Super Human 7
Author's note: the liquor that got stopped in Minnie's back is the brain fluid that envelopes the brain and spinal cord.
The slightest imbalance will make you really sick.
Also you will notice I had to make a couple of adjustments. The couch in Mark's living room is suddenly L-shaped. But that was necessary, so that Minnie can sit there comfortably, with her legs up.
Another adjustment is that the whole top floor of the Beach House is even. There are no steps down to the kitchen, so that Minnie can get easily around.
Another thing is that I have to take the story back in time. It takes place in late summer 2003, almost a year after Carol had been killed. But the thing with Ellen from the last movie has never happened. Going by air date, Carol would have died in February. But I decided to let Steve's birthday be in November. (Murder Can Be Contagious was aired in September, and Steve says it's still two months to his birthday in that episode.)
I know, everybody likes Steve a bit younger, but to me it makes more sense to let him be Barry's age, because there were repeated remarks about Steve been to Vietnam all throughout the show.
So, in this story he was born in November 1951.
Sorry for the hassle, but Minnie's age, and the ages of her children need some tweaking too. Minnie is thirty-four. That gives enough space between hers and Steve's age, and also bring her far enough away from the first estimated early twenties. Mette, her daughter is fifteen years old, and Jonte, her son, eleven.
I hope I have now taken everything into consideration.
-Super Human 7 -
Minnie woke up to a bright and sunny day, and first thought she must have had a bad dream.
But then again, who could have bad dreams in a wonderful place like this?
Also, the hard shell that encased her upper body easily served as a hint that it hadn't been a dream, as well as the nurse, who was sitting by her bedside.
"Good morning." the woman said brightly. "How are you feeling?"
"Uh, fine."
"My name is Elizabeth, and I'm gonna be your care giver today."
Minnie's brows went up, and she tucked her chin as far back as possible. "What care would you want to give me?"
"Whatever you need." Elizabeth told her. "From your personal hygiene, to getting dressed, and of course you have to be moved regularly, so you won't develop bed sores."
Minnie drew the covers up under her chin. "Ah, ya, fine. Nothing there I don't do alone myself just me."
Elizabeth stood up. "Maybe you should have a word with Dr. Sloan."
She left the door ajar, and after a minute Mark came in.
Her face fell when she saw that he was leaning on a cane, and that his face was almost ashen.
"My God, what happened?"
He gave her a smile, but it hurt her deeply to see how strained it looked, compared to yesterday. "Just a little recidivism." he said dismissively. He leaned his cane against the night case, sat down on the edge of the bed, and took her hand in his. "How are you today?"
"Orful." Minnie peeped meekly. "Look how much trouble I am."
"No not even a little bit of it." Mark assured her, and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.
"But you got a nurse for me. Really. I'm costing you an arm and a leg, and you are short of limbs anyway." she whined.
Mark chuckled. "Well, it's for a good cause."
"See? If this weren't such a wonderful place I'd say I wish Steve had never brought me here."
"If Steve hadn't brought you here," Mark said earnestly, "I don't think you would have survived."
Minnie's brows crawled up again. "Like, really?"
"Like really. Your accident caused a bleeding into your spinal canal, which obstructed the circulation of the liquor, and subsequently let your intracranial pressure rise."
She sucked her lips. "Oy."
"Oy indeed. We had to surgically remove the blood clot."
"You opened my spine?"
"Well, it was a microvasive procedure."
Minnie sucked her lips again.
"What is it?" Mark prompted her gently.
She shrugged. "Eww. Things have that nasty way of getting inflamed in my weird body."
"All the more reason that you take it easy for a couple of days, and let your nurse help you with your daily routine."
"My nurse?" Minnie squawked dismayed, "As in 'additional to what you have'?"
He chuckled softly, and rub-squeezed her arm. "Afraid I'd be no good helping you myself." he said, and wriggled his culpable stump.
"Why not? I mean I do everything all alone. I'm sure we could manage..."
Something in Mark's look made her fall silent.
He took her hand again, and gently rubbed it with his thumb. "Honey, the level of your injury is T9."
Minnie's brows crawled up again, and she scratched her forehead. "You said I had some blood in my spinal canal?"
