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Special Thanks to the Usual Suspects, I couldn't do this without your help and support ladies! (HUGS!)
Warnings: Some of the subject matter may be difficult for sensitive readers.
Chapter 4
After moping aimlessly around his apartment for a few days, Starsky phoned Doctor Ben Franklin -the same man who had seen him through Vic Belamy's poisoning. He had to get some information about Hutch and his condition.
He related what little information he had on Hutch's injuries and condition to Doctor Franklin. Franklin was more forthcoming than the doctors at Duluth Memorial had been. But Franklin wasn't very encouraging after he had heard what Hutch's signs and symptoms were. After relaying what the senior Hutchinson had told Starsky, there was a long pause on the phone from the doctor's end.
"It sounds rather like global aphasia." Those words were followed by another long bit of silence from the doctor.
"What's that?" Starsky prompted the doctor, the quiet extended until he nearly screamed for the man to say something.
"Global aphasia… it's the most severe form of aphasia. People who have it can only produce few recognizable words and understand very little or even no spoken words. Reading and writing is also beyond them. The global form usually occurs after a stroke and there have been cases of rapid, even miraculous improvement-"
The brunet zeroed in on the last part of the doctor's speech. "Fantastic! That's great news Doc! That's such a relief to hear." He broke in, his tension flowing away from him in a tangible stream.
"Detective Starsky, David…" There was a long pause on the phone before the doctor spoke again. "He didn't have a stroke though, did he? The greater the brain damage, the more severe and lasting the disability. I'm sorry. From what you have told me, it sounds like it was significant. But without actually seeing your friend, I cannot diagnose or say anything with real certainty. There have been cases of miraculous recoveries. But again, I would temper any optimism with a large dose of reality."
This time it was Franklin's turn to listen to silence on the phone as the words slowly sank into Starsky's brain. The meaning of those words, what they meant to him, what they meant for his partner. Those words drifted like the last brittle fall leaf, it swayed to and fro in the turbulence of his mind and landed like a cannon ball in his gut.
"Detective?" The doctor prompted.
"Yeah?" Starsky was having difficulty assimilating the information provided by Doctor Franklin. It left him feeling disconnected and floating, rather the same way he felt after having a couple of cold tablets. The good doctor wasn't giving him much to hope for Hutch ever getting back what he had lost.
"Could you tell me the name of the physician that made this diagnosis?"
"Yeah… sorry… ummm… Doctor Robert Lottridge."
"I've heard of him. He's one of the very best in this country. He even has his own care and research facility near Duluth."
"Lottridge is that good?" The detective wasn't sure if he should be happy or upset by this news. If Lottridge was the best, there was no one else to take Hutch to for a second opinion.
"From what I've read, yes. His specialty is researching brain injuries and aphasia. He has proposed several new techniques that are quite innovative. I just read an article in 'Lancet' about one of his newer theories."
"Thanks Doc, thanks for the information." Starsky knew he did not sound at all grateful though. He didn't have the energy to even try right now.
"Any time Detective, any time… look, if you have any more questions, feel free to call me, all right?"
"Sure… sure I will. Thanks again, Doc." Starsky carefully set the receiver on the cradle of the phone and stared at it, still attempting to absorb all of the information the doctor had given him. His new companion, guilt, resettled itself on his shoulders and weighed heavily on him. He continued to stare at the phone until it began to blur.
XXXX
For Hutch, life had become a blur. It took him a long time before he could tell that days were passing. The view through his big window gave him a still life that his muddled brain had plenty of time to absorb. Dark to light and dark again. He as able to pick out a routine of events that occurred, day in, day out. He found a small measure of comfort in the unchanging schedule. The activity in his room was often too much, so he would turn his gaze to the calming, slow shifting view outside his window.
As more time went by, he became aware that people were doing things for him that he had once been able to do for himself and he grew weary of his new limitations. He had regained most of the feeling in his right arm and right leg, but he wasn't able to control them. It took a great deal of concentration and effort to move his fingers and toes.
What irritated him more than his nearly useless arm and leg was his inability to talk. When he tried, nothing came out. His frustration over his inability to communicate grew daily. And right now, his bladder was full and he didn't want to wet himself again, like… like… some scrunched-face, squalling… that word evaded him and Hutch pounded his left fist on the bed in irritation.
"Bxdoaw djaow jheg geks?" Crying female walked to his side. "Jwoh kaex."
