He looked back at us, glaring.
“You can expect a bill for this month!”
“I expect nothing less,” said Miles. “Rest assured, that bill will be subjected to the highest scrutiny to ensure that all charges are valid.”
Bob was red now. He and the Queen of Hearts would go nicely together.
We left then, but as we passed by the girl at the desk, I quickly slid her one of Miles’ cards.
“If you’re miserable here, call. We’ll find you something else.”
She stared at me with wide eyes, then quickly pocketed the card with a fearful look toward Bob’s office.
Mission accomplished, I took the hand Miles offered and smiled back at him. He was very pleased at our success, and kissed the side of my face as we turned to follow the others.
We rode the elevator to the ground floor, and passed imposing woman’s pedestal. Head held high, she looked off to the side like an offended cat. We weren’t worthy of her notice.
Soon we were outside the hospital again, watching Violet as she was transferred to the ambulance. Miles spoke with the paramedics and then they left for Memorial. The O’Neills prepared to follow.
“How can we ever thank you,” said Mrs. O’Neill, a little teary-eyed as she hugged Miles.
“There’s no need,” said Miles.
“You’re a smart young lady,” said Mr. O’Neill to Doreen. “You sure set Bob straight.”
“Smart as a whip,” said Mrs. O’Neill, as she gave her a hug. “I don’t know what we would have done without you.”
“Miles and Anika would’ve handled it,” said Doreen magnanimously. “I just got it done faster.”
“Yes you did,” smiled Mr. O’Neill.
“Thank you, dear,” said Mrs. O’Neill as she hugged me.
“You’re very welcome,” I said as I hugged her back.
“We’d best get going,” said Mr. O’Neill, as he opened the car door for Mrs. O’Neill. “Don’t want to keep Violet waiting.”
“We’re looking forward to sitting with her,” said Mrs. O’Neill, smiling and wiping tears at the same time.
“If it’s alright with you, we’ll follow you there,” said Miles. “We’d like to make certain everything goes smoothly from this point on. Or if you prefer, you can follow us. I know my way around the parking lots and building, and could save you from having to search.”
“That would be much appreciated,” smiled Mr. O’Neill. “We’ll follow you, then.”
The O’Neills both got into their car and waited to follow us.
Miles turned to Doreen as we walked to our SUV.
“Don’t ever question whether or not you have abilities,” he smiled. “You’re smart, and you’re observant. You’ll do great things with those.”
She smiled and looked proud, and Miles gave her a high five. I rolled my eyes and gave her one too. Then I hugged her, almost tripping us both, since we were walking. It made her laugh.
“I notice your zipper broke,” I said, shoulder bumping her lightly. “How’d you get past my ability, that’s what I want to know.”
“I didn’t lie. I told you to consider me zipped. I never said that I was,” she said innocently.
Miles squeezed my shoulders and kissed my cheek on the way to open the doors of the SUV for Doreen and I.
“The baton has been passed,” he whispered.
I groaned as Miles smiled… and then I laughed.
Chapter 18
We passed the medical complex, where many of the doctors with hospital privileges at Memorial had offices and saw patients. The tall buildings were all reflective glass, and filled several blocks. This is where Miles went for his first couple of weeks of physical therapy after returning to the estate.
Memorial Hospital was much larger than Pineview. Like the buildings in the medical complex, the exterior was reflective glass. Brightly lit signs pointed the way to the emergency room, lobby, ambulatory center, and every other department with an exterior door. We would find the entrance to the Neurosciences ICU by entering through the lobby.
Miles drove straight to the nearest visitor parking lot, and he and the O’Neills found spaces. We met next to the crosswalk, then followed it across the covered patient-pick up in front of the entrance to the hospital. The large automatic sliding doors opened, and we went inside.
The lobby was large, and cheerfully lit by both electric lights and the large windows that covered one wall. Groups of chairs and small couches were arranged to provide visitors a place to gather together as they waited, and tall cat palms in huge pots added an additional sense of privacy to the seating areas.