"Yes." Mark confirmed gravely. "Enough to bruise your cord."
"Oy."
"As it is, you couldn't even sit up on your own. Not with that back brace anyway. You haven't got enough stomach muscle activity."
Minnie tried to, and found that she couldn't move an inch.
"Oy."
She tweaked her thigh, couldn't feel it, and tried to wriggle her toes.
Mark brushed his fingers over her cheek. "I'm terribly sorry Honey, but the paralysis is almost complete. There's only very little signal coming through beyond the lesion."
Minnie took his hand. "Now don't you worry. This isn't all that much of a big change. I will learn to sit up when I'm rid of this casing. And also, if the cord was just bruised, this is most likely to get better again."
"Yes. To an extent. Hopefully. And to be sure we get the max, I hired a physical therapist to work with you."
Minnie drew in a gasp. "Hired? As in 'throwing money out of the window'? Mark, really! You can't do that!" Her face wrinkled up, and she shrank back into her pillow. "Just stick me back in hospital if I need that much hassle."
He cupped her face in his hand, and said in gentle earnest: "I certainly won't do that."
"But I don't have the means to give you any money back." she squirmed.
"And I wouldn't take any of it."
"But if you put me back in hospital, neither of us has to pay. I'll get it back from my health insurance company."
Mark tried a different approach. "And spoil all my shrewd planning?"
Minnie's brows went up, and her chin all the way back.
He smiled. "Honey, I'm sorry, but I have every intention to be totally selfish on this, and to unblushingly take advantage of you."
Her expression remained the same unenlightened.
"It's good to have you here. My son hasn't been so much at ease around me in a very long time. In way too long a time. And without you, I wouldn't know what to to." He kissed her forehead. "Please Minnie. Steve is all that's left of my family. And I'm not growing any younger. I don't want to waste any more precious time."
Minnie knew he wasn't making this up, to put her at ease. She saw a pain in his eyes that went way beyond a disturbed father-son relation.
Her heart went out for him, and she wanted to take him in her arms. Somehow make things better for him.
But she was stuck like a bug on its back.
So she just took his hand and rubbed his arm with great affection.
He dropped another kiss on her forehead. "Okay?"
"Okay."
"Good." he said pleased. "It's a bit late. Do you want to have your breakfast before Elizabeth gets you ready?"
Minnie made a dismissive gesture. "She can go ahead. I don't need any breakfast."
Mark dipped his chin down and gave her a look like over the rims of his glasses. He picked up his cane, reached past the night case with it, and pulled an infusion stand into view.
"Saline, and nutrients." he said, tapping his cane at the bags.
"Hm?" Minnie made puzzled, and lifted her arms to look for an IV port.
Mark tapped the right side of her neck. "You have a central line here in your jugular vein."
"A central line?" she repeated, and felt for it herself. "Ain't them for totally ill people?"
"Yes they are. Especially for such ill people into which we have to infuse such great volumes of fluids, to keep their organs from failing, that the peripheral vessels couldn't handle the sheer amount."
She shrank into her pillow, and sucked her lips again. "Oy."
He rubbed her hand with his thumb. "You wanna tell me what your weight was, before you left Germany?"
"Uh, something like fifty. But that was in spring."
Mark sighed.
"I'm talking kilograms here." she added hastily. "Not pounds."
Mark sighed again. "Your weight is down to thirty-nine. Kilograms."
Minnie took hold of the covers, and pulled them all the way up to her eyes, which were big under elevated brows.
"Oy."
Mark chuckled softly, patted her thigh, and struggled up to his feet. "You want your breakfast in bed, or rather outside on the deck?"
Her face brightened instantly. "Am I allowed out of bed?"
"Sure Honey. You shouldn't use your chair for any great lengths of time, but you certainly can lie on the couch, or on a lounger in the backyard. Your back is okay. The fracture is no problem. It's just a little crack in one vertebra. And with the brace you can move pretty freely. - You want milk again?"
"Oh yes please."
"And toast, or maybe cereals? Or would you like pancakes? Or eggs?"
"Uh, toast will be all fine."
