Part 11
Kerry rolled over in her sleep; a sudden jolt of pain in her leg brought her back to awareness.
She slowly opened her eyes and found the room was dark except for the muted lighting coming from
the small lamp off to her left on a bedside table. Her eyes adjusted to the soft light and Kerry realised
that she was in her own bedroom. Looking across at the small bedside clock, she noted that it was
nearly 10.30 p.m.- on what day, she had no idea. The last thing she remembered was arriving home
with Elizabeth and lying down on the couch.
An uneasiness filled her as Kerry realised that she wasn't alone. She sensed, more than saw,
the man sitting there, watching her. Fear flooded through her and she screamed loudly, sitting up
quickly and pushing the covers back. The man moved out of the wicker chair; the familiar creak of the
cane chair intensifying her fear. It was a perfect repetition of the night of her attack except this time she
wasn't tied down. Kerry rolled sideways to her right to avoid meeting the man on the left side of her
bed. She hit the floor with a bang and grimaced at the shooting pain that ran down her leg.
"Kerry? Kerry, it's John. John Carter." Carter's soft voice broke through the fear. "I'm sorry
to scare you like that."
"Carter?" Kerry almost didn't recognise her own voice, which was now a raspy croak.
Kerry's voice wobbled as she said his name, uncertain at what she felt at that moment: relief that it was
Carter or annoyance that he had seen her fear. "What are you doing here?" She ran her tongue
around the insides of her mouth and swallowed, hoping to clear the dry, raw feeling in her throat.
"Elizabeth didn't want to leave you on your own and I offered to stay. She needed some
sleep." Carter reached down and helped Kerry to her feet.
"What day is it?" Kerry wondered how long she had been out of it. She swept away at her
fringe which was haphazardly falling across her forehead and into her eyes. All of a sudden, she
noticed that her bladder was near bursting and she scrambled to make it to the toilet.
"Sunday, the fourteenth...." Carter trailed off, his face showing his surprise at her sudden
departure.
Kerry used the wall to maintain her balance; her usual difficulty with walking was now
compounded by lightheadedness. She didn't know where they had left her crutch and she didn't want
to embarrass herself with an accident while asking where it was. As she moved down the hall, she
realised that she had lost a day to her illness. She sensed Carter following her rather than actually
seeing him. Moving as fast as she could, Kerry entered the bathroom, slamming the door firmly behind
her.
Sinking down on the toilet seat gratefully, she put her head in her hands. Her forehead was still
hot and beads of perspiration trickled across her brow. The short walk from her bedroom to the
bathroom had exhausted her. Kerry couldn't remember the last time she felt like this. It would be so
easy to just close her eyes and go back to sleep, even in this uncomfortable and draughty room.
Finishing, she flushed the toilet and washed her hands. The cool feeling of the water rushing
over her clammy hands was refreshing. Kerry placed the plug in the basin and filled it, dropping her
small flannel into the water. Squeezing out the excess water, she wiped the flannel across her moist
forehead. It helped clear her head of the cotton-woolly feeling and she felt refreshed. She sneaked a
glance in the mirror and quickly looked away.
"Kerry? Dr. Weaver, are you all right?" Carter's muffled voice called out.
Kerry realised that she had been in the bathroom for probably near on ten minutes, more than
enough time to cause concern. "Yes. I'm fine. I'm coming out now."
Opening the door, Kerry found Carter waiting for her outside, her crutch in his hand. "It was
downstairs. We forgot it. Sorry."
Kerry just nodded, taking the crutch from him. It wasn't something you thought about unless
you needed one.
"Would you like something to eat - crackers, ice-cream?"
The thought of ice cream sliding down her raw, scratchy throat was heavenly. "A small bowl of
ice cream would be good."
"How about you lie down again and I'll bring it up to you?"
Kerry didn't want to go back to her room; the memories of her dream was still vivid in her
mind. Being alone in her room would only serve to intensify those memories. So she followed him
down the stairs and sat down on the couch while he went into the kitchen. She disengaged the crutch
from her arm and dropped it at the foot of the couch. Sinking down against the soft pillows, Kerry
tucked her legs up and under the warmth of the afghan rug draped over the opposite end of the couch.
"What sort of ice-cream do you want? Double choc fudge or vanilla?" Carter asked holding
the freezer door wide open while he scanned its contents.