He could tell she was asking questions from the way her voice raised slightly on the last words of each sentence. He glared at her and pounded the bed again, trying to force words out of his mouth. He could feel his jaw and lips opening and closing, but nothing came out. He tried harder.
"Ypxc eyak nez jploicke." She put her hand on his forehead and brushed back his bangs.
Hutch jerked his head away from her. He didn't want to be fussed over. He didn't want the tube stuck back in his privates to drain his bladder that way. Nor did he want be forced to use the diaper he was now wearing. He had to make her understand what he wanted.
"Jmka, zyea ajsoded knmaed?"
He tried to speak again, he gestured. She shook her head and fretfully ran her fingers through his hair. He twitched his head away from her caress.
"Hezeakdj? Wodyaej ljksfg?" She made a sour, pinched face then lifted the sheet and felt the area around his butt.
Hutch could feel his face heat up as he blushed and he batted at her hands. He simply hated it when she checked to see if he had wet or messed. He wasn't a crying ... squalling… he slammed his fist down hard as the word refused to show itself. His rage grew and his breath hissed angrily out from behind his clenched teeth.
"Waeouda wdoez?"
He struggled mightily to speak, he failed. He felt the blood pulse in his veins. Pain erupted in his head and black spots danced before his eyes as his headache grew. He tried to push through the pain as his anger rapidly grew beyond his ability to control it. He flailed and pounded the bed with his left hand and left foot. He wanted to get out of bed before he wet himself. He kicked the bed covers to the floor. He moved to the side of the bed, but the rails prevented him from putting his legs over the side. He pulled himself up and tried to climb over the rails.
Crying female leaned over him and tried to push him back down. He swung at her; she was putting weight and pressure on his belly, which was increasing his urge to go.
"Hglz! Hglz! Atabucnkst! Bikta kdja aodja!" She hollered.
Hutch slammed his eyelids down at the pain her shouting was causing him, the throbbing in his head increased, it was pounding in time with his heartbeat. He kept flailing and kicking. He couldn't seem to stop himself now that he had started.
"Hglz! Hglz! Atabucnkst!"
The door of his room banged open. Hutch jerked about to see who was entering. When he saw it was one of the women in white that had entered, he saw red and his rage exploded. She was the one who kept sticking him with… with… pointy, sharp… No! No! NO! He didn't want her around, didn't want to be poked with the pointy, sharp push-plunge thing again. Not again! NO!
Crying female pushed hard on his belly, attempting to hold him down. He felt as if he would burst if she continued.
"Nhhhhhh!" He forced the sound out as he struggled, he knew he wouldn't be able to last much longer; he had to go right now. He shoved crying female away from him and threw his left leg over the railing. He was determined to get to the… the… Hutch gave up on the word. Woman in white joined crying female and they pushed him back into the bed. Crying female ended up splayed across his belly, using her small weight to hold him down. Woman in white ended up on his chest, holding down his left hand, since his right refused to obey him.
Hutch struggled to move, but his limited strength was fading fast. Then to his shame, he felt warm wetness flowing. He turned his head to his pillow and buried as much of his red-hot face in it as he could. The fight went out of him.
The two women babbled back and forth in their strange language, he tuned them out as best as he could, beyond humiliated. The woman in white grabbed a wide belt and buckled his left wrist into it and did the same with his right. Hutch was tied to the bed and forced to endure being cared for like a squalling, red faced… he closed his eyes and wished himself, far, far away as they cleaned him up once more.
XXXX
Richard Hutchinson was in his study when he heard the commotion; he knew the source and bolted for his son's room. By the time he got there, the commotion was over. He stood in the doorway and watched silently as his wife and the nurse cleaned up his son, removing the soiled sheet and adult diaper. The linens were changed and a fresh diaper was placed on his son.
When the bed was back in order, he finally approached. Elizabeth slumped into a nearby easy chair, clearly exhausted. "What happened?"
"Nothing. It was nothing… everything is fine now." She smiled up at him.
He took in her disheveled appearance, and it told him everything was not fine. He let his expression tell her so.
"Richard… it was only this once. The doctor did say something like this could happen, we'll be more careful."
"What happened?" He repeated as he turned from his wife to the nurse. His eyes like blue laser beams locked onto her eyes, reading every nuance in her expression, as he would before the members in his boardroom.
She reddened under his disapproving scrutiny and broke off eye contact "I…I… I'm not sure. I just stepped out of the room for a moment-"
He cut her off. "You are not to leave his side." His quiet tone brooked no argument.
"I told her she could step out. She needs a break once in a while." Elizabeth chipped.
