CHAPTER 4
"Steve, this just doesn't sound like Danny. Do you know who the lady is?" Duke asked.
"I've heard him speak of her, maybe, I don't remember exactly. But it seems like it was all a long time ago. I didn't think he was involved with anyone seriously at the moment-and surely not seriously enough to almost get arrested for an angry domestic disturbance!"
The thought of one of his men being ejected by HPD from anyone's property as a personal threat was so outside of what he would expect of any of them, including Danny. Sure, he had his share of relationships that didn't turn out well, but Danny was always responsible and respectful of women. As far as Steve knew, his breakups were usually amicable.
As Steve pondered the possibilities of what could have happened to put Danny in the angry state that the officers reported, Duke interrupted, "You gonna call the lady?"
"You bet I am!" In Steve's mind, there was no question he would talk to her, but right now there were more pressing matters. "But not yet. It's not even dawn yet, and I want to know more about how Danno is. I'll wait a while…."
"Steve," Doc Bergman called as he walked up. "Duke."
"Doc! How is he?" Steve implored, hoping for good news.
"Gentlemen, follow me," as he motioned with his hands and led them through the double doors of the ER. Just inside, he stopped at an isolated nurses' station and turned around toward them. "Just trying to achieve some privacy. I've seen Danny. His condition is very serious." Steve and Duke looked at each other wordlessly, then back at Doc, who continued. "Luckily, his head injury is just a mild concussion. He has bruises and lacerations all over, but we don't believe so far that his internal organs are damaged. We'll still have to watch those for hemorrhaging, though."
Doc took a pause to collect himself, and Steve didn't make a single comment. He was still listening, still holding his breath because he knew there was more.
Doc then thoughtfully considered his words as he delivered the worst news. "The real issue is the condition of his legs. The bones in both of the lower legs—the tibia and the fibula-are broken. His right leg should heal eventually, but his left leg is much worse." Doc had been glancing back and forth between Steve and Duke as he spoke, but then he looked directly at Steve. "This left leg was virtually crushed from the knee down. The bones are in several pieces, and the arteries are damaged." Bracing himself and his audience, Doc added, "He could lose it."
Duke winced and Steve closed his eyes at the prospect.
"I have an orthopedic surgeon coming in to see Danny any minute. A vascular surgeon is on his way, too. My guess is Danny will be in surgery within the hour. They'll have to see how much repair work is even possible. If the left leg can be repaired, this may be just the first of several surgeries to get him back on his feet." The good doctor and friend to this team shook his head in sorrow. "It's really an unfortunate injury for someone so athletic and active."
Steve stuttered out his first attempt at a response. He could barely speak. "But…, but his life…, his life is not in danger?" Despite the dire diagnosis, Steve sought out the bottom line.
"I wouldn't go that far, Steve," Doc answered cautiously. "The condition of his legs could cause all sorts of systemic problems, and as I said, we're still evaluating any damage to his internal organs. But, I'm optimistic, yes."
Duke could tell Steve was shaken, so he inserted his own thoughts. "But his leg…. Will the surgeons know before surgery if they can save it?"
"An educated guess, maybe, but it's probably a decision that will be made during surgery." Putting his hands reassuringly on the two men's shoulders, Doc reminded, "I'll be there. You know the decision will be made very carefully. Amputation is an option only if it can't be avoided to save Danny's life."
He continued, "You know, gentlemen, that is what is most important, that Danny lives, no matter what else happens." It was a statement that had to be made, Doc believed, to put into perspective the terrible prospect of the loss of a limb.
"I know, Doc." Steve paused to catch his breath and strengthen his voice. "Has he regained consciousness?"
Taking a deep, regretful, breath of his own, Doc sighed in a distressed way, "Yes."
"Why do you say it like that, Doc? Isn't that a good sign?" Duke inquired.
"Generally, yes. But at least when he was unconscious, he wasn't hurting. Unfortunately, the pain is intolerable, and I can't give him anything more for it with surgery around the corner. It's hard to see, even for me; he's barely handling it. I'm not sure it's a good idea for you two to see him before the surgery."
Duke was silent at that response, accepting the recommendation but feeling every sympathy for his young friend in pain.
Steve was also silent, but in a way that reminded Doc of a caged bear. He was not to be held back. You don't tell Steve McGarrett he can't do something, not when it's this important. Changing his mind, Doc spoke up."Steve, if I let you see him, you'll know right away that he's not up for questions about the accident. He only needs reassurance at this point, and a little strength if you've got any to spare."
Grateful for the reprieve, Steve conceded, "No questions, Doc. Only encouragement. I promise."
"I'll just wait. Tell him I'm here rooting for him, though," Duke offered.
"Will do," Steve responded as he walked away with Doc toward the examination room.
As he caught up to Dr. Bergman, Steve stopped the good doctor and asked quietly. "Does Danno know what the surgery might involve?"
Doc did not look at Steve as he walked and answered. "He knows, Steve."
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So many odd sounds greeted Steve as he entered the exam room behind Doc. Such a quiet place, but so noisy at the same time. Machines whirred, IV's dripped, the heart monitor beeped at a fast pace. Yet the sound most distinctive of all was that of fast, heavy, hitched breathing punctuated with painful moans from the patient who was the center of the attention of two nurses in the room.
