Who Protects The Protector?
About ten minutes later Stan returned to the room to say, "It's all arranged. You have reservations at the Ranchero DeLux Motor Lodge which is only two miles from here as per request. The name doesn't sound like much but it's the only decent place close by. I've also made arrangements for a rental car to be delivered there."
"I doubt we'll be spending much time there anyway," James Mann commented.
"Thank you," Kathleen told Stan.
As much as Marshall had enjoyed his visit with Mary, it had tired him out and his head was beginning to hurt. Looking at his parents, he suggested, "Hey, why don't you let Stan take you to the motel to go get settled in and then grab something to eat?"
"Sounds like a good idea," Stan quickly cut in catching onto the subtle plea in the younger man's statement. "I think Marshall's probably due a visit from his doctor so you'd have to leave anyway."
"You take care and I'll be back later," Kathleen said to her son leaning down to kiss his forehead.
"I think I'm just gonna take a little nap while you're gone," Marshall said. He yawned and closed his eyes for emphasis.
"I believe that's our cue to exit," Stan said quietly firmly guiding the couple out of the room.
"I want to have a talk with his doctor," James was saying as they stepped out into the corridor.
"She'll probably still be around when you get back here," Stan replied quickly leading them out of the SICU.
As they were waiting for the elevator, Marshall's father said, "Now what exactly happened to our son?"
"Early Saturday morning Marshall was found unconscious in an alley near the body of a young murder victim. His assault is being thoroughly investigated by the local PD," Stan explained. "I can give you the name of the lead detective if you want to find out more,"
"Give me the name," James Mann decided.
"His name is Bobby Dershowitz and he's worked several local cases with Marshall and his partner. I know he will give the investigation his fullest attention," Stan answered.
"Marshall looks so bad," Kathleen murmured her careful composure disintegrating into worry
"He's alive, Kath. That's all that matters right now," James quietly reminded her.
Left alone Marshall tried to relax and go back to sleep but his headache wasn't going to let him. So after a couple of minutes he gave up and reached for the call bell.
About a minute later a nurse was in the room asking, "What do you need, Mr. Mann?"
"Something for my head. It's starting to hurt really badly" he replied.
"I'll be right back," the nurse said hurrying out. A moment later she was back with the painkiller which she injected into the IV.
"Thanks, Marshall told her as he felt the pain beginning to ease.
"I'll make a note in your chart about the headache. Dr. Featherstone wants to know how often you're having them and how severe. On a scale of one to ten how bad was it?" she asked.
"Seven—at its worst," the young man answered.
She made a quick notation on a pad sticking it back in her pocket. and then stepped into the bathroom to retrieve a cool damp washcloth which she placed on his forehead saying, "This should make you feel better."
"Yeah," Marshall said and watched her leave.
Fifteen minutes later the door opened to admit the neurosurgeon chart in hand. Walking over to the bed she said, "Mr. Mann, I'm Dr. Anitra Featherstone. How are you feeling right now?"
"Better. Headache's easing up," he replied.
"Any nausea, vision disturbances?" Dr. Featherstone asked pulling out her penlight to shine in his eyes.
"No and no," Marshall answered, making an attempt to sit up in the bed.
"That's good," she commented checking his eyes. "Your pupil response is satisfactory. However headaches aren't all that common with traumatic head injuries. If additional symptoms develop you need to tell someone."
"I will," he replied.
"I was planning on getting you up and walking tonight. But that can wait if you're not feeling up to it," The neurosurgeon said.
"I really need to get out of here. Have my work to get back to," Marshall told her.
She shook her head sternly and said, I'm afraid you're not going back to work just yet. When you were injured you sustained an epidural hematoma. That is--,"
"A blood clot which forms between the skull and the dura matter," Marshall interrupted. At her quizzical expression he added, "I like to read a lot."
Dr. Featherstone regarded him with folded arms and calmly continued, "Then you know how serious that can be. The clot was most likely caused by the depressed skull fracture you received. As soon you're transferred out of the SICU I want to keep you admitted for at least a few more days to see how well you're recovering. I hope you're smart enough not to try walking out of here AMA."
"I can't even remember why I'm in here," he said, sounding frustrated.
"And you probably never will clearly. Short term memory loss is always to be expected with head injuries like yours. It may take a couple of days to determine how much you did lose," the doctor said. "I'll be back later to see if you feel up to taking that walk. Meanwhile get some rest." PIcking up the chart she headed for the door.
"Marshall sighed and settled back against the pillows to lie just staring at the ceiling and making a half hearted attempt to distract himself by counting the holes.