Saving Sam

by Lynnette Beers

  “What about Johnny?” Sam asked and held her breath for a few seconds. “What sorts of things did he get arrested for?”

  “Everything from drunk in public, to a DUI, to armed robbery and...one conviction for attempted rape in 1988. He too got off on a technicality. It was a teenage girl he assaulted. Sounds like the girl’s parents didn’t want to come forward to provide enough evidence to convict him, didn’t want their daughter to be traumatized any more than she already had been when she fought off her attacker.”

  As Sam exhaled, her breath fogged the window. She listened as Annie told her about Johnny’s arrest record but only heard bits of the details. All these years, she’d hoped he’d been put away in some prison far away from Covington County, yet he was back—but as of right now, nowhere to be found.

  “Fred seems to be the only Patterson brother with only minor offenses,” Annie continued. “He’d only been imprisoned for a couple years. In time, I’m sure he would’ve done way more time just like his brothers. Chuck seems to have been the leader of the group, the worst of them, I guess you could say. No one would believe a teenage kid could’ve bludgeoned a grown man to death, but...sometimes there really is a time to kill.”

  Sam leaned her back against the window and folded her arms. A wave of nausea overwhelmed her as she tried to push aside all that had been revealed to her. She set her head against the glass and looked past Annie at the steady stream of doctors and nurses filtering onto the ward where her brother continued to fight to stay alive. But at this point, maybe he wasn’t doing any of the fighting. The doctors and nurses pumped him with plenty of drugs to keep his vitals stable, and the therapists did the best they could to keep his muscles and joints moving, even though he still didn’t show any signs of being aware of his surroundings.

  “You okay?” Annie asked. “I know this all isn’t what you wanted to hear this morning, but I needed to tell you. Frankly, it’s all making sense to me now as to why Johnny came after Robert.”

  Sam bit her lower lip before responding then pushed herself away from the windows and took a couple steps away from Annie. “You mean am I okay with hearing all these details about what happened twenty-four years ago? Do I really have a choice? I mean, Johnny trying to kill Robert has forced everything to come back to me. As the years went by and as I got older, I figured that awful day was long since buried, but obviously it’s not. But I guess hearing it from you makes it less scary. You always were good at figuring things out, always able to read between the lines, so to speak.”

  “I only wish I could’ve been involved in arresting Johnny years ago. Better yet, I wish those parents would’ve come forward with details about him assaulting their daughter. Then he wouldn’t have harmed anyone else.”

  Sam glimpsed at the clock on the wall and noticed they’d been standing here for nearly an hour. “At least that girl fought him off. She was brave to fight off someone so...evil like Johnny. Hey, so if there’s nothing else you need to tell me, then we should get in to see Robert. I know you need to get back to the station soon.”

  Sam stepped closer to Annie and relaxed her body into hers. She felt the warmth envelope her and took a deep sigh then interlaced her fingers into Annie’s—more out of habit than anything else. Sam continued to hold Annie’s hand and thought about all that’d been revealed to her. The haunting images from twenty-four years ago flashed in her mind, but she knew she must put that all aside and go see Robert. The first couple hours of visiting hours had already passed, but at least she could stay until later tonight. She vowed to not leave Robert’s side all day today.

  “I’m actually off today,” Annie said and patted Sam’s arm, “but I’ll stop by the station and get updated on the search for Patterson. I’ll contact other jurisdictions to expand our search area. I’ll stop and say a quick hello to your mom and Robert. Haven’t seen him for a few weeks now. You ready to go see him?”

  Sam squeezed Annie’s hand hard then raised both their hands in the air as if she were leading her into some sort of sporting event. “As ready as ever. Let’s do this,” she said and released Annie’s hand, sounding like a coach with a fellow trail riding buddy. She clapped her hands together a couple times and marched toward the medical ward.