“Do we need to check in with someone?” asked Mr. O’Neill, as Miles led us straight past the information counter and through the lobby where several people sat and talked as they waited for… whatever it was they were there for.
“That isn’t necessary,” said Miles. “When we reach the Neurosciences ICU, we’ll let the nurses station know we’ve arrived. Once they have Violet settled they’ll call you back, and you can visit her.”
“That sounds wonderful,” said Mrs. O’Neill. She was so close to seeing her daughter, and the closer she got, the more intolerable each second that separated them became. I felt deep sympathy for her.
“You’ll see her soon,” I assured. She nodded and gave me a tight smile, the strain still there. She was willing the time to pass.
We approached two large doors beneath the “Neurosciences ICU” sign. Beside the door was a buzzer, which Miles pressed.
“Can I help you?” a voice said through the speaker.
“Yes, this is Miles Bannerman. I’m here with Mr. and Mrs. O’Neill, their daughter Violet has just been transferred from Pineview. They would like very much to see her as soon as that’s possible.”
“Yes sir, she arrived just a few minutes ago. We’re getting her settled. We’ll let you know when you can come back.”
“Thank you,” Miles said, then motioned toward the open door to the left of the ICU doors.
We went inside and had a seat. For a hospital waiting room, it was fairly comfortable. It was a small room, the walls a warm beige. The padded chairs were covered in a dark brown fabric printed with small haphazardly arranged squares of orange, red, tan, and green. A large geometric print consisting of the same colors adorned one wall. The lighting was soft. End tables were arranged between every three chairs. Each held a table lamp which added a touch of bright light at intervals throughout the room.
We waited, and for the O’Neills it had to be torture. They were both tense, probably feeling as if they could will the time to pass more swiftly if only they focused hard enough. For the most part we did our waiting in silence, understanding that idle conversation would irritate more than it would help to pass the time.
We heard the ICU doors open and we all stood and faced the doorway, waiting. A nurse in scrubs smiled pleasantly as she reached the threshold.
“Mr. and Mrs. O’Neill?” she asked.
“Yes,” answered Mr. O’Neill, and they both hurried forward.
“Right this way,” she said.
“Aren’t we going?” asked Doreen, a puzzled frown on her face as Miles and I once again had a seat.
“Only two visitors at a time are allowed,” said Miles. “We can do more good for Violet here than we can in there, anyway.”
“Why?” asked Doreen, still frowning at what to her, did not make sense.
“I can use my phone in here,” Miles said, taking it out and dialing. “Hello, this is Miles Bannerman. I’m doing very well, thank you.”
Miles laughed.
“Still no sign of it, no. I’m inclined to believe you’re all making it up, actually.”
Miles laughed again.
“That’s right. Yes, exactly. Yes, you can help me with something. I need you to get a message to Dr. Reeves. Violet O’Neill has arrived. We are, yes. I have my wife and sister-in-law with me. I will, I’ll do that. Thanks.”
&nbs
p; “Sharon said to tell you hello,” Miles said, pocketing his phone and putting his arm around me again.
“I would have said to tell her hi back, but you already hung up,” I said, holding his other hand.
“I am sooo bored,” said Doreen, her head dropping back against the wall with a thud. She groaned, and rubbed the back of her skull.
“I’d think with curls like that you’d have at least some cushioning,” Miles smiled.
“I wouldn’t know,” she said, slumping in her seat. “I’d have to straighten my hair and then knock my head into the wall again, to compare.”
“If you insist on trying, at least you won’t have far to go if your experiment results in head trauma,” Miles said.
It took Doreen a second, but then she laughed.
We heard footsteps and looked toward the door. A short, stout man with glasses, a white coat, and a badge with the name “Dr. Reeves” emblazoned on it, entered the room.
Miles stood and the two shook hands.
“Dr. Reeves, it’s good to see you,” Miles smiled.
“It’s very good to see you, Miles,” Dr. Reeves said.
