by Jack Dey
“Were there any disturbances last night?” Gwennie enquired.
“No, none, unusually quiet, Gwennie,” came the reply.
Gwennie glanced around and peered across to Charlie’s empty room. “Where is Charlie Myers?”
“She’s been taken down to Psyche Room One to be prepared for ECT.”
“That’s right, that was this morning,” Gwennie said to herself.
*~*~*~*
Two burly orderlies arrived early, to take the patient from MHU to Psyche Room One. Because of the industrial action taken by hospital orderlies to campaign for higher wages, it was shaping up to be a busy day, leaving only a handful of orderly staff actually on the wards and they were in great demand. They pushed an empty gurney into Charlie’s room and prepared to lift Charlie from her bed onto the gurney.
“Hey, Paul,” said one orderly to the other.
“What?” the other replied.
Pointing to Charlie’s catatonic stare, he teased, “This is what you look like after a night on the town.”
“Shuddup and lift her onto the gurney,” his friend replied, unimpressed.
Once the orderlies had Charlie on the gurney, they wheeled her out of MHU and down the corridor to the lifts. They stood silently as they waited for the service lift to arrive from another floor. The lift arrival light blinked on, a bell pinged and the doors opened. They wheeled the gurney in and pushed the button for the first floor and then waited in silence as the lift went through its routine, counting down the floor numbers until they reached the first floor. The arrival light for the first floor blinked on and was followed by a ping, like an overanxious bus driver warning all passengers to hurry up and get in or get out. If they were too slow in getting out, the doors would start to close, giving an added incentive to hurry up.
The orderlies pushed Charlie’s gurney to the right of the lifts and down the corridor, until Psyche Room One came into view. They turned the door handle and pushed the gurney inside, the door closing automatically behind them. After they had parked the gurney, the door opened again and the two orderlies walked out, leaving Charlie lying alone in the room. One orderly reported to the psyche desk, while the other signed off on the delivery.
Charlie lay in the room, unattended, for nearly an hour until the nurses arrived to hook her up to the EEG, EMG and the ECG. They opened her mouth and placed teeth guards between her jaws, then strapped her arms and legs down to the gurney. They taped the probes of the electrocardiograph onto her chest and arms, then fixed the probes of the electroencephalograph on her skull and the needle probes of the electromyograph into the muscles of her neck. They powered the machines up and they began taking readings.
The ECG began taking readings of her heart rate and beeped with each heartbeat, steady and strong. The EEG was measuring for fluctuations in the voltage of the brain neurons and the EMG measured abnormalities in the muscle cell electrical potential. The readout was taking a snapshot of Charlie’s brain. Doctor Fields wanted to measure her brain activity before and after the therapy. The electroconvulsive machine was unpacked from its box and the probes hooked up to the machine. The anaesthetist arrived and began the process of putting Charlie under anaesthetic, until finally, all was ready for the doctor to arrive.
At ten o’clock, the door swung open to Psyche Room One and Fields entered. He checked his patient and the readouts.
Hmm, he thought.
Fields ordered the vitals to be switched off until after the ECT. He was getting impatient to see if his genius would work. Fields grasped the two fist sized insulators attached to the probes in his hands, applied some conductive cream to the two flat steel plates at the bottom of the probes, turned up the current to 500ma and turned on the machine.
He looked at the anaesthetist. “Are you ready?” he asked.
The anaesthetist nodded.
The probes came in contact with Charlie’s skull. Her hands and feet jerked spastically against the straps holding her down and she thrashed. Her jaw clinched hard shut against the rubber guards in her mouth. Fields had just improvised an epileptic fit in Charlie’s brain, using the machine. He then removed the probes from her skull and monitored her for any signs of change... nothing. He repeated the process over and over with the same result, until the anaesthetist became agitated.
“She needs time to recover, while we monitor her progress, before giving any more shocks,” the anaesthetist was becoming unsettled.