"Good." He shuffled towards the door. "I'm gonna send Elizabeth in to help you into your chair."
Minnie followed him with a sad gaze, wondering how his condition could have worsened so fast, so dramatically.
Elizabeth had let Minnie brush her teeth, and then agreed to her pulling her wheels herself, instead of being pushed out on the deck. The nurse only followed with the drips.
Minnie carefully steered the wide chair through the narrow door, and looked around, not too successful in hiding her disappointment.
"Is Steve not here?"
"No sorry Honey. He already left an hour ago." Mark didn't stand up, but he did seat her with his hand on her back. "Sometimes he just can't get around attending his job."
"Yes of course." she said, and sat up more straight with utter pride. "You know, he is a cop!"
Mark tee-hee-ed delighted. "Yes, I've heard rumors about that."
He folded his news papers, and put a slice of bread in the toaster. "He asks what rental your car is from. He wants to return it, so that you don't have to pay for it when you don't need it anyway."
"Uh," Minnie made indifferently, "that certainly is sweet." She scratched her forehead. "But actually I totally depend on it. I mean, I won't have to stay in bed for a very long time, will I?" She tucked her chin back when last day's call came back to her mind. "Hmm, come to think of it, there is no reason to stay any longer. My chair is gone. I don't have to wait for repair or anything." She lowered her head, knowing that her eyes would advertise her disappointment. "No reason to stay."
Mark reached over and gave her knee a reassuring pat. "Well Honey, you just had spinal surgery. I can't authorize a long distance flight for at least a week. Better two. Depending on the healing process." He took her hand. "I would really like to see that you recover fully, before you go back."
Mark smiled to himself, because Minnie actually slumped a bit in relief. But she seemed so intent on not admitting to it, that he better granted her some unpercievedness, and drank from his coffee.
The toast popped out, and he laid it on Minnie's plate.
"So where did you get that car from?"
"Oh. All the way out in San Clemente." she said, spreading butter on the crisp bread.
His brows crawled up. "You go that far for a crappy car?"
"Ya well, too bad one can't really rent crappy cars. But my sister knows folks down in San Diego, where she used to be an Au-Pair for some months. And them folks know folks in San Clemente who rent out cars, and happened to have that old Toyota in the backyard."
"They are acquaints, and they still let you pay for it?" Mark said in disbelief. "Even when you had to cancel your room and live in that car instead for God knows how long?"
"Well they aren't really acquaints." Minnie clarified, while she scanned the variety of spreads. "I don't even know the Au-Pair family. I'm just another customer, who only happened to get a good deal."
"Well to me it seems there is room for doubt on that one." Mark muttered.
"Not much. Because of course I pay for what I rent." she stated as a fact, and took a bite of toast.
"Honey," he said dismayed. "Nothing here that suits your taste?"
"Yea. No. Don't worry. I really like toast with just butter."
"No cream cheese? No jelly? Not even peanut butter?"
Minnie's subconscious took over, and let her wrinkle up her nose in disgust.
"And the cold cuts?"
She shook her head. "No really. I like my breakfast sweet."
"Butter isn't very sweet."
"But tasty anyway. Please don't worry. I'm all fine."
Mark left it at that, and watched her nibble her toast for some moments.
At that rate, he worried inwardly, it might easily take months to put the required twenty pounds on her.
Well, if she can stay that long, fine with him.
He leaned back with a pleased smile. "You should call your family today."
"Mm, yeah. Maybe. Is there a pay phone nearby?"
He rolled his eyes with an indulgent chuckle.
"No really!" Minnie insisted aghast. "You have any idea how expensive long distance calls are? I can't possibly..."
Mark leaned over, and gently laid his hand on her arm to soothe and silence her.
"Honey, can we agree that it will take some years of nurse service, and a lot of long distance calls, before my money runs out?" He took her hand and gave it an affectionate squeeze. "You are my guest. And as my guest of course you can use my phone."
She sucked her lips, embarrassed that she had made him spell out his hospitableness.
"Mi casa es su casa." Mark said gently, and gave her hand another squeeze. "Take a break, Honey. You don't have to worry about money while you are in my house, okay? This is your vacation, and I want you to enjoy it with no cares at all."