  When she stepped away from the windows, she felt her phone buzz in her pocket a couple times. She looked at the screen to notice another text from Travis and two more from Kim. She’d sent her a photo this time—a selfie with Adrianna standing cheek-to-cheek next to her as the two of them held heaping servings of frozen yogurt.

  Carbo loading! We stopped in West Hollywood to wander around. Wish you were here with us ;) Miss you! <3

  Did Kim really just text a heart? Sam furrowed her brow and studied the short text before putting the phone back in her pocket.

  “Another text from the young girlfriend?” Annie asked.

  “She’s not that young. Not as young as I was when we met,” Sam said and smirked. “No, it’s just a text from Travis. Guess he’s bored at the beach today.”

  Why provide Annie with all the details of where Kim was right now and with whom? Sam felt her phone vibrate in her pocket one more time but ignored it. She squinted at the bright fluorescent lighting in the hallway as she and Annie passed the nurses’ station. Sam’s legs felt heavy. When she glanced at each bed in the rooms they passed, she noticed that the patients on this floor had obvious neurological deficits. Most of them were elderly—stroke patients, she figured. Some seemed to be carrying on conversations with loved ones; others stared at the television or glanced out the door to the hallway. Robert was likely one of the youngest patients on this ward but probably in the worst condition. As she tried to stop her heart from beating so fast, Sam linked her arm in Annie’s while the two of them rounded the corner to Robert’s room. For a fleeting few seconds, Sam felt like everything would be okay.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Mississippi: Autumn, 2014

  THE VENTILATOR BREATHED life into Robert while the neurologist did his exam. Sam slouched in a rigid plastic chair at the side of the bed and watched the doctor try to get some sort of reaction out of Robert. When the doctor shined a pen light in Robert’s eyes, Sam looked past the bed and noticed how different this room looked compared to the ICU. Beyond the empty bed next to Robert’s was a stainless steel sink with what looked to be a mirrored medicine cabinet above it. Past that was a small bathroom with a toilet and a shower stall. For patients who were ambulatory and much further along in their recovery, the room would be comfortable. But Robert would never have need of a shower or even a toilet. Still connected to a Foley catheter, he relied on nurses to empty the bag of urine that hung to the side of his bed. Once or twice a day a nurse would wash his body and sometimes comb his hair.

  Tired from another night of restless sleep, Sam set her head against the wall and glanced at Robert who lay there unresponsive and unaware of her presence. Her stomach rumbled as she anticipated her mom returning from the cafeteria with a snack for her. Sam had been here for the past four hours while the therapists and nurses attempted to get some sort of response out of Robert. His sternum glowed a deep shade of purple from the numerous times they pressed their knuckles hard onto his bony chest to try and rouse him.

  “Squeeze my hand,” the neurologist said then set a couple fingers on Robert’s opened palm. “It’s Doctor Savage, chief resident of neurology here. You’ve been in hospital for a few weeks now. Your sister Samantha is here.” Once again, the doctor shined the penlight into Robert’s eyes.

  “Actually, he calls me Sam,” Sam said quietly and leaned forward, but Doctor Savage didn’t respond. She detected a hint of an English or Irish accent—far different than the typical southern drawl here in Mississippi.

  After no reaction from Robert, Doctor Savage moved to the foot of the bed and lifted the covers to reveal Robert’s thin legs. He set a hand on each bony knee and palpated the muscles in the quads and shins. Then he peeled off the compression socks and ran his thu
mbnail on the bottom of Robert’s foot. Sam cringed when she imagined the pain she’d feel if a doctor did that on the sole of her foot, but Robert didn’t even flinch or wiggle his toes.

  “Has he shown any reaction when you hold his hand or talk to him?” Doctor Savage asked without looking at Sam.

  “No, nothing lately. Once my mom returns, you can ask her what she’s noticed. She claims he squeezes her hand, but I haven’t felt him do that for weeks. Is this normal for a brain injury? I mean, to have some response shortly after the injury and then...nothing weeks later?”