"Vanilla." Kerry couldn't bear the thought of the heavy sweetness of the chocolate fudge ice-
cream. She had bought it for those rare occasions when she needed a chocolate-fix. It would only
take one scoop and she was satisfied. "Carter, don't stand there with the freezer door open."
Carter looked up, surprised. Kerry gave him a quick grin. Her reprimand brought back
memories of when he had lived with her. She hadn't realised how much she had missed having
someone else in her home, even if it was just to tell them to close the freezer door. There were a lot of
reprimands she hadn't had to give since he moved out. She suddenly yearned to be able to have him
here again, leaving the fridge door slightly ajar or leaving the toilet seat up.
Carter shut the freezer door, placing the cold tub of ice cream on the centre island. Kerry
could hear him opening and closing doors, searching for the crockery. She smiled to herself as she
heard Carter's frustrated mutter. "Don't break anything, Carter"
"I will try not to if I could find where you've hidden the dishes."
"I haven't hidden them;. I got the urge to change things around in the kitchen," Kerry
commented with a casual air. More accurately, she had decided to use her sleepless nights to some
good around the house. "They're in the first cupboard left of the sink."
Carter was surprised, again. But this time it was due to what she had done to the kitchen which
was out of character for Kerry. She liked to maintain consistency. He recalled how he had tried to
rearrange the bathroom cabinet and had quickly been told to leave it as he had originally found it.
Kerry had allocated space for his toiletries where she had wanted them.
He found the dessert bowl he was looking for. As he scooped up two small balls of ice-cream,
he heard Kerry coughing uncontrollably. Carter watched with concern. He wanted to race over there
and support her as she raised herself on a shaky arm off the couch, and tried to find a position which
would relieve the deep ache in her chest from the persistent coughing. He knew better than to fuss but
he also didn't want to do nothing. The problem was that with Kerry, the line was a very fine one.
Grabbing the cold jug of water from the fridge, he poured a glass of chilled water and brought it
over to her, just as she finished her bout of coughing and sank back into the soft pillows.
"Thanks, Carter." Her words of thanks were barely perceptible as she took the glass, her voice
a wispy residuum of the strong and capable woman he had lived with.
Carter went back to the kitchen to get the bowl of ice cream. At the same time, he picked up
the bottle of tablets that Mark had given him as he had left the hospital.
"Mark got your lab results back. It's Type A. He's prescribed some Symmetrel. Usual
dosage 200mg per day for ten days." He asked as he returned to stand beside her.
"Carter, I don't need any Symmetrel. It's the simple 'flu. You know that it takes time to work
it's way through the system." Kerry's hand shook as she held the glass of water, a couple of drops
spilling over the edge. She rubbed at them ineffectively.
"Yes. That's true. But you also know the benefits of Symmetrel. It'll reduce the duration and
severity of your symptoms."
"Carter... I can't do this. I can't fight you. I'm too tired." Kerry felt the rush of tears flooding
her eyes.
Carter took the glass of water from her hands before it spilled again, placing it on the coffee
table.. He sat down on the edge of the couch and gently asked, "Do you have to fight me?"
Kerry shook her head. She didn't want to argue with him. But for the last few weeks, it had
seemed like she was constantly fighting - fighting to keep up with paperwork, fighting to keep control of
the ER, fighting to regain her life which seemed to be spinning out of control.
"Kerry, we're.... I'm only trying to help you. You know that taking Symmetrel will relieve your
symptoms." Carter remembered the way Kerry had woken, the sheer terror that had filled her face.
"Unless there's some contraindication for you taking it?"
"No. No, there's not."
Watching Kerry, Carter thought about her behaviour over the last couple of weeks. There
were obvious signs that Kerry was having trouble sleeping. The deep ridges of blue-black beneath her
eyes were a good indicator, confirmed today by the nightmare he had witnessed. It left him wondering
what had triggered off the nightmares. In all the time he had lived with her, he had not known Kerry to
suffer from nightmares.
{November 15, 1999}
Lying on the comfortable couch, which had been turned into her bed over the past couple of
weeks, Kerry dozed fitfully. Visions of a dark featureless figure moving towards her assailed her
dreams. His large calloused hands stretched out before him and his feet slowly moved the hulking
shape closer to her. Her breath caught in her throat as he got closer and closer, so close that she could
almost feel his breath play against the sensitive skin of her face. She forced herself to look up at the
face and she screamed.