The ECG, EEG and EMG were powered up again. Fields took a snapshot from the brain monitors as the ECG continually beeped a strong, steady heart beat. The electroencephalograph showed a different set of fluctuations in the brain neuron voltage.
Something had changed!
Taking the readouts, Fields turned on his heels, shot the anaesthetist a disgruntled expression and headed out the door, leaving his subordinates to clean up. Charlie was wheeled back into her room just after midday. The brain and heart monitors were still attached and she was still under anaesthetic, her eyes closed tightly.
*~*~*~*
CHAPTER 36 - PRESENT DAY
Rawling Michaels approached the glass doors leading into the foyer of the Health Care Operations Manager. He nervously pushed the doors open and walked up to the secretary sitting at a semicircular counter. If the secretary’s head was down working, she would have been completely hidden by the counter. A computer screen loomed up over the counter on Rawling’s left and documents were neatly piled up to his right. The smartly dressed young woman had an earpiece in her left ear and was typing at high speed, watching the computer screen as she typed. At his appearance, she switched off the little voice recorder, removed the earpiece from her ear and gave Rawling her full attention.
“Yes, may I help you?” she enquired politely.
“I have an appointment with Mr Lithgow, the Operations Manager,” Rawling replied.
“Mr Michaels?” she asked enquiringly.
“Yes,” he affirmed.
“Take a seat. Mr Lithgow won’t be a moment.”
Rawling took a seat on a green cushioned lounge chair. The lounge chair sat against the wall, to the left of the secretary’s desk and faced across the room to a large window. The view from five floors up took in a sweeping panorama of Trinity Inlet. The secretary went back to her typing, the high speed clickety click of the computer keys added to his nervousness.
Maybe I should just let this go. After all, it is just a hunch, he thought.
The sound of the secretary’s voice calling him brought his mind back into the room. “Mr Michaels, Mr Lithgow will see you now.”
*~*~*~*
Gwennie stroked Charlie’s hand. The heart monitor was beeping a steady beep, her chest rising and falling with each new breath. Charlie’s eyes were closed as she struggled with the anaesthetic. Gwennie wondered if the warning dream was about Charlie, but she looked peaceful enough at the moment and all the machines were tracking the vital signs of a patient who was steadily healing. It crossed her mind to telephone the prayer team and cancel the cover, so they could go about their usual daily business. But Gwennie knew they would ask her what the situation was about and she didn’t have anything to tell them.
I will let the prayer go on for a few more hours before calling the intercessors off duty, she thought.
*~*~*~*
Johnny had been up all night, kneeling by his bunk, interceding for Missy Boss’ life. He walked around this morning, silently praying as he worked. He was tired and Damon asked him if he was alright. He just nodded and kept holding Missy Boss before the throne of God, lapsing out of tiredness a few times, but the Holy Spirit revitalised him, keeping him going.
*~*~*~*
“Mr Michaels… are you aware of the cost to this hospital and to our professional image if you are incorrect in your... hunch?” Lithgow threatened.
“With all respect, sir, surely the cost to the hospital would be higher if I am right and we do nothing.”
Lithgow’s brow creas
ed. “I don’t like whistle blowers,” he said sarcastically. “Although in some circumstances, it is necessary,” Lithgow conceded. “I just wondered why you didn’t talk to the head of MHU and instead, came directly to me,” Lithgow enquired, hoping to sidestep the responsibility.
“These things are sensitive, Mr Lithgow, and I am sure you would be able to uncover any malpractice without needing to protect anybody,” Rawling replied.
Rawling Michaels walked out of Lithgow’s office and blew out a nervous breath. He had either saved someone’s life, or ended someone’s career... maybe his own.
The phone on the secretary’s desk buzzed. “Yes, Mr Lithgow.”
“Get me Doctor Clement, head of MHU.”
*~*~*~*
The phone rang at the nurses’ station of the Mental Health Unit. A nurse picked up the phone and answered. She was a little shocked when she realised who was on the other end.
