Chapter Two
"Indecorous. Completely insensitive, not to mention inhospitable. That is the woman you told me about? Honestly, Preston, that was just plain rude-"
"Mom."
"Completely abrupt, no manners at all…"
"She was paged. She had to go. And you were making her uncomfortable."
"Could have been a little more warm, you know, barely looked at me, like she'd never been in a social situation before-"
"She was nervous…and worried about being late for her resident." Burke took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. "Being an intern is not easy. Remember my days as one?"
"Remember? I wouldn't know, Preston, you never called…" Pamela Burke shook her head. She paused slightly, and when she spoke again her tone was softer. "We'll discuss her later. How are you feeling, baby?"
Burke laid on the hospital bed, staring up at the ceiling. Pamela stood looking down at him with concern, using her hand to gently caress his forehead. He had to hold back a flinch, squeezing his eyes tightly shut.
"I'm fine. Dr. Shepherd should be in soon, he'll tell you what you're not believing from me-my blood pressure is stable, my temperature has regulated…"
"You're still having tremors."
Burke's tone cooled. "He'll tell you about that, too."
Pamela looked down at her oldest child worriedly, watching his gaze zero in on the vast blankness of the ceiling. Her glance drifted down to look at his hand, which, though clenched in a fist clutching his sheet, was still visibly shaking.
"I asked around about this Dr. Shepherd, while you were sleeping. He's one of the best, I bet he'll be able to fix you right up, baby-"
"Yes." Burke interrupted, his voice tight. "He's very talented, has a good success rate."
"Quite the compliment, coming from you."
Pamela and Burke both turned their heads, seeing the wavy-haired neurosurgeon standing at the doorway. As Derek stepped into the room, he flashed Preston's mother the most charming of his smiles. This afternoon, however, he seemed to be lacking the sparkle in his eyes that usually drew so many to him.
"Good afternoon. I take it you are Mrs. Burke?"
"Yes," Pamela responded, the slight Southern accent snapping with a twang. "I caught the first flight I could get, arrived early this morning."
"Pleasure to meet you. I'm sure your son has told you about his stable condition, but he may have lacked to mention the motor problems he has been experiencing in his right hand, especially to his third, fourth, and fifth fingers."
"I noticed the tremors," Pamela said softly.
Derek nodded his head seriously. "I've been doing some research for the last few hours on some of the lesser-known treatments, and I came across a surgery. It has its risks…but if I were to be successful--" He paused, turning his head to look at Burke. "It has the potential to repair all the damage done to the nerve cells that are causing the partial-body convulsions."
"You want to do another surgery?" Burke shuffled his body a bit on the bed, trying to sit up without succeeding. "You said we should wait and see if it goes away."
Derek looked with some trepidation towards Pamela and then back to his patient.
"That was the first thought. Often this does go away after a few days, once the swelled nerves along the spinal cord collapse back into their natural form. However, after studying your films as result of the surgery, I think this operation could be your best chance at getting full use of your hand back. Most of the damage was repaired during the original procedure, but this is a much more extensive operation."
"The first operation was extensive," Burke said quietly, clenching the muscles on his face to keep himself calm.
"Yes," Derek said softly, nodding. "But this surgery provides even more risks. I would be following a complex order of steps around not only where the bullet had enlodged itself, but over a much larger view of the spinal cord, since the shock of the impact could have damaged a greater amount of cells than we first thought-which is what your films suggest."
Burke looked as if he was struggling, he took a quiet breath and looked towards his mother. Pamela looked down at him, and catching his glance shook her head. "No, Preston. Anything he has to say he can say in front of me."
Derek looked back and forth towards the two of them, before settling his gaze on Burke. "Mrs. Burke, you must be exhausted. Why don't you head down to the cafeteria, you can grab yourself an early dinner, get a cup of coffee. Maybe you can call her your husband, tell him Dr. Burke is stabilized, get some of the worry off his chest-"
His voice drifted off at the look on Burke and Pamela's face, he cleared his throat quickly. "Visiting hours end at 8, you could check back to your hotel and catch a nap before coming to say good night--" Derek's voice once again trailed away at the expression on the reputable-looking woman's face. Burke seemed to catch it, for he opened his mouth to speak.
"It's alright, Mom. Cristina will be back in soon, so I won't be lonely. You must be tired from the jet lag, and I'm sure you're anxious to call Patricia and see how the restaurant's holding up."
Pamela looked at him fiercely for a moment, then let out a small huff. "As brusque as that girlfriend of yours, aren't you?" She asked tersely. "Fine. I will be back in two hours, after in which I will be expecting a full update. I anticipate that you will call my hotel if you have any problems, and am assuming that-"
"Mother." Burke interrupted gently. "I am fine. Go back to your hotel. Get some sleep. I will call you in a few hours, to tell you once again that I am fine. My condition is stable, and no decisions will be made about any surgeries before you get back. It will be okay, stop worrying."
Pamela looked down at him, her face crumpling. Her hand reached forward to grasp his left hand, she nodded, blinking quickly.
"I'll call when I get back to the hotel. Take care of yourself."
Derek stood motionless, as Pamela straightened her posture, retrieving her purse and exiting the room. Burke averted his eyes from his mother's form, as Derek took a small step forwards.
"Dr. Burke…Preston. This surgery-"
"I know." Burke interrupted. "Without it…" Burke took a quick, raspy breath. "I may never gain full control of my hand again, even after the tremors cease. And with it…one misstep, and-"
"Yes," Derek said breathily. "You could become paralyzed, comatose…you could remain stable, but the tremors could increase, in both size and occurrences-"
"Either way…I could never op—might never operate aga-" Burke's voice broke off, he blinked several times.
There was a slight pause, Derek struggling to keep his face passive.
"Well…the outcomes aren't all that much worse than the first surgery, are they?" Burke tried to laugh hoarsely. "No matter what, I-"
Derek watched as Burke closed his eyes, nodding slowly. "Fine. How long do I have to decide?"
Derek tipped his head slightly, stepping forward and rearranging the large chart in his arms. "We can put it off…give you some time. You can discuss it with Dr. Yang, see what she thinks. But if we wait too long…the nerves could begin to try to heal for themselves, and close off so the surgery would become more complicated. There's always the chance that the swelled nerves are just a reaction from the trauma on your body, but…there's no way to tell. I can give you a few days…you can think it over, and we can see if the tremors start to stop. But Preston…if the damage is more serious than we thought…" Dr. Shepherd's sentences were becoming incomplete, his throat constricted slightly. "You know the risks. You know that waiting could end up doing more harm than good. And you know-"
"Yes," Burke said quietly from his bed. "I know."
