In the Bayou

Something had changed. Mike wasn't sure exactly what it was, but the clouds looked different. It was no longer comfortable and warm by the river. He thought about heading back to the cabin, but that didn't feel right either. For the first time since he had been lying on the rock, he had a sense of displacement, as if he simply didn't belong. It made him distinctly uncomfortable.

Suddenly memories began to crowd into his brain. He remembered that the older woman who seemed to be searching for him had been his mother. He remembered the men in uniform who had come to the island and had taken him back to his parents. He was foggy about how much time he had spent with his grandfather and uncles, or exactly what had happened to the three, but he knew his time now on the island was once again over, and that he had somewhere else he belonged.

Rampart Hospital

Mike Stoker's Room

Nearly a week had passed since the decision not to turn off Mike's life support. Beth was frustrated because nothing had changed. Her lover was as silent and as still as ever. The return to consciousness she was sure would come had not happened. She spent her days in a dark funk, and her nights in a restless half sleep. In short, Beth was beginning to lose hope.

Mike's awakening, when it happened caught her completely by surprise. She was standing at the window, staring out at the trees. It was a beautiful day, and somehow the sunshine just made her feel worse. "Oh, Mike, I wish you could be sharing this with me. Damn you, wake up!"

She heard a faint rattling from behind her.

Beth whirled around and stared at the bed. Mike's eyes were barely cracked open, but he was awake, and his fingers were brushing the side rail, rattling the bed. She thought she was going to faint but kept it together. She hit the call button and hurried to his side. His eyes didn't look like they were tracking her very well, but she'd take anything she could get.

"Oh, Mike!" She grasped his hand in hers, just in time for the nurse to arrive and at one look at her patient, call for Dr. Early. The room was soon filled with medical personnel and machines. Beth, of necessity, was shunted aside as the room became a whirlwind of activity. She was fine with that. Her Mikey was back.

He looked very different the next time she saw him. For one thing, there was less equipment surrounding him. Because he was breathing on his own, the respirator that had been breathing for him had been removed. He was being monitored very closely, but so far, his heart rate had been registering normal. They would be taking things very slowly, but Dr. Early was pleased with the new developments in Mike's recovery. For another, there was now a nurse stationed at the foot of his bed all the time, monitoring his recovery and reactions for the first 24 hours. The doctors were taking no chances.

Next steps would be a battery of tests to determine how much damage the concussion and coma had done to his brain function and motor skills. The hope, of course, was that it was minimal. The next few days would give them a clearer picture of where Mike stood.

It was obvious from the start that his speech had been affected. He slurred his words, but even with that, Beth was thrilled to hear his first words: "Bethy, I mished 'ou."

Her reply was heartfelt. "Mike, you have no idea how much I've missed you, too."

Mike smiled and sank into a deep, natural, healing sleep. He never heard Beth cry from sheer relief. Soon it would be time to let the rest of her friends and family know he was awake, but for this moment, she took some time to shed some of the stress of the past weeks. Beth cried it all out, and the nurses made sure no one disturbed her for a little while. After a half-hour or so, one of their favorite nurses, Barbara Jean, brought her a cup of hot tea and a couple of cookies from the nurse's lounge. She also handed her a box of tissues. She never said a word, but simply left the tray and smiled. Mike was a patient she had gotten particularly fond of and she was happy to see him doing better. No words were needed right now. Actions said it all.

Later that Afternoon

Word had gotten around that Mike had finally awakened from his coma. The members of "A" shift were jubilant. Not that they were unhappy with the replacement engineer, but they were all hoping Mike would be able to come back as engineer on Big Red someday soon. They missed him and his quiet efficiency and subtle sense of humor. There was a fracture in their family as long as Stoker was missing from their ranks.

Mike had a long hard fight ahead of him. That fight started a few days after he woke up from the coma. They started him on Speech, Physical and Occupational Therapies as soon as Dr. Early cleared him to begin. At first it was simple things, like exercising his legs and arms in bed, reading alphabet and picture flashcards, and manipulating sponge shapes and wooden blocks. He graduated to more difficult tasks as the days wore on and his condition improved. It wasn't long before he was able to tolerate sitting in a chair for several hours at a time and even walking with a walker for a few steps.

Mike's speech remained his biggest challenge, although Dr. Early felt that would sort itself out with time. Reading was also tough for him. This time was hard on Mike, as he was focused on trying to get back to work, and the slowness of his recovery frustrated and angered him. Fortunately, his therapy team was used to working with patients in his situation, so they were understanding and patient with him, although they were not above kicking him in the tail when he needed it.

Mike grew especially close to his speech therapist, a young man named Eric. Eric was good at making Mike feel at ease and pulling his best efforts from him. Mike worked hard and his speech improved dramatically over the course of the eight weeks he was in the step-down rehab ward at Rampart.

He worked hard during his sessions in the ward's workout room and graduated from a wheelchair to a walker during that same eight weeks. The doctors were amazed at his progress, but not entirely surprised. They had all known Mike for a long time and knew that the quiet man was also a very determined one.

Finally, it came time for Mike to be moved to an off-site rehab center to continue his physical, speech, and occupational therapies. The goal, of course, was to get him ready to live at home. The doctors projected a stay of eight to twelve weeks, barring any complications. As long as he didn't contract pneumonia or any sort of infection, they felt he had a pretty good chance of a full recovery within that time frame.

Willow Tree Rehab Facility

Los Angeles

Four Weeks Later

Mike was undergoing intense physical therapy. He was already walking nearly as well as he had before the accident and was now building his stamina with weight training and time on the stationary bicycle. He especially enjoyed the three times a week when different members of A-shift would come and jog with him. True, it was only around the enclosed facility garden, and it wasn't going to break any world records, but Mike was jogging, and that was what counted. Mike was moving at all, and that was what really mattered to anyone.

The one area that still remained a struggle was his speech. His speech therapist remained optimistic that Mike would make a full recovery, but that it would just take time—time Mike was loathe to give himself. He wanted to get out of the facility and get back to work. And so typically, Mike doubled down on the speech exercises he had been given and worked harder than ever. He was determined to go home as soon as possible in perfect health…or at least in as perfect health as was up to him.

He had been given a cassette recorder to record words and phrases he had difficulty pronouncing so he could practice them. Along with recording the words, he had a habit of recording rants about what he was feeling about his situation. He felt better doing this than writing them down, because no one had access to the recorder but him. Unlike his stoic reputation, Mike could be a pretty verbose guy when he had reason to be. These recording sessions usually occurred late at night, and he figured the night nurses knew what he was doing, because they never checked on him while one was going on. He chalked it up to them figuring it was good for his mental health. Quite likely it was good for theirs as well, as they didn't have to deal with a patient who bottled up all his feelings and closed himself off from the world.

Six Weeks Later

Mike could hardly believe his ears. "Are you kidding me?"

Eric grinned. "Nope! It's true! I wanted to be the one to tell you. We're springing you from this joint next week. You've done all the recovering you can do here. The rest can come at home, and the docs see no reason why in six or eight months you shouldn't be able to requalify as an engineer and go back to work. How's that for a news bulletin for the day?"

Mike knew he needed to call Beth and the others, but right now he just wanted to soak in the news. He was going home, and he would eventually be able to go back to work. He was an incredibly lucky man, and he knew it. Many victims of drunk drivers never get that lucky—never survive at all—and yet he had. He closed his eyes, a little overwhelmed by the largeness of the moment. Mike opened his eyes and looked at Eric. "This sounds so inadequate, but, thanks, man. Thank you."

~TBC~