Minnie looked down at her small white hand in his big, tanned one.
The touch felt incredibly good.
And it felt incredibly good to not be scared.
In the opposite. For the first time she felt safe.
She was well aware that she only knew these two men for only two days. But it just didn't feel like that.
She breathed a sigh. The only bad thing about this all was, that she would have to leave. Only too soon.
She pulled out from under the table and wheeled the stride over to Mark. With another sigh she leaned against his chest, tucking her arms in between them for comfort.
Mark smiled. He closed his arms around her, and dropped a kiss on her head.
And it felt incredibly good to know that she wasn't grossed out by being touched with his stump.
Steve was sitting at his desk, his ankle up on his knee, and the keyboard across his lap. With his eyes on the screen he typed in rows and rows of endless data, when the door opened after a sharp knock.
"Sloan?"
Steve looked up and set his foot down. "Chief."
The tall superior with the receding hairline came in, and sat down on one of the visitors chairs before Steve could invite him to.
For a moment he just sat, and let his cool stare rest on the detective, knowing it would make him sweat. - If only just a bit.
Then he asked: "How is Mark?"
"Better." Steve laid the keyboard on his desk, and put his ankle up again in a display of self-confidence. "I took him back home yesterday."
"And you don't want to stay with him?"
Steve made a dismissive gesture. "We have the house full of nurses and household helps." And a cute little thing that had come in like a missing link he thought, and cast a look into his mug, in which the contents had gone visibly stale.
"Coffee?" he asked and stood up, knowing that his offer would be declined.
Chief Masters never ate in the presence of his subordinates, and only under very rare circumstances would condescend to have a possibly sociable cup of coffee.
Which was so today. "Yes. Thanks. Black."
Steve reached for a second mug, and turned his broad back towards the chief, to make sure he wouldn't catch a glimpse of his raised eyebrows.
Even though he felt like sweet today he left the sugar out of his coffee too. He set one cup on the table, and sat down again with the other, and again put his ankle up on his knee.
Masters picked up his cup. "Is that likely to happen again?" he asked, expecting the detective to figure out he was referring to yesterday's unexpected crisis.
Steve shrugged. "Dad is going on eighty. At his age he doesn't heal easily anymore." he repeated what Jesse had told him. "Especially pneumonia can be trouble in more than just one way."
Masters nodded. He took a swig of coffee and leaned back, putting his foot up like Steve, without losing any of his impeccable posture.
Holding his chin up high he watched the detective over the rims of his slim glasses, surprised to find him a lot more at ease than three days ago. He certainly had expected the opposite.
Lieutenant Sloan was a tough man, with only one soft spot: his father.
So it hadn't come as a surprise that he had run around like a zombie for the past months, barely able to concentrate on anything. But it sure was a surprise that he was so relaxed today.
"I'm gonna need an answer soon."
Steve sighed and set his mug down on the desk.
His Dad wanted to go back to work. And even if he couldn't, Steve had a feeling that he wasn't half as much needed at home as he had expected.
On the other hand, he had been lying awake for quite a while last night, and discovered a lot of new thoughts and ideas.
Maybe it was time for a change. Even if he wasn't able to find a girl, and start his own family, there was no reason not to have a family life. His Dad wouldn't be around indefinitely. So why not spend more time with him now, instead of mourning all the things they hadn't done, when it was too late.
The chief took another swig, and looked squarely at Steve. "Sloan, you are the best horse in my barn, and I don't like to lose you. But," He lowered his chin a bit, to intensify his stare. "there will be a time when I will need a successor. And until then you have to have made it to commander. - So. I want you to take the rest of the day off. And unless you come up with a reason why you shouldn't, until ten tonight, I want you to report tomorrow morning in Malibu. Johnson had to take his boy back to hospital, and asked for leave. You will be interim captain for the remaining month. Two months if you need more time. But then I want an answer." He stood up and set his cup on the table. "Thanks for the coffee, Detective." And on his way out he added: "My regards to Mark."
Steve sat stunned, and watched how the shaking blind on the door came slowly to a rest again.
"How do you mean, just a basic model?"
