Chapter 3: Is It Really True?
The sun peeked over the horizon, checking to see if it was time for sunrise. The thick cloud cover had cleared during the night, revealing a vast, cerulean sky. A daisy hue lined the horizon, signaling the coming of the day. Larks chirped to their usual chorus. Nearly the entirety of Adventure Bay was visible: The Lookout prominently stood above the conglomerate of noticeably shorter structures composing the city center. The hospital had a great view from the patient rooms, as it was situated at the edge of the Biscuit Mountain Range. Being close to Adventure Bay as well as Jake's Mountain, Bark Bark Medical Center was the go-to facility for pup emergencies.
Inside one of the rooms, one pup was stirring. Two tan eyelids retracted, revealing a pair of sparkling amber eyes. The eyes looked around the room, then observed the scenic view outside.
"Wow, I never knew that the hospital had such a great view of Adventure Bay," thought Chase, "although I did know that they have a generous visitor policy. I don't know if I would sleep well without Marshall around." He then turned his attention to the group of pups sleeping around Marshall's hospital bed. Wrought in habit, Chase decided to wake up the other pups, as usual, with his megaphone.
"Ruff, Megaphone!" Chase barked. "TIME TO WAKE UP PUPS!"
The pups awoke, groaning with displeasure.
"Do you really have to do that in here?" Rocky complained.
"Sorry, I was just used to waking up you pups," Chase explained.
A nurse entered the room with a stern expression on his face. "You can't use that megaphone in here. You are going to disturb the patients."
"Got it, I won't do that again," Chase replied nervously.
The nurse proceeded to check hourly vitals on Marshall. Upon doing so, he noticed the dally beginning to stir.
"Marshall, can you open your eyes? Marshall, wake up," the nurse instructed.
The dally opened his eyes as he reentered reality. He was still a bit groggy from the surgery, but the pups were super excited.
"Marshall's awake!" exclaimed Skye, who proceeded to do a flip.
The pups gathered around Marshall's bed, tails wagging in excitement.
"Wait...I'm...a pup...again?" Marshall asked in a stupor.
"Marshall, you've always been a pup, you silly goose!" Everest exclaimed. After she realized what she just said, she hung her head in shame. Her comment was a bit out of line for someone just waking up from a brain injury.
"Sorry Marshall, I meant of course your a pup, an amazing one at that," Everest added.
"No, I mean, I'm not a monitor anymore, right?" Marshall moved his paws in front of his face, confirming that his dream wasn't real.
The pups stared at Marshall in confusion. "What do you mean a monitor?" asked Rocky.
"Umm..oh, it's nothing, I mean, yeah!" Marshall was a bit uncomfortable about sharing his dream and tried to avoid the question.
Before anyone could inquire further, a doctor came in to do an examination.
"We'll come back later to visit Marshall," Ryder announced. "Come on pups, let's go back to the Lookout."
"Marshall's awake and talking, he must be ok, right?" Skye questioned their leader as they exited the hospital.
"I don't know. He looked a bit tired today, but he only just woke up. We'll find out soon." Ryder replied, attempting to alleviate the pups' concerns.
Rocky was still puzzled by Marshall's behavior. "What kind of crazy dream did Marshall have while he was unconscious?" Rocky thought, trying to wrap his mind around it.
Later that day:
The sun had risen high above the clouds. Though overcast, the temperature was not cold. There was just a hint of coolness that enveloped Adventure Bay, but not to the point of needing a jacket. A light, ethereal breeze gently flowed from the crescent-shaped bay, a stark contrast from the blustery winds at Jake's Mountain. Ryder and the pups were approaching the front entrance of the hospital. Marshall's doctor had finished his exam and wanted to speak with Ryder. The pups insisted on coming with Ryder so they could visit Marshall while the humans had their talk. Upon arriving at the hospital, the pups headed for the west wing, where Marshall's room was, while Ryder checked in at the patient services desk. Ryder was actually quite nervous, fearing a negative prognosis from the doctor, but he did his best to conceal it to not worry the pups.
"You can wait in this room until the doctor comes," offered the assistant at the front desk. She directed Ryder to the family room. Inside, the room's walls were decorated with paw prints and chew toys. There was a comfortable leather couch with a mahogany coffee table as well as a rolling desk chair next to a computer desk. Ryder noticed a box of tissues on the coffee table, further exacerbating his worries. "Is this where they tell people their pups have died?" Ryder tried to put this thought out of his mind. Further examining the room, Ryder noticed some colorful artwork on the wall, presumably made by some of the pups in the hospital. Also, there was a shiny silver plaque on the wall adjacent to the door. Ryder walked over to the plaque, taking a closer look. It read: "Honoring the Puptacular Foundation: Deepest thanks from all the staff at Bark Bark Medical Center."
"Hmm, that's the organization that hosts the annual dog show." Ryder was interrupted by a knock on the door.
A man in his early forties entered the room. He was wearing dark blue scrubs and a stethoscope around his neck. He introduced himself:
"Hi, Ryder, my name is Dr. Cardenas, I'm one of the doctors here at the hospital. I'd like to give you an update on my examination of Marshall."
"Sure, I'd like to hear what is going on," Ryder replied nervously.
Both parties sat down with Dr. Cardenas taking the desk chair. He typed some information into the computer, and then he turned to face Ryder directly.
