Chapter 51: Let's Not Tell Mom
February 1
When Alex entered Amelia's room to check on Gwendolyn, Amelia was asleep. Since he was simply checking in and reviewing basic data, he decided to proceed without waking her up. Flipping his stethoscope around and placing it in his ears, Alex listened to Gwen's lungs and heart. He checked her reflexes and palpated her little belly. Flipping her over onto her tummy, he examined her back and pressed near her surgical area. Once he was done poking and prodding, he picked her up and walked with her in his arms. She had tolerated the exam without much fuss, but he didn't want to step out and have her begin showing agitation while Amelia was resting.
Alex stepped around the room lightly jostling the little girl he had saved at birth as he gazed out the window. He imagined what the Shepherd-Hunt family's life had become in just one year. From a giddy, starry-eyed couple to a family of seven, the family had certainly experienced tremendous transition. Alex heard stirring from the bed across the room and he glanced over to see Amelia moving herself into a fetal position as if she was uncomfortable. Her arms were shaking as she curled up. With Gwen in hand, Alex walked to the doorway and called out to a nearby nurse to page Robbins STAT.
Reentering the room, Alex set Gwendolyn down in the isolate with her sister. He was listening to Amelia's heart as both Webber and Robbins burst in the room. "What's up, Karev?" Arizona asked.
Alex explained how he'd been walking with Gwendolyn and noticed Amelia's shaking and pain responses. "I just began to listen to her heart and to assess when you walked in. What's going on with her?"
Arizona approached Amelia's bedside and mumbled to Alex, one of the residents gave her Demerol for pain this morning. Very little was dispensed before it was pulled, but she might be reacting to it, nonetheless. After a brief examination, Arizona leaned down to Amelia and attempted to wake her up.
"Ooohhhh," Amelia groaned, "I'm hurting."
"Where, Amelia? Where do you hurt?" Arizona asked.
"Just give me something. Oh God, it's all over. I'm tight, crampy, and achy. My head is pounding. What the hell is happening now, Arizona?" Amelia moaned.
Karev mumbled, "Should I order clonidine?"
Shaking her head, Arizona corrected, "Let's try labetalol – low initial dose."
Amelia grabbed Alex's hand, "Why am I hurting? What's wrong?" Arizona caught Karev's eye tentatively.
"We're figuring that out, Amelia. Robbins, Webber, and I are all here. We're working on it," Alex assured.
Amelia maintained a tight grip on Alex's hand as she asked, "Where's Owen? Where's my husband? I want him here."
"We'll page him, Amelia," Webber reassured her as he stepped out to order the page. Before Richard could make it back into the room, a nurse stopped him to ask about another case and then the nurse at the desk told him Hunt was on the phone for him.
"Richard, what the hell is going on now?" Owen barked. "I'm on my way. What's going on with Amelia?"
Knowing that Owen was already aware of the med mix up, Richard quietly shared, "I think the Demerol is wearing off and she's reacting slightly. Robbins and Karev are with her. She'll be fine, but she's asking for you."
"Reacting slightly?! How does a recovering addict react slightly to a harmful medication wearing off? I'm about ready to move her to another hospital, and I'm GSMH's most enthusiastic advocate. What the hell is happening, Richard?" Owen stormed.
"Owen," Webber stated with calm serenity, "let's take this one step at a time. It is not going to help Amelia at all if you go into her room stewing and steaming. I'll be here in the hall when you get here."
A few minutes later, Owen walked right by Richard, glared, and entered Amelia's room. He walked directly over to her bed and sat in the chair Derek had left there earlier, "Hey…"
Groggy but hurting less, Amelia responded with her eyes half-open, "Where were you? I was hurting."
"Derek and I took the girls back to daycare and then went to have coffee. I'm sorry I wasn't here," Owen apologized as he stroked her hair.
"It's ok," Amelia mumbled as she dozed in and out. After a slight pause, she added, "It was bad, Owen. Find out what happened, ok?" Owen nodded as she fell asleep holding his hand.
Quietly but intensely, Owen growled, "What happened? I want the full run down, not just highlights."
