still clutching her tightly.
“Cassiopia, I thought I had lost you.”
“We’re both going to be okay, Father.”
“I fear it will take some time for that to sink in,” he replied, as he wiped at his eyes. “Are you injured?”
“No, just some soreness and a bruise or two. Scott has two broken legs and a concussion, though.”
“You said he’ll be okay?”
“I think so. They haven’t let me see him yet. I was supposed to talk to his doctor last night but I think I fell asleep. If anyone asks, Scott and I are engaged, okay? It’s the only way they’ll give me information.”
“So you are okay, then?”
“Yes, I’m fine. I’m just here for observation. I don’t think they’ll keep me long.”
“What do we need to get you?”
Cassiopia thought. “I don’t know if I have any clothes or anything. I don’t remember how I got here.”
“Well, I shall go and procure the finest hotel room nearby, and garner all things possible that you may have need of. And, I need to hear the whole story, Daughter. I need to know exactly what happened to you, as soon as you feel up to telling it.”
“It feels like a bad dream. It just doesn’t seem real.”
Professor Cassell stroked his daughter’s forehead. He smiled for the first time. “You are okay. That’s the main thing.”
“Father, you’ve left the TEL robot at home alone?”
“Yes. It sends its greetings. At least that’s what it said when I gave it instructions about my absence. I do not know why a machine would find it logical to send greetings. I can only assume your tinkering with its A.I. continues to evolve.”
“It sent me greetings? The Tel said to say hello?”
“Yes, and that is not all. I was caring for Mr. Carlial’s pet beagle when this all happened. He’s also hospitalized, for a quadruple bypass. I had to instruct the Tel to feed the dog twice a day through the fence.”
Cassiopia laughed out loud and then paused in surprise that she had. “You have a TEL 100D robot taking care of the neighbor’s dog?”
“Yes, and believe me it worries me, but I had no other choice. As I was leaving, I caught it downloading some material on canine care and feeding, ‘It’s the Dog or You’ or something like that. I fear the thing will become obsessed somehow with that dog, but that should be impossible for a computer, I think.”
Cassiopia smiled, then again became concerned. “Father, it’s not safe to leave the house unguarded. You’ve already had a break-in not that long ago.”
“It’s actually quite alright, my dear. When you first became lost, I received a call from a police officer, a Sergeant Daniel Parrish. He was concerned about Scott. Said he was a close friend. When they notified me you had been found, I called him, and he promised to check on the house daily. So thanks to Mr. Markman, we now have police protection watching over the homestead.”
“Daniel Parrish? I don’t know him.”
“Having spoken to him at length, I can assure you we are in good hands.”
Cassiopia started to reply when another figure appeared in the doorway. Ann Rogers leaned in, “Should I come back in a little bit?”
Cassiopia smiled. “No, please, come in. It’s good to see you, Ann.”
Rogers entered and paused at the foot of the bed. Her black business suit was wrinkled; her dark hair captured loosely behind her head. She looked tired but too concerned to care. She came around and stood beside Professor Cassell, resting her hands on the bed’s guardrail.
“Wow, Cassiopia! From the preliminary NTSB report, I expected worse!”
“Have you seen Scott?”
“Not yet. But, how are you?”
“I’m okay. Just a few bumps and bruises. Father, this is Ann Rogers, the agent who helped us in New York.”
Ann extended a hand. “Actually it’s the other way around Professor. It’s an honor to meet you finally. Have you heard the story of how she came down from that mountain?”
“No, and it frightens me to think about it.”
“It hasn’t been publicly released yet, but the story is spreading like wildfire. Some people are calling it the miracle on the mountain. Cassiopia, I’m afraid you may become a celebrity of sorts from this.”
“I was told they found the crash site. Do you know if they recovered any of our belongings? My laptop was in my briefcase.”
“I’ll keep checking on that for you. Believe it or not, they did find your stove and fuel. The NTSB is very thorough about checking out people’s stories. They retraced the path you took and found that stuff under a bush just outside of town. It’s amazing.”