  “With his sort of injuries, additional neurochemical changes can occur later, such as intracellular calcium overload. If that occurs, it can further damage the axons in the brain. This of course leads to neurodeficits and neurodegeneration. With typical TBI, it can sometimes affect structural neuro-networks in the brain, including delayed axonal disconnection. These sorts of neuro changes can occur progressively, even weeks or months following the brain injury.”

  Sam stared at Doctor Savage and tried to grasp what he said. All she needed to hear was a yes or no to her question. “What sort of...prognosis do you give for Robert? Do you have any prediction for what’s next as far as care?” Sam bit her lower lip and glimpsed over the doctor’s shoulder to watch the medical personnel flitting about in the hallway.

  “The majority of recovery after traumatic brain injury takes place in the initial two years following the injury, but your brother’s case is quite different. Normally, if the patient has no other significant injuries or deficits, they can show improvement up to two years later, but with Robert, we’re dealing with brain hypoxia and TBI, along with spinal cord injury. His neuro regression could be due to a number of factors, including DAI.”

  “DAI?” Sam grimaced and awaited Doctor Savage’s response.

  “Sorry, diffuse axonal injury. It’s a feature of TBI. With DAI, axons in the white matter are vulnerable to injury due to the impact that occurs during blunt force trauma. In severe cases of neurological injuries from TBI, patients go from coma to PVS, or persistent vegetative state. You might need to make some decisions soon about long-term care, if that’s the route you take,” Doctor Savage said then covered Robert’s legs with the sheet.

  “Persistent vegetative state,” Sam said, her voice void of emotion. “What did you mean just now when you mentioned whether long-term care is the route we take with Robert? What are our other options?”

  “Well, you must realize that this might be all there is for Robert. A long-term care facility is probably the best scenario.”

  “You mean until he shows improvement?”

  “No, a long-term care facility for the rest of his life. He’ll have the best carers looking after him in a place like that.” Doctor Savage moved to the small table in the corner of the room to jot a few notes in the thick binder.

  “So, he’ll basically be living in a vegetative state and be sustained by these contraptions.” Sam wrung her hands and glanced from Robert to the machines breathing for him. The ventilator never stopped humming as the tubes pumped air into his lungs.

  “I’m not sure if you and your mum have talked about other options.”

  “I didn’t even think we had other options.”

  “I see that your brother has no advanced directive. If he had that, then we might know what his wishes would have been regarding sustaining his life with these sorts of measures.”

  “He’s only thirty-eight. He doesn’t even have a savings account. He never thought much beyond getting a paycheck each week.”

  “With some patients, palliative care is a clear option, but I’m not so sure we’re there yet with Robert.”

  “What do you mean yet?”

  “With a patient in his condition, there are all sorts of potential complications. Pneumonia, infection, continual neurodegeneration. There’s always a risk of blood clots, and if that—”

  “Yeah, I know, pulmonary embolisms. PE, as y’all say. He wouldn’t survive that. Might be a blessing if he succumbed to a PE, actually. It’d be a quick death. Nothing like this lingering in a state of limbo as he’s experienced the past few weeks.”

  “I recognize your frustration in regards to your brother’s situation. This surely can’t be easy on your family. Your brother can survive this way for a very long time. Years, really. But you need to realize that he’ll need twenty-four-hour care. He’ll never walk again, and there’s a likely possibility that he won’t even be able to sit up in a wheelchair.”

  “He’ll be bedridden for the rest of his life? What kind of life is that?”

  “He’ll need a full team of carers. However, you must be aware that, should his condition dramatically decline, then palliative care would be something to consider.” Doctor Savage flipped through Robert’s chart and rubbed the scruff of his chin as he studied each page.

  “My mom would never go for that,” Sam said and furrowed her brow. “She’s pretty certain he’ll eventually show enough improvement and be able to come home.”

  “As hard as this is to hear, he’ll never be able to go home.”

  “My mom has this idea that he’ll get good care at home. She’s a nurse, you know.”