"Miss Doorn's wheelchair was a lightweight sports model. But of course we cannot provide extravagances like that, after the chair was negligently damaged."
"Extravagances?" Mark flared up. "You call a wheelchair an extravagance?"
"I call a lightweight sports chair an extravagance." the insurance manager on the other side of the telephone line said unperturbed. "One we are under no obligation to provide. But to show our goodwill, we would allow a standard chair, so that she will be able to get around. But if Miss Doorn wants to have another sports chair, I suggest that she sues the owner of the faulty ramp for it."
"Miss Doorn doesn't want to sue, because A, she cannot afford to pay for that in advance, and B, she fears that she will lose the case, and end up saddled with more debt."
"Well," the manager said lightly, "maybe she shouldn't have admitted so freely that she wasn't looking where she was going."
Mark was furious, and his white mustache bristled. "I wonder how you can still sleep at nights."
"I sleep very well, Dr. Sloan. We aren't the welfare. We are proceeding within certain guidelines and rules. And a basic standard chair is all we can do for Miss Doorn."
"Thank you very much." Mark said stiffly, and disconnected the call.
Unbelievable! he thought annoyed.
After a moment to calm down a bit he picked up the calling card, and called his medical supply shop.
"Dr. Sloan here. I have a question you might be able to help me answer. What is the difference between a basic standard wheelchair, and a sports wheelchair?"
"Well, A standard wheelchair is just that. A standard wheelchair. It's made to fit the largest possible number of people, with the widest possible range of disabilities. A sports chair is custom built for its user and purpose."
"Why would a standard chair be so much harder to move than a sports chair?"
"Just simply by the position the user assumes. In a sports chair you sit upright, the knees slightly higher than the derrière, the knees snug together, and the feet straight down, or even better, slightly tucked back. In a standard chair the user almost always automatically slouches, and the whole position more like in a recliner. The wheels are usually attached to an extension of the backrest, which means the user has to reach back, which usually gets impeded by a wide and high backrest. On a sports chair the backrest is as low as possible, which depends on the disability of the user. But they very rarely come higher than the lumbar spine. The axle is aligned with the user's center of gravity. Like that you sit between your wheels, instead of before them. Like that you can transmit a lot more power, and can steer a lot more precise. And lastly, sports chairs are rigid. That makes them track adherent and nimble. - Drive your car without power steering and brake assist, and you will know what I mean."
"I see." Mark said, and thought for a moment. "Say, if I were to buy a sports chair, what would you recommend?"
"Right here on the phone, nothing. Depends on what sport you need it for, what your disability is, and also how much money you want to put into it. The prices differ by a couple of thousand Dollars."
"I see. - Here is another thing you could help me with. You had a German sports chair for repair."
"Yes, but I'm afraid it is beyond repair."
"Yes I know. That's why I need a new one."
"So the chair isn't for you?"
"No. It's for said German girl."
"Are you planning this to be a surprise?"
Mark smiled. "Yes, as a matter of fact."
"Forget it. A wheelchair is no neck lace. There are dozens of choices that have to be made. Starts with the seat sling, upholstery for the backrest, material of the side guards, spokes, tubular footrest or flat, side guards on the footplate or no, frame inset or no, micro casters or polyurethane, hand rims, treads, push handles, camber, and, and, and. And this doesn't even include the angles of the seat, the knees, nor the wheel base."
Mark sat with his brows up in stunned amazement, and said laconically: "I see."
"I really would advise you to to let her select her chair herself. And if you need advice, just call us, or drop in."
Hmm, this seemed to be trickier than expected.
But well, not that he would mind solving a problem.
His mind seemed to need some dusting anyway.
He thanked for the help, and put the phone back.
Minnie came back out onto the deck, where Mark was sitting at the table, breathing slowly into a respiratory therapy appliance, where a little plastic ball hung suspended in the air stream.
He put it down on the table. "Honey, how was the therapy?"
"Well, not that I was allowed to do anything." she replied. "He just moved and mobilized me."
Mark patted her knee. "You gonna be active in your therapy soon enough. But first we have to see that your spine heals, and that your general state improves."
"Ya but I'm not really ill. I just didn't drink enough, and that let me keel over."