“Let me introduce you to my wife, Anika,” Miles said, and I stood. “Before you go sending me off for another MRI, let me say that I do know you’ve met before. You met Anika when she was my girlfriend, and later my fiancé. Technically, you’ve never met my wife.”
Dr. Reeves laughed, and we shook hands and greeted each other again.
“This is Doreen, Anika’s sister,” Miles said, and Doreen smiled and waved, then started talking. I wasn’t even surprised this time.
“How is Violet?” she asked.
“Why don’t we go and see,” said Dr. Reeves.
There’s a benefit to looking older than she really is, after all. She gets to come with us! When Dr. Reeves turned to walk back into the hall, she gave me a grin and a thumbs up.
“Have you had an opportunity to examine Violet’s records?” asked Miles, as we followed Dr. Reeves to the double doors of the ICU and he swiped a keycard. The doors slowly swung open.
“I shall do so right now,” he said.
He led us down a broad corridor which separated the patient cubicles on each side. The walls facing the corridor were glass, and sliding glass doors allowed entrance to each separate room. Exam room curtains gave the option of privacy, but most were left at least partially open. Some of the rooms held patients who were awake and interacting with nurses or visitors. In others, the patients were perfectly still.
We neared the nurses station where another doctor waited with a folder. He handed it to Dr. Reeves, and he opened it. The two doctors glanced through its contents, quietly discussing the information contained there as they did so. We waited a respectful distance but still heard some of what they said. They might as well have been speaking a foreign language. Their words didn’t tell me much.
Their expressions did, though. As Dr. Reeves flipped a page, he and the other doctor looked incredulous. They stared for a moment, then flipped through several other pages, and back again.
“This isn’t possible,” said the other doctor, looking to Dr. Reeves to confirm his assessment.
“No… no, it isn’t.”
They studied each page more slowly this time, absentmindedly shaking their heads at what they saw.
Dr. Reeves snapped the folder shut, a serious look in his eyes.
Miles and I glanced at each other. He didn’t understand that any more than I did.
Mentally putting the contents of the folder aside, Dr. Reeves turned back to us and managed a smile.
“This is Dr. Willis, one of our residents.”
Miles, Doreen and I all said hello and nice to meet you.
“This is Miles Bannerman. Our miracle patient, and the reason I transferred here.”
As they shook hands, Dr. Willis looked at Miles searchingly as if by looking hard enough he hoped to discover how Miles pulled through the injury Second-Miles incurred. The answer of course, was that he hadn’t. Dr. Reeves was right though, Miles was standing there beside us because of a miracle.
Dr. Reeves and Dr. Willis led the way, and we followed them further down the corridor. They paused at one of the sliding doors. The curtains were partially open, revealing the O’Neills. They stood, one on each side of Violet, holding her hands and talking to her. Mrs. O’Neill softly smoothed back Violet’s short hair over and over. I got a very big lump in my throat thinking of Grandma Polly sitting beside Second-Miles day after day, just like this, praying he would defy the odds and wake from the coma he was in.
Miles put his arm around me. He was thinking the same thing. I pressed my cheek against his shoulder, and put my arm around him, too.
“She’s going to be okay… isn’t she?” Doreen whispered, her face pale as she took in the effect seeing Violet had on us. I put my other arm around her.
“It’s someone else we’re thinking of,” I said. She was a smart girl. She understood then. She looked sad too, but relieved at the same time.
Mr. and Mrs. O’Neill looked up, but stayed by Violet’s side.
“Hello, I’m Dr. Reeves, and this is Dr. Willis,” he said, shaking hands with the two of them. “You must be Mr. and Mrs. O’Neill.”
“Yes, that’s right,” said Mr. O’Neill.
Their eyes were bright with a mix of hope and desperation, silently pleading with Dr. Reeves to tell them what they wanted to hear, as if his words had the power to make it so.