Her eyes flew open at the sound, dragging her out of her nightmare. Taking in the familiar
surroundings of her living room, the soft lighting from the wall lights chasing away shadows, she calmed
her ragged breathing. It sounded as if she had just run a marathon rather than awoken from a troubled
sleep.
The doorbell rang. Kerry looked up at the clock and wondered who would be visiting at four
o'clock in the afternoon. She quickly pushed herself up into a sitting position, then grabbed the edge of
the sofa when the room began to spin and dip. An interesting array of colours flashed across her eyes
before the room settled back to its normal position. The doorbell rang again and she moved slowly to
answer it, leaning heavily on her crutch for support. A quick look at the small black and white monitor
revealled that it was Jeanie, laden with a couple of bags.
Opening the inner door, she greeted Jeanie with a smile. She had forgotten that Jeanie had
offered to pick up some groceries for her when she telephoned that morning. "Hey, Jeanie."
"Hey, Kerry. How are you doing?" Jeanie returned her friendly smile with one of her own as
Kerry struggled to undo the locks to the security door.
"Much better."
"See what a few days of bed rest will do for you." Jeanie hoisted the bags of groceries back up
onto her hips for balance and entered the house, moving towards the living room.
"Even if it is forced." Kerry commented to her as she locked the doors again, but not before
taking a look outside to ensure there were no intruders lurking around.
"They were only doing what was best for you," Jeanie responded as she put the two bags of
groceries on the kitchen table.
"I know," Kerry said as she entered the room. Her voice was still croaky, but not as painful
and scratchy as it had been the past few days. Her mouth was dry and she picked up the glass of
lukewarm water that had been sitting on the coffee table and took a sip. "I'll put away the groceries,"
she said as Jeanie began pulling out the various items she had bought.
"No you won't. I want you to sit down and don't even try to start helping." Jeanie put the
carton of milk and bottle of tomato juice into the refrigerator. "They all care about you," Jeanie said
referring back to their previous discussion.
"That's a debate. I don't think Mark will ever forgive me for what happened with Romano.
That day I'd reckon that he'd have used me for target practice." She referred to the incident earlier in
the year when she had shafted Mark in the conference room over Romano's appointment. He hadn't
seen it from her point of view and she understood the anger emanating from him. Her decision had
made Mark wary of her and derisive of her decisions, and the staff had been his backers, supporting his
stand against Romano. Kerry moved into the kitchen area and pulled herself up onto one of the stools,
watching as Jeanie put away the groceries.
"Am I hearing this correctly? This is Kerry Weaver I'm talking to and not an imposter?"
"Yep, you've got her all right. Depressed and downright miserable." Kerry rested her head in
her hand, her elbow sitting on the hard bench surface. The fingers of her other hand played with the
edge of the tea towel that had been left sitting there.
"I've never seen you like this before."
"You've never seen me ill before either. There's a first time for everything." Kerry's voice was
flat.
Jeanie looked up, concerned. She had never heard Kerry like this. Obviously, the flu had
taken its toll, not only physically but emotionally. Jeanie gave her a smile of understanding. "Kerry, I
meant it when I said they cared about you. I was at the hospital yesterday and many of the staff asked
me when you were returning."
"They're probably hoping that I'll be out for at least another week."
"I don't think so. Randi was a bit stressed out, muttering to herself about how the place always
falls apart when you're not there." Jeanie laughed when Kerry shook her head in disbelief.
"There's no way Randi gets stressed out."
"It's true, Kerry. You only see her when you are there. You steer the ER and they all look up
to you for leadership. I know it's hard being a leader, that you have to make decisions that your friends
don't like - even your closest friends." Jeanie gave her a smile of understanding. "They hurt. Mark will
get over his hurt."
"Did you?"
"It took time, but time heals a lot. We both fought for what we thought was right. Sometimes,
even as friends, we are not going to agree." Jeanie gave Kerry a hug, reaffirming their friendship.
"How's Carlos?"
"Going well. He's got crawling down to an art and has worked out how to pull himself up on
the furniture." Jeanie's face lit up as she spoke about her young foster son's achievements. Kerry
listened to her descriptions of his antics and Jeanie's easy laughter filled the room.