"Afraid it's more complicated than that. - Honey, you want to tell me how you got into this bad shape?"
Minnie drew back in surprise. "I'm not in bad shape, and I didn't get into it."
Mark took her hand to soothe her. "You said things have been a bit stressful lately?"
She shrugged. "Hm ya well, maybe a leetle bit."
"Stressful in what way?"
She shrugged again. "Well, I had to win this trip." she said, like this should be obvious to everybody.
Which it wasn't. At least not to Mark, so he prompted her to go on.
"It was a weird thing." Minnie elaborated. "Every hour they gave a code number after the news. And who had most of them was the winner."
Mark inclined his head. "A whole day?"
She tucked her chin back. "A whole month."
"Honey, just to get this straight. You say you collected hourly codes for a month?"
"Well yes I had to, hadn't I?"
"Forgive me for being dense, but are we talking every hour here? I mean 24/7?"
"Yeah." Minnie said warily, a bit unclear about Mark's fascination with that point.
"Honey, when did you sleep?"
"Between the codes." she said, stating the obvious.
"A whole month?"
"It would have made no sense if I had done it only for a half month." she pointed out.
Mark leaned forwards, letting out a lot of breath, and taking Minnie's hand in his. "No, that wouldn't have made any sense." he agreed gently. "But at least I know now how you could get into such a poor state of health."
"But I'm fine," she assured him. "Please don't worry."
Mark leaned another bit forwards, and dropped a kiss on her forehead. "Okay. - But if you don't mind me asking: you went to such lengths for a weekend trip?"
"Ya no of course not. I meant to win the ten thousand Euros. But too bad, there was a company that worked around the clock, and had the staff on shift collect the codes. I'm afraid I was lazy and slept through a couple of them. So I made only second place."
She breathed a little sigh, and looked around. "But I'm glad I didn't win."
Mark lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. "Yes Honey, I am too."
They sat for a moment in mutual silence, each holding on to the hand of the other, deriving a pleasant sense of comfort from the touch.
"Say Minnie, I'm wondering. Are your children in good care?"
"Well yes. I mean I couldn't go gallivanting off, while my children are in some dreary place."
Mark chuckled. "And I wouldn't have thought so. But can their stay be extended? - I mean, you had to face a prolonged stay anyway, if your chair could have been repaired."
"Yes." she confirmed. "But that would have been some kind of emergency. My children are staying with my sister, and I would hate to burden her any longer than necessary with them?"
"Are they troublesome?" he wondered, unable to believe that.
"No I think my children are pretty okay. But my sister is terribly occupied. You know, they are running their own business. She has to get up all early in the morning, and then works pretty much straight into the evening. You know, they are planning to expand their business, and open another shop."
"And the children?"
"Oh. Mother-in-law is herding them. You know, sister has two little ones too. Really little ones. Her boy is just two years old. Well, her daughter isn't all that little. She's five."
Mark rubbed the back of her hand. "So actually you aren't burdening your sister at all."
Minnie pondered that thought for a moment. "Hmm, well. Maybe not during day time. But still, Eske has to get now four children ready in the morning."
"Honey, your daughter is fifteen. Does your sister really have to get her ready in the morning?"
"Ya no of course not. She's really very independent. You know, she actually is the little ones' babysitter for evenings when mother-in-law won't come."
"So, to me it seems that your sister is getting more assistance out of the stay, than additional work."
Minnie's brows went up, as she was pondering this some more.
"Did she tell you it's getting too much for her?"
"Oh no she would never." she assured him. "Eske is just wonderful. When she heard about this trip there was no question that she would take the children."
"So why are you thinking it's too much for her?"
"Well, she wasn't exactly eager to take them. You know, it was just obvious that it would mean an additional hassle."
Mark sighed, and gently rubbed circles on the back of Minnie's hand.
"So the bottom line is: you could easily stay longer than planned."
"Yes I could. But I'd really hate to dump my children on sister's shoulders, only to go gallivanting and have a good time."
"Honey I wouldn't call this gallivanting." Mark said, his tone changing to business now. "You are ill, and I would just hate to let you go back before you have recovered completely."
