Chapter 25
Chapter Text
There was so much medical equipment in the room that Alan and Don at first failed to notice the young scrubbed attired woman seated behind the multiple monitors and equipment laden carts.
To Don the woman looked all of twenty.
An anxious look flashed across Alan's face when he too observed the staff member.
"Looks can be deceiving." Don whispered to his father.
"I sure as hell hope so." Alan answered in a not so low voice
The woman, trained to pinpoint the lowest whisper of a sound, smiled as she continued monitoring the ECMO system.
There seemed to be yards of crimson hued tubing. Don tried like hell not to dwell on the fact that the tubing was actually a neutral color and that its current red tint was due to Charlie's circulating blood.
Alan wanted to look past all the medical devices and simply focus on his son. It just was not possible.
He wound up gripping the raised bedrail with both hands for added support.
"We are a little tight for room." Jada Keaton said to the two drawn looking men. She remained seated in front of the monitors to give them some needed space.
Jada watched as Alan Eppes (Dr. Carson had described to her Charlie's family members to a "T") carefully leaned over the bed rail and kissed his son's forehead.
Jada wished that it were possible to give the two men private time with their loved one, but her role prohibited that from happening: she was required to be at Charlie's bedside. Due to the sensitive nature of the ECMO device Jada could only be relieved by an equally trained staff member.
She overheard Don Eppes (who Jada could not help but notice sported a close cropped hairstyle as opposed to his wild maned sibling) address her newest assignment.
"Charlie, Dad and I are here. You are not alone, buddy." Don said as his eyes scanned every inch (minus what the ventilation device covered) of his brother's expressionless face.
Despite being informed that it could not happen, Don hoped that he might see some sort of a reaction; no matter how faint.
Charlie, however, remained unresponsive and motionless.
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The lowest career moments for Jada occurred when she supervised a critically ill patient who unfortunately never received a single visitor: not a family member, friend, or well-meaning co-worker.
The ICU nurse was grateful that it appeared that Charlie Eppes had two loving and supportive family members.
Jada felt a pair of eyes on her and looked past the monitors and saw that Alan Eppes was headed in her direction. She stood up and braced herself for whatever might be coming her way. It was not unusual for her to bear the brunt of a family member's fear and anger.
Alan stopped in front of the tall, dark-haired, staff member and offered his hand.
"Alan Eppes," he firmly stated. "Charlie's father."
"Jada Keaton," the specialist replied as she took Alan's hand in hers and gently shook it. "Charlie's ICU nurse/ECMO Specialist."
He looked over his shoulders and noted Don conducting a one-sided conversation. A saddened Alan refocused on Jada.
The fear Alan Eppes was valiantly trying to keep contained was all too evident in the older man's eyes.
"Is my son in any pain?" Alan inquired in a lower tone.
"No Sir," Jada quickly replied.
"Is there any chance that he could possibly be at some point?"
"No Sir," Jada responded.
"Please, sir, is not necessary. Alan is fine." He attempted to smile but was not sure he had been all that successful.
"I will take exceptional care of your son Mr. Eppes." Jada stated. She wanted to tell the worn-out looking man to please make use of the family room and rest for an hour or so, however, she highly doubted that Alan Eppes would even consider the suggestion.
"I hope my questions did not offend you in any way, Ms. Keaton. I just needed to hear your answers." Alan responded earnestly.
"I understand Mr. Eppes. Believe me, you are not the first parent who felt the need to ask me those two questions." Jade replied honestly. "And please, call me Jada."
Alan nodded his head in silent agreement.
"I met Dr. Carson, the ECMO doctor. She said that along with Andrew Cosmos my son's core team would also consist of a consultant/primer, an ICU nurse/Specialist (he managed a smile when Jada raised her hand) one assigned to the morning and another at night, a perfusionist, a physiotherapist, and a respiratory therapist (Alan had hoped Akan would remain with Charlie, but the man was not ECMO certified).
"When you meet the remainder of Charlie's team, Mr. Eppes, you are going to find that they are all highly skilled and extraordinarily caring individuals and together, we are going to take very good care of your son." Jada answered with obvious pride.
"Thank you." Alan quietly responded. It's…" He glanced at all the monitors.
"A lot to take in." Jada said soothingly. "Any doubts or concerns, you may have, please feel free to bring them to me or Dr. Carson or any other member of the treatment team. We are here to help both you and…" She looked over the older man's shoulder.
"Don." Alan replied. "Charlie's older brother."
"Please do not feel that you have to hide behind all this" (Alan waved his hand at the equipment).
"Thank you, but I prefer to make myself as inconspicuous as possible whenever a family member arrives." Jada explained.
She took notice that Don Eppes was heading in her direction.
"It was nice meeting you Jada." Alan said. He gave Don's arm a light touch before he turned and made his way toward the bed.
Don tracked his father's movements before turning all his attention on the woman whose presence he noted moments after he had entered the room.
"Don Eppes." Don stated formally. "Charlie's older brother." He held out his hand.