Cassiopia stared into the distance. “My stove,” she said, and her heart felt heavy at the memory.
Rogers began to add something but was interrupted by someone entering. A doctor with oriental features stopped just inside and nodded to everyone. He looked at Cassiopia and came to the side of the bed next to them. He wore a blue scrubs and carried a clipboard in his right hand. He smiled and evaluated Cassiopia. His accent was barely noticeable.
“Ms. Cassell, I’m Doctor Shauani. I’m the neurologist overseeing Mr. Markman’s case. I’ve been told you are his fiancé?”
Ann Rogers’ eyebrows raised, but she said nothing.
“Yes, that’s right. How is he?”
“Normally we’d need more than just word of mouth to release medical information, but we haven’t been able to locate any family for Mr. Markman. Do you know if there’s anyone we should contact?”
“No, just me. This is my father, and this is Ann Rogers, a close friend of his.”
The doctor turned and nodded to them. He spoke sympathetically. “Would you both mind if I spoke with Ms. Cassell privately?”
Rogers nodded and stepped out. The Professor lingered, not wanting to leave. Finally, he yielded and joined Rogers outside the window. The doctor swung the door shut.
“I did not oversee the fractures, but they are doing exceptionally well. There should be no lasting effects from those. The concussion is an item of concern, however.”
“Is he awake?”
“No, and if he did regain consciousness we would likely need to induce coma. There is still too much swelling.”
“Has he been awake at all?”
“No, and as I’ve just said, that is most desirable at this time.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Ms. Cassell, has Mr. Markman had any other head injuries of any kind in the recent past?”
“Well, yes. He fell and hit his head on a boat.”
“Do you know what level of concussion was diagnosed at that time?”
“Yes, they said it was a grade two. Does that affect this injury somehow?”
The doctor drew a stool from nearby and sat down. “Yes, I’m afraid it does. There’s been quite a bit of study these days on repetitive head injuries. We’ve learned a lot. Did the injury you just described occur within the past year?”
“Yes.”
“There is an accumulative effect from repeated head trauma. We’ve done a CT scan, and some other tests. We do not see any sign of leptomeningeal incidence, those are like cysts caused by the injury, and that’s good. The hematoma is significant, but we do not see any continued hemorrhaging from it. But, clearly this is what is referred to as a complex concussion. The worrisome part is that we do not see the significant brain activity we would like to at this point.”
“But he will recover. It just may take time, right?”
“In these cases, we can never be sure how long recovery may take. There just are no indicators for us to gage what level of recovery there will be, or how long it will take.”
“Well, what happens now?”
“Surgery is not called for. It’s been too long since the accident. This will be a wait and see situation for the time being.”
“Can I see him?”
“Yes, as much as you want to, as soon as your doctor approves you to get up, and I’m sure that will be later today after his next visit. He’ll want you on your feet as soon as possible.”
“And you will continue to treat Scott, and keep me informed every day.”
“Yes.”
“I lost my cell phone in the crash. I’ll get new one right away. When I’m released, I’ll have a room nearby. I’ll be available anytime day or night.”
“Ms. Cassell,
I’d say you are quite an extraordinary person. I’ve been told some of your story. I think you should know that the cold played a significant part in reducing his injury. That and the fact that you protected him from the elements and kept him minimally hydrated are the reasons he is still with us. He would not have made it if you hadn’t been there. I have no doubt that if anyone can will Mr. Markman back to health, you can.”
“Thank-you Doctor. Please do everything possible.”
The doctor rose and nodded. “Be assured, I already am.” He turned and blocked the door open. Outside he paused to speak to Professor Cassell and Rogers, then disappeared around the corner.
The Professor and Rogers returned.
Rogers asked, “What did he say?”
Cassiopia repeated in detail everything she had been told. When she was done, the three of them paused in silence, unsure of what to feel.
Chapter 10