"I'm fine." she assured him, and tapped her stomach. "At least I will be, when this shell comes off."
From inside came the clicking of heels, and Mark turned his head to see who was coming.
"Amanda." he beamed, and let go of Minnie's hand to draw his friend into a hug. "What brings you here?"
"Yeah well let's see what could that be?" Amanda said sarcastically, "First thing I hear this morning is that you completely ran yourself into the ground yesterday, and refused to be treated, until you nearly fell flat on your face."
Mark chuckled softly. "I did not refuse to be treated. And as you can see now," he pointed his chin at the entrance, "we are having plenty of nursing staff, and help for the household. And," he added, indicating the plastic device on the table, "I'm doing my exercises. - And now I want you to meet Minnie. Minnie, this is Amanda Bentley, a colleague of mine, and a very good friend."
Amanda looked down at the - obviously - uneasy little person for a moment, and then held out her hand with a smile. "Oh hello, I already heard about you. A pleasure to meet you."
Minnie shook her hand timidly.
"Minnie will be staying with us." Mark said, and picking up on her unease, he took her hand again. "Honey, Amanda is a single mother too. And her boys are just about the same ages like your kids. I'm sure you guys will be having lots of things to talk about. Amanda, come, sit with us. We gonna have lunch in a minute."
Amanda checked her watch. "I don't think I've got the time for lunch, but I would like to make sure you are alright."
She set her doctors bag purposeful on the table.
"Amanda I'm fine." Mark said good-naturedly. "Philippa checked me very thoroughly this morning, and I think I have enough medical knowledge to determine that I have no fluids in my lungs."
"Your medical knowledge didn't keep you from pushing yourself over the edge yesterday." Amanda chided.
And felt instantly sorry for her harsh reaction, but she had spent the whole morning sick with worry.
But before she could apologize, Mark gave her a very mellow smile, and patted her arm. "I'm sorry, Darling. Of course you want to be sure."
He unbuttoned his shirt to grant her access to his upper body.
In the end Amanda did stay for lunch, because she hadn't expected it to literally be just a minute to it.
Although she had to rush through the meal and hurry on, while Minnie was still far from being even half done with her saimin soup.
Mark watched her for some moments, as she cautiously navigated her spoon through the contents of her bowl.
"You're so quiet, Honey. Anything wrong?"
Minnie shook her head.
"Come on, out with it." he prodded her gently.
She leaned back, and wiped her mouth on the napkin. "Your lady doctor friend puts a lot of blame on me."
"Oh I think you must be mistaken there." Mark told her confidently, and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.
"It's either that," Minnie went on unperturbed, "or she just plain doesn't like me. Which is not entirely unsuspected. People who are so successful in their job, usually don't have much appreciation for dumb little girls like me."
"Honey no, I promise you Amanda isn't like that. She is one of the kindest souls I have ever met. - And you are certainly not dumb."
"Ya but successful people never find out, because they never talk to me. Really, I'm still totally amazed that you do."
Mark gave her hand another squeeze. "Of course I do, and I enjoy it very much. And Amanda will too. Maybe she wasn't completely herself today in her worry. And I have to give her that pneumonia at my age is more often than not fatal."
"Yes. And after all, I am to blame for this relapse, ain't I?"
"Hush Honey. Nobody is to blame."
"But if I had let you put me in hospital, like you wanted to the other night, you wouldn't have gotten so ill, would you?"
"I'm not going to listen to any more of this, Honey." He lifted her hand to his lips and dropped a kiss on it. "You can't be in hospital, and that's it."
"Did I act weird?" Minnie wondered.
"You didn't act weird. You were frightened to death."
She sat back again, and searched her mind for memories.
The whole day seemed to be such a haze. That is, the morning was okay. But after that pain had started, that had made breathing so terribly impossible, it had just been like she was in the inside of a cotton ball.
The ride in the ambulance was quite clear again, after she had been injected with a real strong painkiller. That effect had lasted until she was inside the MRI machine.
And then?
A haze.
But she did remember that Steve had been with her.
She sighed.
Steve.
"Thanks again." Steve yelled, and hopped out of the helicopter, ducking under the swirling blades.