"Jada Keaton: Charlie's ICU nurse and ECMO specialist." Jada answered. She noted how controlled the man's grip was; it was firm but minus the macho heavy-handedness she at times encountered.
"Dr. Carson informed my father and I that Charlie will have 24 hours coverage." Don stated. He took a quick glance back in his father's direction.
"Your brother, as I explained to your father, has an exceptional team looking out for him."
"I'm counting on that." Don stated as a matter-of-fact. He hoped hearing the nurses' assessment had helped assuage his father's rising fears.
Jada had heard the man standing in front of her labeled as: standoffish and quick-tempered. She was not picking up an aloof vibe. The Don Eppes, standing in front of her appeared to be approachable, willing to listen, and deeply concerned for the well-being of his younger brother and that of his father as well. Jada would have to wait and watch on his supposed quick-temper.
"If you ever have any questions, please feel free to…"
"I am listed as Decisionmaker on my brother's Directive." Don softly revealed only after taking a stealth glance in his father's direction.
"I am aware of that fact and so are the other members of your brother's treatment team." Jada said, hoping to alleviate at least one of the man's worries.
Don reached for his wallet, pulled out a printed card, and handed the item over to Jada.
Jada took the small card, noted the raised FBI insignia, and placed it in the pocket of her lab coat.
"My cell phone is constantly on." Don stressed strongly.
Jada nodded her head in acknowledgement.
Alan unexpectantly appeared at Don's side.
The sudden quiet that settled between the Specialist and his son had Alan instantly wondering what had just transpired between the two.
"I am staying here for the remainder of the day." Alan made sure both Jada and Don understood that he was not making a request.
"Mr. Eppes, (she was not comfortable calling the older man by his given name) this is a private patient care room. You are more than welcome to stay with Charlie. The only time you will be requested to leave is during a shift change, a procedure, or an emergency."
Don and Alan looked uneasy after Jada uttered the word "emergency."
"However, if you feel a need for an extended break or if you plan to spend the night; there is, as I mentioned an adjacent family room that is furnished specifically for that purpose.
"Dad, I don't know if sleeping here every night is something you should be considering. You should go home tonight. I'll stay. Tomorrow we can each start taking a night and…" The thoroughly displeased look that Don received from his father had him going radio silent.
Jada sensed now would be a good time to sit back down and stay out of the father/son discussion.
For the time being; Don would let his father have his way. Now, was not the time to get into it with his tightly wound father.
He already missed Isabella and Rowan; together the two nurses managed to take first-class care of Charlie while also looking look out for Alan. Isabella and Rowan made sure that Alan stayed hydrated and rested despite his father's protests that he could take care of himself.
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Within 20 minutes of meeting Jada Keaton; Don and Alan were also introduced to the ECMO Coordinator, Joel Jacobs. The man, who appeared to be a year or two older than Don, gave off no airs of superiority (unlike Andrew Cosmos), came off as very knowledgeable, and took the time to answer all of Alan's questions.
Don had several questions of his own, but they all went unspoken. It was like his brain and his heart had declared war on each other.
Normally, Don did not operate on emotions; that was Charlie's forte.
He walked away from a conversation between Joel Jacobs and his father that centered on staying connected with Charlie using positive touch and hand holding.
Don carefully weaved his way around the monitors and tubing and returned to Charlie's side. He did not need to hear from yet another virtual stranger (Dr. Carson being the other) on ways in which he could stay connected with his heavily sedated brother.
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In hour, two; Don took refuge on the artsy type sofa/armchair combo on the far side of the room. It was not far enough, however, to escape the sights and sounds.
The anxiety he felt over his brother's never-ending stillness was bordering on overwhelming. Before, if Charlie fell asleep; Don heard an occasional snore, a whispered tidbit of whatever was rattling around in his brother's brain, a sigh here or there, or the slightest movement of an arm or leg (after the balloon removal).
Now, there was nothing.
No snores.
No whispered tidbits.
No sighing.
No movement.
Nothing.
It was as if the very essence that was Charlie had disappeared and every hour that crept by only highlighted the fact of how much Don wanted his lively animated brother back.
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A small pleasant-faced woman, who Alan figured to be in her mid-forties, walked into the room and introduced herself as Abigay Issa, the dietician clinician, in charge of Charlie's nutritional intake.
It took Alan a second or two before he was able to offer Abigay his hand.
Don offered the woman a small nod. It was that slight motion that told Alan his eldest son wanted no parts of a conversation that in any shape or form was like the one that took place during his mother's final days (during which Don had all but held Alan up).
Alan quietly told his upset looking son, "to go for a walk." He had to reassure Don several times that he would be okay before his son started to move.
At the door, Don took a long look at his younger brother; never imagining that the simple act of leaving Charlie behind in a room would fill him with so much apprehension.
He wanted to believe that everything was going to go as planned, except Don could not escape the fact that Charlie always preached about variables and how they had to be considered before making a conclusion.
There were variables that Don just could not/would not consider at this juncture.
"Go." Alan said to his rooted son.