  “Surely you and your mum realize that Robert needs far more than nursing care. Also, caring for someone in Robert’s condition is quite difficult on family members. At this point, Robert continues to be stable. It’s quite remarkable, actually, considering his injuries. We’ll continue to do all we can to make him as comfortable as possible while he’s in hospital here. I foresee he may be able to be transferred to a specialized care facility in the next week or so.” Doctor Savage jotted a few notes on a blank sheet of paper and continued to flip through Robert’s chart.

  As she stared at Robert’s unresponsive body, Sam jiggled her leg then occupied herself by rereading the texts Travis sent earlier:

  Look who came by to say hi to you this morning—Olivia Draper! The kid is healing pretty well. She even braved the surf on her boogie board.

  Above the text was a photo of Olivia sitting next to the lifeguard tower with her foot hoisted in the air. In the picture, she pointed to where the stingray injured her. Sam enlarged the photo to examine Olivia’s foot. Only a reddish wound could be seen, the skin already starting to heal. Sam read the last text from Travis:

  The mom told me to forward her cell number to you. Probably wants to thank you again for saving her kid.

  Doctor Savage finally slapped the binder shut and then bent over to scribble some notes on a small sheet of paper. He furrowed his brow as he filled the entire page with notes.

  Not able to see what the doctor wrote, Sam leaned back in the chair and stared at the busy hallway. In the room across the hall, a nurse spoke to a patient’s family. Sam had noticed that frail patient this morning—an old woman in grave condition. A grown woman stood at the foot of the bed; she let out a loud sob and steadied herself on the nurse’s arm. Sam heard the woman repeat, “Mama...Mama!” several times as she continued to cry. There was something so primal about the woman’s sobs, which caused Sam’s heart to ache.

  Sam studied the way the nurse not only cared for the ailing patient but also comforted the grown daughter. Next to her was a small boy—probably the patient’s grandson. The kid sat at the foot of the bed sobbing. Sam noticed that the patient was no longer hooked up to any machines. From across the hallway, Sam had a clear view of the old woman who lay motionless in the bed. The nurse approached the grandson and glanced up to see Sam observing the grieving family. The nurse then shut the door, but Sam could still hear the boy’s sobs. She continued to gaze at the empty hallway but tried to tune out the kid’s crying.

  Mesmerized by the fluorescent lighting on the stark white tile floors, Sam then noticed someone pacing in the hallway. She caught a glimpse of the man’s face and figured he was waiting to enter the patient’s room across the hall, but the door remained shut. Sam glanced at her phone again and wrote a short text to Travis.

&n
bsp; She’s a brave little kid. I’m not sure I’d venture back into the ocean so soon after getting stung by a stingray when I was her age.

  Outside the room, the man continued to pace back and forth. Each time he passed the doorway, he peeked into Robert’s room. Sam took another look at his face the next time he passed by. Weathered and grey, the guy appeared to be in his late fifties. Dressed in a blue, faded flannel checkered shirt, he didn’t look like hospital personnel, and he was way too old to be one of Robert’s friends. Maybe it was his boss from the boat rental place? But Sam recalled Robert saying that the manager was only a couple years older than he was. Could it be Mr. Rizzo? No, he was well into his seventies now and totally grey and rotund. The man who paced past the room was thin, almost wiry.

  When the man meandered past once more, Sam got a clear look at his face. This time, she noticed the stern look in his eyes—a preoccupied, distant look. There was something frighteningly familiar about that face. He stood a few feet from the doorway and glanced beyond Sam to what she thought was a clear shot of Robert’s bed. Again, that same serious look washed over the man’s face. His eyes seemed hauntingly familiar.

  Sam’s heartbeat sped up as she was suddenly filled with fear. She recalled Annie saying that Johnny was now in his fifties. Within seconds, Sam’s fear magnified. Not only had Johnny stalked Robert at his work, but he was now at the hospital?