He had returned the car to San Clemente, and for his trip back had asked ina favor of an acquaint, a news helicopter pilot, to spare himself a tedious hour's ride back into town.
Now he just had to get to his car, then he would be back home for most of the afternoon.
He flagged down a taxi, and leaned back in the seat, looking out of the window.
The sky was particularly blue today.
And the air coming in from the ocean was fresh.
He switched cars, got onto PCH, and cruised out to Malibu with his side window down, and his elbow resting on the open frame.
When he reached Trancas he set the blinker for the left turn lane, but then thought better of it, and did a right turn instead and pulled into How's parking lot.
He entered the flower shop, and faltered a bit.
It wasn't like he had great experiences with flowers. He usually bought roses. Usually to apologize for missing a date or something like that.
He usually bought roses because he knew that women love roses.
But frankly, with Minnie he just wasn't sure.
And also, roses carry a lot of meaning.
Well, with the help of the shop girl he settled for a little bouquet of blue, yellow and white, the daisies being the only flowers he would recognize.
He tipped the girl generously, and headed back to his car.
"Jesse, hey Jesse!" Amanda called, and started to run best as she could with her heels on that smooth hospital floor. "Jess!"
"Oh hey Amanda," the young doctor said absently, reading a patient chart on his way down the hall.
"Wait," Amanda demanded, holding on to his arm as she minced to a slower pace. "what in the world is going on at Mark's?"
"What do you mean 'going on'?" Jesse said, and flipped the page around.
"Hey," Amanda snatched the chart. "listen to me." She started gesturing wildly with the chart. "What is it with that girl?"
"What's there to be?" Jesse wondered, and went on on his way.
"What's there to be?" Amanda repeated exasperated, scurrying after him. "I'm gonna tell you what there is. When I came out on the deck, I found Mark and this - girl, holding hands!"
"So what?" Jesse said. "They did that yesterday all the time."
"What?"
"Yea I didn't think any of it. She was frightened, and Mark comforted her."
"Oh no no no no no!" Amanda wagged her finger wildly before his face. "No! There was no fright involved. They were just sitting there," She now stabbed her finger into thin air, like she was pointing at them, "enjoying themselves."
"So what are you saying?" Jesse asked, still completely underwhelmed. "That Mark's got a crush on her?"
"Obviously!" Amanda hissed. "What are we going to do about it?"
Jesse raised his brows, and took back his chart. "Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"Nothing. Look Amanda, Mark has gone through a lot of trauma lately. First he lost his daughter, and then his arm. If he thinks it is a little cutie he needs to be happy, then I sure as heck am not going to take that away from him. I've taken enough away already as it is."
"Jesse, that is exactly it! He has been through two of the worst traumata there are. He lost a child, and he lost a part of his body. And he hasn't come to terms with either."
"Oh come on, you know how they are. They are both keeping everything inside. That's just the Sloan-way."
"Just what I say!" Amanda insisted. "Maybe he just snapped."
"Did he act snapped?"
"He acted like I've never seen him act before."
Jesse shrugged, and went on on his way. "Well, he never had a disability before."
Author's Note:
The spine is subdivided in cervical (C), which is the neck, thoracic (T), which is the chest part that curves out backwards, and lumbar (L), which makes the waist, and curves inward again.
The higher the level of injury is, the harder it is to move, because more and more muscles are involved, the higher it gets. If the cervical spine is injured, the hands will be paralyzed too. The worst spinal injury is C1. If the spinal cord gets severed at that high point, the whole body will be paralyzed, including the muscles that are needed for breathing and swallowing.
If the lumbar spine is injured, it's possible that it has very little effect on the body. The spinal cord ends between L1 and L2. Below that level it is just a bundle of individual nerves, called cauda equina. So if injury happens there, it isn't the main line that gets shut off. Only that particular part that is powered by that particular nerve will cease to work.
A fourth part of the spinal column is the tail bone, sacral (S). But that part is fused together, and has no intervertebral discs.
Minnie's level of injury is T9, which is located below her shoulder blades. That means she has no control over her stomach muscles, and even sitting up unsupported is difficult.
