Chapter 21

Paul paced up and down for the rest of the day. He did not eat or drink, and by evening, felt his physical weakness returning. Emotionally, he was a wreck, and in the end he had to lie down.

He woke in the early hours of the morning, having had nightmares about Alon that disturbed his sleep. He went over to Alon's bed, and knelt at the foot of it, just outside the sterile field.

Paul began to pray, and to cry. All he had recently learned about God and about himself stormed in his head. He was angry. How could God do this to a child? In his mind he screamed as the tears ran down his face. When he could cry no more, he fell silent, and became apologetic. He was weakened by this, and fell asleep leaning on the bed.

He woke once again, just as day broke. He was resting the side of his head on the end of the bed, not caring that he was in the sterile field. He scratched at his face. Something was pawing at him. He looked up, and then leapt to his feet as he could hardly believe his eyes. Alon lay awake, blinking.

"Alon!" screamed Paul. He ran into the corridor. "He's awake! He's awake! Thank God!" He ran back to Alon when he heard a rush of footsteps. "Someone's coming Alon! Hang in there!" Paul realised he was hyperventilating and stopped talking. He held his hand over his mouth, and breathed deeply for a while.
"Welcome back, Alon. It's good to see you."

Alon carried on blinking in the same chaotic manner. He was not looking at Paul, just looking into space. His left arm and leg twitched a little. Paul was not disappointed; this was a very big step.

Stella appeared, with another doctor whom Paul had not seen before, and a whole crowd of other medics. He was again almost pushed aside, but this time he wedged himself in at the head of Alon's bed as soon as they turned off the field, and held the little boy's hand while the team worked.

"Paul?" asked Stella when they were finished.

"Yes?" replied Paul excitedly. He was expecting good news, but he frowned when the look on Stella's face indicated the opposite.

"Alon is recovering well from the pneumonia. He still needs the tube in, but it seems that the drugs we gave him are working."

"Thank God," said Paul. But Stella's face told him there was a 'but', and he stared at her.

Stella sighed. "Alon is showing signs of brain damage. He is uncommunicative-"
"Well he can't talk with a tube in his throat!" said Paul, interrupting.

"He does not follow simple instructions. He does not seem to understand. He has some paralysis down his left side. He has loss of muscle tone and motor control. His eyes don't focus."
"Hang on," said Paul. He put his hand into his jacket pocket, hanging on the back of one of the chairs. He pulled out Alon's glasses, and wiped them with his sleeve. He went over to Alon and placed them carefully on his face.

Stella approached Alon and held out her pen, performing a focus test on Alon's eyes. She looked over at Paul and shook her head. "No effect," she said, sadly.

"So what now?" asked Paul.

"Well, his lungs are recovering, so eventually, if he can start to breathe on his own, we can take out the tube."
"So he could go home?"

"He would require 24 hour care, Paul."
"I could hire nurses."
"That would be an option."
The two sat in silence for some minutes.

"This is going to be long term?" asked Paul.

"I would say so, yes."
"In this day and age, we cannot cure a simple bump on the head?" Paul sounded upset.

"It was a lot more than that, Paul. And we are doing everything we can. As soon as possible, we will send a physiotherapist and occupational therapist to work with you and Alon."
"Okay. And then I can take him home?"
"He won't be able to go home for a few months yet."
"I don't mean to my house, I mean back to Montreal."
"I will consult with the rest of the team that is caring for Alon, but he cannot travel just yet. I would prefer to wait until he has been extubated."

"Right. But that will be soon?"
"At his current rate of recovery, a week or so, but it is difficult to be precise."
"I can start making arrangements?"
"Yes. I will also do the same this end, okay?" Stella put her hand on Paul's shoulder, and he smiled. She went to leave, but turned to him just before. "The sterile field is off now; you can sit next to him as long as you like."

Paul smiled again. He took out one of the books and sat down as Stella walked out. He looked over at Alon's cold, unresponsive eyes, but his heart warmed. For the first time in what seemed like forever, Alon was wearing his glasses again, and Paul was looking down at the little boy he knew.

Alon was indeed extubated a week later, but still had an oxygen requirement. His physical state was otherwise unchanged. He still required IV drugs, so as Paul and the hospital were arranging transfer to Montreal, they had to have him accompanied by a team of nurses and a doctor. He was to be flown into Dorval by helijet, and transferred to L'Hopital de Montreal pour Enfants. Paul would accompany him all the way. However, his new found hope was ebbing away, as Alon failed to make much progress at all.

On the day of the transfer, Matthew and Adrian came to see Alon again. Adrian talked to Alon, and tried to get him to respond, and read to Alon while Paul and Matthew talked.

"Adrian and I are headed for Churchill in six days."
"Churchill?"
"I've got some work to do up there."
"You're not leaving Adrian with your friends?"
"Not anymore. I think he's old enough now to come with me. He could learn a lot, too. And my friends have decided to go permanently to Florida. There's not much left of the house."
"I suppose so."

Paul looked at the ground.
"You know, Churchill isn't so far from Montreal," said Matthew.

Paul shed a tear. "Thanks, man."

Matthew put his arm around his shoulders. "Any time, buddy. Any time."
Paul rallied. "Hey, they have phones up there in the middle of nowhere?"

"Yeah! And indoor plumbing, too!" joked Matthew.

The joked around for a couple of hours, which raised Paul's spirits, until Adrian and Matthew had to leave.

"Come on, son. Alon and Paul have to get packed up."
"We'll see you in Canada, Alon!" said Adrian. "You can come and play with the dogs in the snow!"

Paul sighed; Adrian really believed that would happen. He and Matthew shook hands. Then they left.

Paul sat down for a few minutes, looking at Alon from across the room. Then he began to pack. He realised then how much of a home this place had become. There was all of Paul's things from camp, all of Alon's things; books, clothes, papers, trinkets, ornaments, endless paper coffee cups, everything. He packed up a few things and disposed of a great deal of rubbish.

Stella came in. "I just wanted to say goodbye, and wish you well."
"Thank you," said Paul.

Stella seemed uncomfortable. "You know," she fumbled, "everything I did, I did from a medical position, with Alon's best interests at heart."

"I know," said Paul, and looked at her kindly. "I am sorry that I have not been myself. I could never have imagined this kind of pressure."
"I wish you and Alon all the happiness in the world, Paul, and I know you'll do the very best for him."

Paul nodded, and fought back the tears. He and Stella hugged, and without further words, she left.

The Medevac team arrived to prepare Alon for transportation. They changed him from his gown into a pair of pyjamas. He did not react at all. While they were doing this they found the siddur tucked under his hand. One of the nurses handed it to Paul.

"Can't he keep it?" asked Paul.

"Well, he shouldn't really-"
"Don't you let kids keep a cuddly toy or something when they fly?"

"I suppose so," said the nurse. "But keep an eye on it."

"Of course," said Paul.

Two helijet medical crew arrived with a yellow trolley to take Alon on. He was lifted, covered with blankets and strapped in, with his siddur under his hand. They hung his IVs on a stand, and put him on bottled oxygen. Paul picked up his bags and followed as the crew headed for the roof, and the waiting helijet. They were loaded on, and Paul sat in a seat by Alon's head. As they took off, he starting talking to Alon about the workings of the helijet. But they had not been in the air for ten minutes when Alon's eyes closed.

"What's wrong with him?" said Paul, panicked.

"Don't worry," soothed the doctor. "He's asleep."

Paul breathed relief. He was glad Alon was sleeping. That, at least, was normal.