The senior Hutchinson let that response slide for now. He could always pick it up later. And he would, too. He peered at his wife's face; she had a red mark on her cheek. "How did that happen?" He cupped her chin and gently turned her head to get a full view of the red bruise that was blooming there. Her eyes darted unconsciously to her son's bed and back again. Richard saw it. "He did it?" he asked quietly.
"He didn't mean to, it was an accident. It won't happen again." Her hands fluttered fretfully like a butterfly with damaged wings.
He grabbed her hands and held them in his own. "I don't want you to get hurt."
"He didn't mean it. He doesn't know what he's doing."
Richard pulled her slowly to her feet "Go with the nurse, have her take care of that mark. I'll speak to you in a little while, all right?" He pushed her gently from behind, with a hand in the small of her back. The nurse nodded at him and they both left him in the room with Kenneth.
He stood with his back to the bed for a long time, before slowly turning around and walking over to his son. When he gained the side of the bed, he stood staring at the wall on the other side of it. It was so difficult to see his boy this way. Sure, they had had their differences, but he would never have wished this on Kenneth.
He looked down at his son, avoiding looking at his face Richard noticed the wide restraints on his boy's wrists. Kenneth must have been fighting hard for Elizabeth to have allowed them to be used. As Kenneth recovered from the accident and regained some of his strength, the threat of him having an 'outburst' - which was just another way of saying temper tantrum- increased. Doctor Lottridge had warned him as much. But for now he was letting Elizabeth play mother to their damaged son, something she had almost completely missed when Kenneth had been a baby.
It hadn't really been her fault that she had missed out on raising their son and daughter, not entirely. They both had been social butterflies, flitting to this party and that. All in the interest of making connections, building his network of friends, acquaintances and connections in the Corporate world in the shipping business and there was plenty of money to be made. But only with the proper connections.
Their children had been nearly completely raised by their nanny. He couldn't remember ever having changed a diaper in his life. He didn't think that Elizabeth had either, at least not until now. He gave a disgusted snort. Now she was getting the opportunity to do just that. She was trying to make up for lost time.
Richard rested his hands on the bed's railing and looked at the young man in the bed, though he studiously avoided looking at his son's face. He couldn't stand to see the blank expression he knew he would find there. The bright intelligence that had secretly made him very proud was now gone. Aside from the fading bruises and other healing injuries, Kenneth didn't look that much different now than he had before the accident. He shook his head, how fickle fate was.
He hadn't really had the chance to get to know his son. He backtracked a little. He hadn't made time. Richard quickly backed away from that line of self-critical thinking. He had done all he could and more to provide for his family. They lived in a beautiful estate, they had the very finest that money could buy. They belonged to all the right clubs and knew all the right people. Not only that, he was a success in his chosen field, like his father before him. He never understood why Kenneth hadn't been happy. He had opened doors to his son that had been closed to him when he had first started out.
There had been the escalating verbal battles. The emotional distance had only increased when Kenneth had told him he wanted to drop out of college to be a police officer. Richard never understood that. Why had his boy become a lowly police officer? He would never have his answer now.
The gap between them had become an ever-broadening chasm over proceeding years. And now… now… it was too late to build a bridge over that gorge, his child was gone. All that was left was this shell that looked like his son. Kenneth would never give him grandchildren and pass on the family name. His daughter Karen had shown no talent or interest in the shipping company and was now married to a promising young lawyer, a junior member of a good firm. The family business was doomed without a successor. This branch of the Hutchinson family tree was now severed.
He stared at the far wall at the pictures of Kenneth, first as a baby and he eyed each progressive photo, watching his son grow up all over again in those pictures. So much promise, so much potential, all of it wasted.
Richard slowly turned away from the bed without ever looking directly at the boy's face. He knew what he would see, that same dull, blank, uncomprehending expression he had seen back at the hospital. He just didn't have the strength to look at it again. It was like ripping the same scab off over and over. The wound was still too new and painful. Perhaps in a few days… He quietly walked out the door and closed it firmly behind him.
XXXX
Hutch looked up at his… stern-faced… it was too hard to think of the word for that man. His head pounded and he was exhausted from his struggles. He had watched as the man looked at him and waited for him to make eye contact. Stern faced never did. Hutch knew that look on his face though; he had seen it often enough in his youth. Surprisingly, that word did come to him. It was very clear in his mind, but he knew better then to try to speak it.
The word was disappointment.
It was a look he had frequently seen from stern faced man. Hutch turned his face away from the closed door.
TBC