Chapter Twenty-Five

Trapper had just walked into his office and set his briefcase on his desk when a page came over the hospital PA system. "Dr. McIntyre to ICU. Dr. McIntyre to ICU." Quickly slipping off his jacket, he grabbed his hospital coat and rushed out the door.

As he hurried into ICU, a nurse came out of the room. "Doctor, his breathing is labored and his blood oxygen levels have dropped significantly."

"How long has this been going on?" asked Trapper as he moved the earpieces of his stethoscope to his ears and leaned over Marcus to listen to his chest.

"About ten minutes. We were about to start paging Dr. Gates."

"Mike, Marcus' lung has collapsed, and he's not getting enough oxygen with just the other lung. Nurse, get a ventilator in here along with a tube package." Turning back to Mike, Trapper put an arm around his shoulder and guided him out of Marcus' room. "I'm going to intubate him. That means he'll have a breathing tube down his throat that will be attached to a machine to help him breath. It will re-inflate the collapsed lung. We'll leave it in for a few days to allow the lung tissue to heal more completely before we take it out, and before we take it out, we'll lower the assistance he'll be getting from the machine to make sure he's breathing easily on his own. I need you to stay out here while we do this. Once it's in, you can come back in. A respiratory therapist will be assigned to him to answer any questions you have about the machine and breathing apparatus and to monitor him. She'll make sure the machine stays on the correct settings, and she'll make sure the tube itself is clear." Trapper met the man's fearful eyes. "Mike, this isn't completely unexpected, and it in no way changes his prognosis." Once he got a nod from Marcus' father, he followed the nurse pushing the machine into the room, going straight to the sink to wash his hands and arms. "Gloves. All right, pull the bed out so I can get behind it, and get him flat. Get me a laryngoscope with a number two Miller blade. Now tilt his head back…and here we go. There's the epiglottis. Tube. That went in easy. Now the cuff." Straightening up, Trapper withdrew the laryngoscope. "Alright, let's see how we did." Stepping back to the side of the bed, Trapper listened to both sides of the boy's chest and his abdomen. "Music to the ears," said Trapper, smiling. "Set the ventilator at fifty percent and call me with his O2 levels in fifteen minutes. And call respiratory therapy and get someone assigned."

Peeling off his gloves, Trapper stepped out of Marcus' room. "Mike, you can go in just as soon as the nurses get everything cleared out. A respiratory therapist will be up shortly to answer any questions you have."

"Thank you, Dr. McIntyre."

Squeezing Mike's shoulder, Trapper smiled. "You're welcome."

"Tell me about your first two days at home," Dr. Sandler said, writing something on his notepad.

"I haven't said anything. What are you writing?"

"The question," he answered ingenuously.

Leah chuckled. "All right then. Let's see…it was quiet. I got some work done." Turning away, she tried to hide her oncoming tears. "Uh…can we reschedule for another day?" she asked quietly.

"It's alright to say it was too quiet. After all, you've been in this place for weeks…and it's not usually that quiet here. What did you do at home before your surgery?"

"I ate, I bathed, I played my guitar, and I read…a little. I watched people, and I went for long walks." She looked beyond him and smiled, picturing her last visit to Leo in her mind. "I ate lots of fresh crab." Snapping back from her reverie, she said, "But I wasn't there but a few hours out of the day."

"Oh? Where were you?"

"Here. In my office."

"In the basement. In the dark." No answer. "No one's come to see you?"

"No."

"Is that what you want?" Again she was silent. "Leah, I'm not here to tell you what you should and shouldn't want or do. My job is to help you find what you want…what will make you happy. Can you tell me the last time you felt happy? And if not happy, I'll settle for good. Okay, you've stopped talking to me altogether. Don't think you're leaving early. I can ask questions the entire hour. And I promise you, you will go home and think about them, so it's not a waste of my time." She shook her head slightly, and then rubbed her temple with her fingers. "When was the last time you enjoyed something without thinking about John and the children?"

"Dinner…with Dr. McIntyre the night of the bus accident."

"And before that?"

Her eyes slowly drifted off to the side. "Pescadero," she said barely above a whisper.

"Why?"

"I suppose it was pleasant enough that I just didn't think of them for awhile."

"Now that you've said it, how does that make you feel?"

"Contrary to what you might think, I don't think of my children and my husband every minute of every day. That's one reason I work so much. So I don't dwell on it."

"Why don't you invite some of your friends over to your apartment for dinner?"

"I don't have any friends, Dr. Sandler. I have acquaintances. And certainly none that I'd feel comfortable inviting to my apartment."

"Because you're the Mushroom Queen."

She raised her head and looked straight at him. "Ice Queen suits me better," she said angrily and looked away.

"Why children?"

"I miss being able to comfort my own children…to make them laugh…to make them feel…" she choked a sob back. "I suppose I feel like the ultimate failure. I always prided myself in being a good mother. I didn't over-indulge them, I made them brush their teeth twice a day, I made them wear sunscreen outside, I made them eat their vegetables. And we had fun doing all those things. But I couldn't keep them safe." Taking a deep breath, she pulled a tissue out of the box on the table next to her and wiped her eyes. "I suppose you're going to tell me I shouldn't take an interest in other people's children."

"I don't see anything wrong with it."

"You…you don't?"

"You know, all those parents are lucky someone's willing to spend time with their children when they can't. And as long as you know the difference…that they're someone else's children, why not?"

"Then why am I here?"

"Leah, it's not the loss of your children you need to learn to deal with. You're doing that. But you haven't even begun to deal with the loss of John. Well, you have, at least you think you have…or maybe you don't know you have."

"Stop. What are you talking about?"

"Did you and John have friends?"

"Of course we did."

"Why do you suppose you don't have adult friends now?"

"Our friends didn't know how to handle what happened. They had no idea what to say, and it had been such a long time since they tried…because I was in the hospital for so long, I guess they just stopped trying. Anyway, I didn't go back to the house. I didn't go back to the lake house. I found work elsewhere, and I only stayed in one place long enough to get a job done, and then I'd go somewhere else. And it would have been the same here if McIntyre hadn't found my pills on my desk."

"Are you angry with him for that?"

"Yes. No." She bowed her head. "I was. I'm not mad at him anymore."

"Do you consider John a friend?"

"I don't know. He must not think of me that way. After all, he didn't say goodbye when I left, and he hasn't called to ask how I am. He kept me grounded while I was here. He was just doing his job."

"Do you really think that?"

"Dr. Sandler, I'm a very logical person. I have to be because of what I do. Why don't you just say what you're thinking instead of beating around the bush?"

"All right. What are you going to do when you're faced with romantic feelings from another man when you're still dealing with feelings for your husband?"

Smiling, she answered, "My husband is dead. I can't feel his lips on mine. I can't feel his hands on my skin. I can't feel him making love to me." Tears welled in her eyes, and she whispered, "I can barely remember his voice."

"I don't believe that. When you go to bed at night, you can't sleep because you still feel him. You don't want to stop feeling him. What you want is someone to make you feel again. Only when everything is said and done, you'll feel guilty…like you cheated on John. So you don't risk it."

"Dr. Sandler, you underestimate me. I know perfectly well I can't cheat on a dead man."

Pointing to his head, Dr. Sandler said, "You know that here. But do you know that there?" he said, pointing to her heart.

She glanced up at him angrily, and then looked away, trying to calm the conflicting voices in her head. Reaching down beside her, she picked up her purse and stood, and without looking back, she left his office.