Alex began with his summary, then Arizona piped in with a review of the treatment she just offered.
"Is she going to wake up craving meds?" Owen asked as he looked at Richard.
"Time will tell. Likely not, given the low dosage. I'd suggest we not mention the details to her and address it if and when questions arise," Richard advised even though following his orders meant withholding information from a patient.
"I'm not sure I agree, but I'll consider that option," Owen grumbled. "Could I have the room please?"
Everyone cleared out reluctantly, wishing the day could begin again.
February 2nd
Owen had intended to pick Oliver up after school and take him to visit Amelia at the hospital. When Owen drove up to the carpool line, Oliver's teacher approached the car and asked if Owen had a moment to meet with her. Confused but willing, Owen agreed and walked toward Oliver's classroom to find an anxious eight-year-old staring down at the floor. Shifting his glance between Oliver and the teacher, Owen simply said hello and sat down at an empty desk between the two.
"Mr. Hunt," the teacher began, "would you like to explain what happened here at school today?"
Oliver looked down on the floor and twisted his feet around one another under the desk. His lips were pressed together as he moved them around side-to-side, and he wrung his hands on his lap.
"Excuse me, Mr. Hunt," the teacher said sternly, "I asked you a question." While Owen and Amelia were impressed with the school's academics, there were times when they wondered if the behavior expectations were helpful or excessively firm.
"Yes, ma'am," Oliver responded without raising his head.
Owen couldn't help but intervene, "Hey, Ollie, what's up buddy? Let's work this out."
Looking up at Owen, Oliver's face confessed what his words had not. With a black eye on one side and a fat lip, some scrapes and red marks on the other, Oliver obviously had quite the adventurous day. Owen grimaced and looked at Oliver with softened eyes and anticipation.
Oliver sputtered, "Umm…I kind of got in a fight at recess this morning."
"I can see that," Owen responded flatly.
"Would you care to explain how the fight came about?" Oliver's teacher asked. Both Oliver and Owen felt like screaming at her to leave them alone. Owen, facing toward Oliver and away from the teacher, mouthed, It's ok.
"Sam, this boy in my class, he said my mom was dead and that my new mom didn't even care about me anymore," Oliver shared.
"That must have hurt," Owen responded even though he had the sense the teacher wanted him to express anger at Oliver's response. Oliver nodded slowly, then looked at his teacher.
"Dr. Hunt, as you know, we do not tolerate violence of any kind here," the teacher explained. Owen turned to look at the teacher and nodded. "In speaking with the principal, a decision has been made to give Oliver a two-day in-school suspension and to expect him to write a letter of apology to Sam."
"Really?" Owen said without much emotion. "Hey, Ollie, how about if you wait for me in the hallway for just a minute." Oliver nervously looked at his teacher, unsure who was the ultimate authority in the moment. She nodded her head and he left the room.
"I'm wondering if you can help me understand the situation more fully," Owen requested with a faked sense of curiosity.
"Certainly, Dr. Hunt. Do you have a specific question?" the teacher inquired.
"Actually, yes. What is Sam's consequence?" Owen inquired.
The teacher paused and looked at Owen, sharing, "I cannot release that information, Dr. Hunt. That's information between the school and Sam's family."
"Oh," Owen nodded thoughtfully. "Who has advised you not to release the information?"
"Sorry?" the teacher asked.
"The principal? Is that who I should speak to if I'm not satisfied with your response?" Owen asked without any hint of the frustration and intensity he was feeling.
"I'd be happy to sort out anything I can, Dr. Hunt," the teacher stalled.
Owen wrinkled his brows, grinned professionally, and stood up as he extended his hand, "You've already made it clear you're unable to release the information I need. Do you know if the principal is still on site?"
"I'll walk down to the office with you," the teacher smiled uneasily.
As the two left the room, Owen put his hand out for Oliver, "Hey, buddy, come with us." Oliver stood up and grasped Owen's hand firmly, confident that his dad was going to protect him one way or the other. The teacher nervously shifted her grin back and forth from her destination and Oliver.