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Once on the other side of the door; Don quickly headed for the double doors that took him out of the ICU ward. He needed to escape.
Moving on autopilot; Don turned left instead of right and discovered an outdoor patio at the end of a lightly traveled hallway. He walked to the far end of the patio and placed several calls and brought everyone who cared about Charlie up-to-speed. Don did his best to reassure every shocked individual he spoke with. He promised Amita, Larry, David, Meghan, and Colby that he would try and get permission for them to come in and sit with Charlie.
He alerted his Director that he would be requesting an emergency family leave. It's ending point, Don volunteered, would have to remain open for the present time.
After completing his last call; Don did not return to Charlie's room; instead he walked over and sat down on a wooden bench. He placed his back against a smooth wall and tried like hell not to feel guilty about not heading back to be with Charlie.
Don never thought in a million years that Charlie would be facing a life and death situation; Don always assumed with his career and all its inherit risks; he would be the one lying deathly still in a hospital bed.
He drew into his lungs all the non-hospital filtered air they could hold, raised his chin, and let the sun warm his face.
It was a picture-perfect California day. A hiking kind of day for Charlie.
Since moving back; Don had only gone on a handful of hikes with Charlie. He simply did not share Charlie's enthusiasm for walking from point A to point B and then back to point A (while Charlie pointed out the various types fauna and flora they passed); whereas on a good long run (which Don enjoyed) he never had to fake interest in tree groupings or flower patterns.
On their last hike together, along a rocky terrain, Don came to a two-part realization; hiking bored the hell out of him (too damn slow) and his brother was part human/part mountain goat.
Don pushed away from the coolness of the wall and focused on the activity going on in a nearby parking complex; hoping to silence his thoughts.
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Isabella stood a few feet from the bench. She debated how to get Don Eppes' attention without causing him any unnecessary alarm.
Isabella moved so that he would detect her in his peripheral vision.
Don noticed movement.
Isabella motioned for him to remain seated. Don theorized that if she wanted him to remain on the bench, then whatever it was she came out to tell him was not based on any kind of emergency that centered around Charlie. Nevertheless, Don's heart skipped a beat.
Isabella moved closer, but still gave Don some needed space.
"Charlie's numbers are holding." Isabella said quickly. The apprehension in Don's eyes all too apparent. "So much for not causing the man undue alarm," The nurse thought to herself.
"Isabella, will you still be taking care of Charlie?" Don inquired hopefully.
"No," Isabella answered. Her voice was full of regret.
Through the lightning fast grapevine, Isabella discovered that she had not been chosen to be part of Charlie's ECMO Team and that news hit Isabella hard. Upset, Isabella left the floor (for a much-needed break); with the feeling that she had been passed over due to her age (she was the oldest member of the nursing staff on the Cardiac Care floor at fifty-one).
She headed straight for Charlie's room.
"I already miss talking to him," Don uncharacteristically revealed an actual real-time emotion.
Isabella nodded. She very much missed her across-the-board discussions with Charlie (and his smile); after only having spent a few days in the company of the easy-going young man. Isabella could only imagine the void that Don Eppes must now feel.
"Your father was concerned that you might not come back." Isabella revealed.
Don focused on the parking structure again.
"The stillness… it's disconcerting… it's never been Charlie's thing." Don said never taking his eyes off the parking structure.
"I am not going to sit here and tell you that there will be a point where you will get past all the mechanics and be able to overlook the stillness because that would be a falsehood and I promised Charlie that I would always be forthright." Isabella volunteered with a sad smile.
"How the hell am I going to make it through four and half more days of this?" Don turned and questioned the woman now seated next to him.
"One hour at a time." Isabella answered honestly. "If you can't do an hour. Do thirty minutes. If you can't do thirty; do fifteen or ten. We all have our limits, Don. You're allowed to have your own too."
"In math; limits are well-supported predictions." Don addressed his now folded hands.
"Well then," Isabella said as she placed a hand on top of Don's clasped hands. "I predict that you will find a way to be there for Charlie just like you have since his admittance."
Isabella glanced at her watch; she had to get back to the unit, track down Andrew Cosmos, give him a good kick in the ass, and then a piece of her mind.
"I have to go too." Don said. "I have about an hour's worth of stories that I need to share with Charlie." He stood up, smiled at Isabella and offered the woman his hand.
Isabella willingly accepted the younger man's hand. She might be old (at least in Dr. Cosmo or Dr. Carsons' eyes) but she was not blind: Don Eppes was one good-looking man.
Upon standing she was somewhat stunned when Don gave her a quick hug (considering how a smirking Charlie once told her that his older brother was the founding member of the anti-hugging movement).
Isabella also received a heartfelt thank you.
They left the patio together (with Don Eppes standing off to the side as the automated doors opened; allowing Isabella to exit first), walked to a nearby elevator, where Charlie's brother watched as she entered the elevator.
Isabella called out a reminder: "One hour" as the elevator doors slide shut.
The nurse was certain that she had heard the young man repeat her directive.
As the elevator began to rise; Isabella sent out a silent prayer for the Eppes family.