With the patient's lower body nearest the door, the first thing Steve saw was the heaps of formerly white, but now bloody, cloth and sheets and compression bandaging cradling and covering Danny's legs. One nurse was gently wiping at the area, keeping it as well shielded as she could to prevent the patient—and his visitor—from seeing the damaged limbs.
At the far end of the gurney, Steve could see the unmistakable curly hair that was characteristic of his friend. Danny's head thrashed from side to side with each moan of pain, and he was trembling. Even though he was receiving oxygen, Danny was holding his breath frequently, letting it out, then holding it again, apparently as some irrational defense against the pain.
Doc approached Danny and spoke to him, "Danny, Steve's here. He wants to see you just for a moment."
Danny's head stopped thrashing long enough to hear Doc and then look toward the other blurry person who had entered the room. "Steve," he said.
"Hey there, aikane. I'm here. Duke's here, too—he's right outside." The gentleness with which Steve spoke shocked even him, so much so that he found he had tears in his eyes for the state of his friend. Coming closer, he noticed how Danno's fingers gripped the white sheet which covered him with white-knuckled tightness and how his face dripped with sweat from the exertion of managing the pain.
"Hey," Danny struggled to speak. "Sorry about… all this. …You've got… better things … to do…."
"Yeah, like sleep! And it looks like I'll have to find somebody to cover for you for a couple of days. Think you can get well by then?" Steve teased, trying to take both of their minds off the pain.
"I'll see… what I… can do…," Danny said between trembling breaths. He was starting to thrash his head again against the pain when Steve put his hand over one of his white-knuckled fists. Danny turned his hand over to hold Steve's and squeezed it so tightly, it temporarily went numb.
Doc's concerned voice echoed in the room, "Danny, try to regulate your breathing. It doesn't do any good to hold your breath against the pain."
"I'm… trying…." Lifting his head and attempting to look down toward his damaged and painful limbs, Danny's voice panicked, "I need to see my legs! I can't move them! If I could just move them, they would feel better!"
Steve tried his best to encourage him. "Listen, Danno. Just hang on. You can do this."
Seeing Dr. Bergman on his other side, Danny spoke urgently to him, "Doc… how much… longer? What… what are we waiting for?"
Steve glanced up at Doc whose face showed much empathy but no surprise at the amount of pain Danny was suffering.
"The surgeons should be here any minute to check your legs, and then we can put you under for surgery."
Sweat dripped from his brow, and Danny's eyes closed tightly for a few moments, then opened and traveled over to look at Steve again. "And you always thought… I'd get hurt… surfing."
Steve chuckled a little, even with his watery eyes. "Yeah. Who knew you'd wipe out on the Pali, instead of the Pipe?"
"And I thought… taking a drive… to clear my head… would work. It… doesn't." As he spoke, Danny's face cringed in discomfort.
Steve turned more somber as he remembered hearing about the events of the previous evening, before the accident. Just as I thought. He was upset, took a drive, and crashed.
Realizing talking about the events with the lady he'd heard about would do Danno no good now, Steve changed the subject. "Hey, maybe you can try to sleep until the surgery?"
"Hurts too much." Danny closed his eyes as his struggle with the constant burning pain heightened. "Doc," he began, "just take it off. It hurts too much."
Steve's eyes darted up in alarm toward Doc, whose attention was further raised by the question, "Take what off, Danny? The sheet? The bandages?"
"No! My leg! My leg! Just take it off! I can't wait any longer!" His nearest hand was grabbing at Doc's jacket and tie.
"Danno, no! Don't talk like that!" Steve ordered as he tried to capture the flailing hand and calm his friend.
"We're going to try to save your leg, Danny. We'll do our best. The surgeons will be here any minute. Now you need to stay still," Doc demanded as he, too, pushed down the body of the increasingly thrashing patient.
"No! No! Let me go. Just let it all… go. If I… lose… my leg, Steve… I won't be… any good… to you. No good… to anybody." His fit was winding down into the persistent tense trembling that was so apparent when the two had first entered the room
Steve spoke softly but firmly and directly. "Nonsense, Danno. You're going to be OK, no matter what happens. You'll come out of this OK. I promise."
Spent and depleted, Danny grew quiet and sunk deeper and deeper into the ache of his injuries and his black frame of mind.
A doctor dressed in green scrubs entered the exam room, and Dr. Bergman sighed in relief and greeted him warmly, then told Steve, "Steve, it's time to go."
Grateful for the time he had been able to spend with Danno, Steve made up his mind to do as he was told. "One of your surgeons is here, Danno. I'll be here when you wake up." He peeled back Danno's fingers from his numb hand and replaced them back on the edge of the sheet.
Danny took a moment to try to focus on Steve's face. He wanted to thank Steve for being there. He tried to say something important, but the hole of anguish in which he was buried was just too deep.
Not understanding the vague stare and mumbled words from his friend, Steve simply patted Danno's shoulder and turned to leave.
Steve then nodded apprehensively at Doc, gave the surgeon a cold stare, and said firmly as he left the room, "Take good care of him."