The trio entered the office and the Principal's administrative assistant buzzed the Principal's office when she saw them. "She'll be right with you," the assistant offered.
The Principal came out and re-introduced herself to Owen, then welcomed Owen and the teacher to join her in her office. She instructed Oliver to sit on the bench outside her office. Owen shook his head, maintained his grip and declared firmly but calmly, "No, he'll be joining us."
The Principal paused but then responded, "Of course." The four sat down and Owen shared his understanding of the situation along with his unanswered question. With Oliver present, everyone had to choose their words more intentionally and carefully.
The principal shared that she did not feel that it was appropriate to share details about Sam, and Owen, in his best angry yet measured Chief of Staff voice, responded that he did not feel it was appropriate to accept Oliver's consequences without a better understanding of the whole situation. He concluded, "As you know, I'm a trauma surgeon. Imagine if I were to order a surgery on a broken ankle without checking for internal bleeding. Let me explain," he continued with just a slight hint of arrogance, "if the patient's ankle was operated on while the abdominal cavity was pooling with blood, the patient would die. The source of the issue – the core concern – was not the broken ankle. It was the internal bleeding. From what I can gather, my son is the broken ankle in this metaphor. Do you follow?"
The Principal simply said, "Yes, I do."
"Then answer this: are you also addressing the core concern? I don't need details, I just need to know if the core concern is also being handled appropriately," Owen insisted.
Trying to save herself, the principal requested, "Can you explain to me what you would define as the core concern?"
Playing dumb, Owen scratched his head and asked, "Ollie, what was it Sam said to you?"
Oliver, who had come to sense that Owen was having the calmest, knockdown, drag out fight ever, responded factually, "He said my mom was dead and that my new mom didn't even care about me anymore."
Owen pursed his lips, nodded, and patted Oliver's shoulder. "Thanks for sharing that again, bud. Can you go wait for me on the bench by the door for just a minute?" Oliver nodded and stepped out.
Standing, Owen folded his arms and paced the office, saying, "Those words. That would be the source of your bleed. I'm not saying Oliver made an ideal choice in his reaction, not at all. However, I refuse to support your decision if you are allowing the other child to provoke him with hurtful words. Oh! And I'd also like to know why my son was injured in the morning and I was not contacted. I find that deeply concerning." Owen paused and concluded, "I'm happy to leave you to consider your decision and what you are willing to share. Perhaps you can determine that and get back to me by tomorrow morning." Then Owen nodded, grinned, and stepped out of the room leaving a stunned administrator and teacher behind.
Owen stepped out the door to the Principal's office, put his hand out for Oliver and declared, "Let's go, bud." Oliver said nothing on the way to the car and buckled himself in without a word. He was unsure if he was still in trouble at school and he was also unsure if he would be in trouble at home. Half the drive to the hospital was silent.
At the halfway point, Owen asked, "Ollie, is there more to the story that I should know?"
"No," Oliver stated honestly.
"Sam started it? You didn't say anything to him first?"
"Dad, Sam walked up to me and just said it for no reason except because he's a jerk. Joe and Julia and me were playing on the bars and Sam just came up and said that to me, then I jumped down from the bars and said, 'What did you just say?' and then he said it again so I punched him in the gut, kicked him where it counts, and punched his nose," Oliver reported.
Owen, somewhat impressed by his little scamp and somewhat frustrated by the entire situation, offered with a large sigh, "Oliver. I'm sorry he said that to you and I'm sorry that kid is such a punk. None of what he did was ok, but that doesn't give you the right to hurt someone. Even if the idiot deserves it, you simply cannot respond by kicking and punching people. Do you understand that?"
"But, Dad, he was super mean and he's a troublemaker," Oliver retorted.
"How did I talk to the teacher and the principal? Did I punch them? Or even scream?" Owen asked.
"I saw and no, you didn't," Oliver admitted. "But I think they still knew you were mad."
"Me too. That's my point, Ollie. It's really hard to learn and I've messed it up a lot, but keeping your cool almost always works better," Owen advised. "Let's not tell Mommy the whole story today, ok? Let's just go have a good visit."
"Sounds good, Dad," Oliver agreed.