“Yes, Doctor Clement, we will do that right away, sir. Yes, sir, I will get one of the orderlies to deliver it to you straight away. Good bye.”
She turned to another nurse, filling out paperwork next to her. “That was Clement,” she said.
The other nurse raised her eyebrows as if to say, ‘What did you do wrong?’
Doctor Clement was a no-nonsense, highly regarded professional. His wiry, six foot two frame had seen many medical emergencies in his fifty years as a clinical psychiatrist. He wore an extremely tough exterior, but had a compassionate, marshmallow interior. The children he treated could see right through the tough exterior and were drawn to the old gentleman, like moths to flame. He was proud of his well run unit and didn’t appreciate subordinates ruffling the feathers of order.
A nurse startled Gwennie as she pushed the door open to Charlie’s room. “How is she doing, Gwennie?” the nurse asked.
“Still the same,” Gwennie replied.
“I just have to take a blood sample from Charlie. Can I get in next to her?”
Gwennie shifted her chair from next to Charlie, allowing the nurse to take a blood sample. “Anything wrong?” Gwennie asked the nurse.
“Doctor Clement wanted a sample taken and sent to the lab to be analysed. I don’t know what for,” she spoke before Gwennie could ask.
The nurse smiled at Gwennie. “You can put your chair back now.”
Gwennie resumed her position next to Charlie and began reading to her again, until she heard the heart monitor skip a beat. Unexpectedly, Charlie’s body began to spasm on the bed and her arms and legs vibrated and then she started to thrash. Her limbs beat wildly and Gwennie jumped back. She had seen too many epileptic episodes to try and stop them. She reached for the door and yelled for help, while animated nurses and orderlies came from all directions and removed the equipment out of the range of her thrashing. Someone produced a syringe and with a great effort, emptied it into Charlie. Her thrashing stopped and she lay exhausted on the bed. The monitors were reconnected and she was strapped down.
Charlie’s electrocardiograph was beeping slower, while the nurses watched with concern. The ECG blipped slower and slower. One of the nurses left the room in a hurry, retrieving the defibrillator from its cabinet and returned shortly after, holding the device. She removed the paddles from the machine, switched it on and allowed it to charge, then applied a conductive cream to the paddles and placed them diagonally across Charlie’s bare chest. She called, "Clear," and threw the switch.
Charlie jolted and the ECG skipped. She repeated the process twice more, before the ECG flatlined and a constant, monotonous beep came from within the machine. The room was stunned as Charlie’s heart refused to cooperate and remained inoperative.
A doctor burst into the room, pushing people out of his way and examined Charlie for vital signs... but Charlie was gone.
He lifted his wrist, exposing a watch from under his lab coat. “Call it 3:30pm,” the doctor declared, making known the time of death to enter on her death certificate
*~*~*~*
Fields’ mobile phone rang, interrupting his thoughts of personal glory.
“What?! When?!”
Fields panicked, hanging up quickly and throwing the phone on the desk. He reached for the top of his closet and brought down his suitcase, bouncing it heavily on the bed and piled in his belongings. He had brought home the bottle of liquid, just to be sure.
At least they won’t find that, and by the time they’ve worked out what happened, I will be out of the country, he reasoned.
Frantically peering around the rented flat, he checked for anything that would incriminate him, then closed the door and raced towards his car.
*~*~*~*
Debbie was sobbing and shaking violently as she stood in front of her daughter’s body, covered by a sheet. Gwennie, still in shock, tried to comfort her.
“Oh Lord, why?” Gwennie implored silently.
The room became hot. There was a sudden, blinding flash and then it was gone.
Debbie and Gwennie looked at each other, still dazed by the dazzling light. From under the sheet, they heard a cough. Gwennie pulled it back from Charlie’s softly radiant face and called for a nurse.
“Where am I?” Charlie pleaded weakly and then her eyes fluttered shut again.