"Well, as the surgeons probably already told you, Marshall suffered a skull fracture and bleeding inside his brain. The surgeons were able to successfully drain the blood and relieve the excess pressure inside his skull. After the surgery, Marshall is responding well, which is a good sign. I am hopeful that Marshall will be able to recover well, but we will need keep him here for a few nights."
"That's great to hear doctor; now, you said there was something else?" inquired Ryder.
"After conducting a neurological exam, Marshall seems to have avoided any significant brain injury from the accident. He may still be a bit foggy, but that should improve over time. Also, after ruling out some other causes, I have a good idea of what may be causing Marshall's clumsiness. Normal falling and balance issues are common with developing pups, but in Marshall's case, it appears to be something called dyspraxia. This is basically a condition involving frequent clumsiness and loss of coordination that is not explained by another disease or injury. Dyspraxia can cause many different effects besides clumsiness, but right now, Marshall's main symptoms seem to be coordination and balance issues."
"Is Marshall's prognosis bad?" questioned Ryder.
"Unfortunately, there is no cure, but there are treatments available to reduce the symptoms. Patients vary on their response to treatment, but many find at least some relief from their symptoms after therapy sessions. We won't know exactly how Marshall responds until we try a few weeks of the therapy. I'd recommend some physical therapy sessions that help him to train his sense of balance and coordination. However, before we begin the therapy, I'd like to make sure he is fully recovered from his head injury."
"This sounds like a good plan," replied Ryder.
While Ryder and the doctor were having their conversation, the pups went to visit Marshall. They boarded the west wing elevator and pressed the button for floor 7. It was a peaceful entrance to the elevator, free of any crashes or impromptu jokes. Chase missed this aspect; it wasn't the same without Marshall around. Based on the pups dejected expressions, Chase inferred that the other pups were missing Marshall as well. They knew he wasn't gone forever, but they had not been separated by such extreme circumstances before. Yes, Skye did get lost in a snowstorm and Rocky got trapped on Junk Island, but none of the pups were ever this seriously injured.
Ding!
"Floor 7, PICU," announced an automated voice as the elevator doors opened.
Walking down the hall, the pups passed several patient rooms separated from the hall by sliding glass doors and dull grey-green curtains. The pungent odor of hand sanitizer filled the air. Gentle beeping from monitoring equipment could be heard from some of the rooms. They took in their surroundings: an environment that was peaceful, yet humbling, as they were surrounded by sick pups who never asked to be here. After traversing a seemingly never-ending hallway, they came to a set of automatic double doors with small vertical windows. The sign above the doors read: "Pup Intensive Care Unit (PICU)". The lights were dimmer in this wing, but the machines were substantially louder. Trotting past the nursing desk, they admired the handmade get-well-soon cards decorating the otherwise mundane work station. When they had visited Marshall yesterday, he was in room 711 so they went there. The pups were not prepared for what happened next.
A prerecorded voice blared over the intercom: "Code Blue, Room 711, PICU, Code Blue, Room 711, PICU."
A nurse hurriedly pushed a red cart with some medical equipment into the room. A couple of physicians raced from a central room surrounded by glass windows into Room 711. Instructions were being thrown around the room, although the pups couldn't follow all the medical jargon.
"Still v-fib, continue compressions, let's draw up 1mg epinephrine 1:10,000," said one of the doctors.
"What is going on in thewe?!" cried Zuma.
Chase had already made a beeline for the door. Unfortunately, one of the nurses stopped Chase in his tracks.
"Pup, you gotta wait outside, you can't disturb the code team," asserted the nurse.
The pups seemed frozen in time, as if in a museum. Chase had a blank stare, as if there was no personality inside him. The pups knew what the likely outcome was here. There was going to be no more Marshall, no more paw patrol. Marshall was irreplaceable, and there couldn't be a paw patrol without a fire pup, right? This reality absolutely broke Skye, as she started bawling in the hallway. The other pups stood in shock, whimpering in utter dismay. Hearing Skye crying her eyes out, one of the other nurses came over to check in. Upon seeing the distraught group of pups, she addressed the pups in a calm and empathetic tone:
"You pups look terrible, what's wrong?"
"We were just coming to see Marshall and then he just dies like what am I going to do there can't be a replacement for him we'll never get to see him again…WAAAHHH!" Skye completely lost her composure, streaming tears of despair into her fur. Chase was trying to console her, and the other pups were simply watching in utter shock.
Tentatively, the nurse asked, "Are you the family of the patient?"
"Yes, we are his family. I just want to see him again, but he's probably DEAD!" Chase whined. He was on the verge of crying as well.
"You said you're looking for a dalmatian named Marshall, right?" the nurse questioned. She began typing into a computer on a rolling cart in the hallway, sporting a puzzled expression.
"Yes...yes, we're looking for Marshall," Chase confirmed, sealing in the inevitable fate. He would never see his friend again; there would be no more crashes in the elevator, no more funny jokes; heck, even if they weren't funny, there would be no more Marshall to tell them…
Except Chase, nor any of the other heartbroken pups, could have predicted what the nurse was going to say next.
"Pups, I don't know why no one told you, but Marshall was moved to Room 625 a couple hours ago."
A/N: Surprise twist at the end there. By the way, I have to say thanks for the support; I really appreciate it. Anyways, hope you enjoyed the chapter, and see ya later!
-PawsomeHamster