“And how are you today, Violet?” Dr. Reeves said more loudly, watching for a response, as Mr. O’Neill stepped aside to give him room. Dr. Willis went around to the other side of the bed, and Mrs. O’Neill made way also. The room wasn’t large, so Miles, Doreen and I remained in the doorway.
“Violet, I’m Dr. Reeves. I’m going to do a neurological exam now. It’ll give us an idea of how you’re doing.”
He placed his hand lightly on Violet’s shoulder, then felt behind her ears. Violet’s eyes opened briefly, and the rest of us gasped. Dr. Reeves continued as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, and Dr. Willis added a note to Violet’s file. He took a small flashlight out of the pocket of his lab coat and checked Violet’s pupils. Holding her eyes open, he then turned her head from side to side. Dr. Willis continued to take notes, recording her response to the various stimuli.
They examined her arms and legs, and several times she reacted to what they were doing. Each time, Doreen would look at me excitedly, and the O’Neills would look at each other.
Dr. Reeves finished the exam and covered Violet with a blanket once more. He turned to the O’Neills, and Dr. Willis continued entering information into her chart.
“I’ve ordered that a number of tests be run. We have the records which were sent over from Pineview, but in order to make an accurate assessment and prognosis we will need current results, the findings of which we can rely on.”
“What will you be testing?” asked Mr. O’Neill.
“We’ll start with an MRI and EEG. We’ll be drawing labs as well.”
“Are you—concerned about Violet’s heart?” asked Mrs. O’Neill hesitantly, worry filling her eyes.
It took us all a second to understand why she asked.
“Not at all,” Dr. Reeves assured Violet’s parents. “An EEG, or electroencephalograph, measures brain waves. There are five types of brainwave frequencies. Gamma, Beta, Alpha, Theta, and Delta.”
He thought for a moment, struggling to find words that we would understand.
“Simplified greatly, each of the five waves represents a different level of consciousness. Delta represents the deepest level of unconsciousness. When you sleep for example, the delta wave is dominant. In between sleep and wakefulness, theta is dominant. Alpha and beta are most present while awake, as is Gamma, which is essential for cognitive functioning and may be responsible for conscious perception.”
“Can you tell us anything now?” asked Mr. O’Neill, desperate for hope. “Do you think
you can help her?”
Dr. Reeves carefully considered his words.
“I am cautiously optimistic due to Violet’s response to stimuli, which reflects the absence of lesions and signs of lasting injury to the brain. It could be much worse, let me say that. We’ll know more when we have the results of the additional testing, which we’ll begin doing now.”
We moved back into the corridor to allow a lab technician access to the room. She wheeled in a cart containing vials and other paraphernalia required for drawing blood, and another nurse waited behind her.
“Let’s move into the hall for a moment and give them some space,” said Dr. Reeves, and he, Dr. Willis, and Violet’s parents moved into the corridor also.
I heard one of the women talking to Violet, introducing herself and explaining what she was about to do. They treated her as if she was awake and could understand. Maybe she could. Or maybe the conscious part of her mind was currently in a drugged state of sleep in our sitting room.
Dr. Reeves spoke, so I focused my attention in his direction.
“As I said, I’m cautiously optimistic at this point.”
“Is there anything we can do?” asked Mrs. O’Neill.
“Talk to her. She may very well be able to hear you even if she can’t respond at present. So talk to her. Let her know you’re there. If you’re praying people, then do that too. It can’t hurt, and might do some good.”
The O’Neills nodded, and looked relieved. The doctor was cautiously optimistic, and they had something concrete they could do for her. A little bit of control had been given back to them.
“We’ll be going now unless you can think of anything else we can do for you,” Miles said to Mr. and Mrs. O’Neill.
“I can’t think of a thing,” said Mr. O’Neill. “You’ve done just about everything a body could do.”
“Please call me if that changes,” said Miles. “Perhaps you won’t mind if my wife and I drop by to see Violet again, and get an update on her condition.”
“Yes, of course,” said Mrs. O’Neill.
The Lodge at Whispering Pines Page 26