*~*~*~*
The room filled with doctors and nurses, chattering in a constant stream of unbelief. Not ten minutes ago, they had witnessed Charlie die. She had been examined and pronounced dead by a doctor and now she was sleeping peacefully, the ECG beeping rhythmically and strongly. There was a gentle softness around her face and everyone was staring at her in a state of shock. Debbie’s bewildered voice broke the silence and quietly asked the question that was on everybody’s mind.
“What just happened?!”
*~*~*~*
Shock filtered all the way through the hierarchy at the lab results. Clement sat with Lithgow in his office, discussing the data. Michaels had been right. The anaesthetist’s suspicions about Fields’ behaviour had been spot on and having the internal fortitude to confront the proper authorities, saved a lot of embarrassment for the hospital. Charlie’s blood contained some type of chemical that could not be easily identified, mixed with traces of anaesthetics.
“How could this have happened?” Lithgow demanded of the head of MHU.
Clement shielded his normal protocol. “Her catatonia would have eventually responded to the standard treatment,” Clement defended. “It is possible that whatever the liquid was, had been injected into Charlie and reacted with the anaesthetic, causing a poisonous cocktail that would slowly kill her.”
Clement shifted in his seat and then continued carefully, measuring his words and becoming more uneasy, “Whatever her attending doctor did was not standard procedure, or sanctioned by my department.”
Just then, Lithgow’s desk phone buzzed. He pushed the intercom button and responded, “Not now, Justine. I am in a meeting.”
“Sir, I really think you should take this call.”
*~*~*~*
Both Clement and Lithgow burst into Charlie’s room. Stunned nursing staff cleared out as the two men entered. The chatter among the nurses continued outside Charlie’s room. Animated professionals were staring and pointing at the patient, now very much alive.
*~*~*~*
Johnny felt the burden of intercession lift and he felt the battle had taken a positive turn. He went to lie down for an afternoon nap and woke up eighteen hours later.
*~*~*~*
CHAPTER 37 - THURSDAY ISLAND 1882
Sissy awoke early that morning. She dressed and purposefully walked into the drawing room and sat down on the chaise lounge with her list. Today was Friday and John was coming home tonight. Her excitement piqued at the thought, but she had a lot to do beforehand. The wedding was only eight days away and her family and friends would arrive at midday, aboard the steamer from Brisbane.
A whole section of the Colonial Inn had been booked for two weeks to accommodate them. Her mother and father would stay
in the guest quarters of the Jennings’ house, next to her room.
She had supported local business as much as possible, but her choice was severely limited on the remote island, so in addition, she had requested a specific list of wedding equipment to be brought up as cargo, from Brisbane.
Sissy was satisfied with her new bridesmaids. Warrammarra had agreed to do the official part of the ceremony, which would take place in the grassed courtyard at the back of the house. The groomsmen were the other two skippers on Jennings’ pearling vessels and they were still at sea. They hadn’t been able to have a fitting for the suits, but she was confident that everything would work out perfectly.
The food had been ordered and three extra staff hired to take care of the catering. The guest list had been finalised and invitations delivered. A musical quartet from Brisbane would take care of the entertainment. She pondered the guest list. The only blemish on her horizon was one name. Father Jennings had insisted that he be invited and she wondered after the events of the past week, whether everybody would regret his decision. She put the list on the lounge next to her, leaned back against the back rest and closed her eyes, deep in thought.
A pair of soft, warm hands came from behind her, cupped her face and kissed the back of her head. She jumped as Elaine spoke, “Good morning, sweetheart. You’re up early.”
“Just going through the list,” Sissy responded. “Do you think Father will reconsider Mr Davis’ invitation, after Tameka’s revelation?” she searched Elaine’s eyes.
Elaine eased herself into the lounge and gave Sissy’s question a long deliberation. “I don’t think we can uninvite him, Sissy. If we do, we will be acting worse than he did.”
“Of course, Mother, you are right. Are you going to tell Father about Tameka’s story?”
Elaine’s eyes narrowed and twinkled at the scandalous Mister Davis. “Just as soon as I can, Sissy.”