Kerry smiled, enjoying the stories. As she sat there, her head tilted to the side, she felt the
pressure building in her temple. Kerry forced herself to concentrate on the words, but found that they
sounded hollow and didn't make sense. Her vision blurred and she blinked, trying to refocus.
"Kerry?" Jeanie noticed the loss of colour to Kerry's face. Putting down the tub of cottage
cheese on the bench top, Jeanie was at Kerry's side, an arm behind Kerry's back and her other hand
cupping Kerry's arm. "Come over to the couch and lie down. I think you've overdone it."
Kerry offered no resistance to Jeanie's support. She needed to lie down. They moved slowly
across to the couch and Kerry sank down onto it gratefully. Jeanie went back to the kitchen and
poured a glass of chilled water.
"Here, drink this." Jeanie handed her the glass.
"Thanks," Kerry took a sip and leaned back against the back of the couch, running a hand
across her forehead. It was damp with perspiration. "Jeanie, I haven't felt this bad in years. I can't do
anything - I want to, but I've got no energy."
"The flu is like that. You've been lucky enough to escape its grips for so long. Did you forget
to have your flu shot?"
Kerry ran her mind back over the past few weeks. She would normally get her flu shot at the
beginning of November. She gave a frustrated groan. When would the tangled web of intrusion by her
attacker stop? "I must have forgotten," she replied.
"It's not like you to forget something like that. You were always reminding me and the rest of
the staff in the ER to make sure we had our shots."
"As I said, there's a first time for everything." Kerry deflected her query and put the half empty
glass on the coffee table. She moved her legs up onto the couch and curled into a comfortable position
against the pillows.
"What meds have they got you on?" Jeanie pulled the afghan up over Kerry's legs, before
Kerry had a chance to do it for herself.
"Symmetrel. 200 mg per day. I've also been taking Tylenol for the nausea and headaches."
"Do you need anything now?"
"No. I think I'll just rest."
"Okay. I'll finish sorting out the groceries and I'll cook something for you to eat later."
"You don't have to do that."
"I know. But I want to."
Kerry caught Jeanie's hand as she went to move away and gave it a squeeze, then smiled at
her. "Thanks, Jeanie. You're a great friend."
End Part 11
Kerry rolled over in her sleep; a sudden jolt of pain in her leg brought her back to awareness.
She slowly opened her eyes and found the room was dark except for the muted lighting coming from
the small lamp off to her left on a bedside table. Her eyes adjusted to the soft light and Kerry realised
that she was in her own bedroom. Looking across at the small bedside clock, she noted that it was
nearly 10.30 p.m.- on what day, she had no idea. The last thing she remembered was arriving home
with Elizabeth and lying down on the couch.
An uneasiness filled her as Kerry realised that she wasn't alone. She sensed, more than saw,
the man sitting there, watching her. Fear flooded through her and she screamed loudly, sitting up
quickly and pushing the covers back. The man moved out of the wicker chair; the familiar creak of the
cane chair intensifying her fear. It was a perfect repetition of the night of her attack except this time she
wasn't tied down. Kerry rolled sideways to her right to avoid meeting the man on the left side of her
bed. She hit the floor with a bang and grimaced at the shooting pain that ran down her leg.
"Kerry? Kerry, it's John. John Carter." Carter's soft voice broke through the fear. "I'm sorry
to scare you like that."
"Carter?" Kerry almost didn't recognise her own voice, which was now a raspy croak.
Kerry's voice wobbled as she said his name, uncertain at what she felt at that moment: relief that it was
Carter or annoyance that he had seen her fear. "What are you doing here?" She ran her tongue
around the insides of her mouth and swallowed, hoping to clear the dry, raw feeling in her throat.
"Elizabeth didn't want to leave you on your own and I offered to stay. She needed some
sleep." Carter reached down and helped Kerry to her feet.
"What day is it?" Kerry wondered how long she had been out of it. She swept away at her
fringe which was haphazardly falling across her forehead and into her eyes. All of a sudden, she
noticed that her bladder was near bursting and she scrambled to make it to the toilet.
"Sunday, the fourteenth...." Carter trailed off, his face showing his surprise at her sudden
departure.
Kerry used the wall to maintain her balance; her usual difficulty with walking was now
compounded by lightheadedness. She didn't know where they had left her crutch and she didn't want
to embarrass herself with an accident while asking where it was. As she moved down the hall, she
realised that she had lost a day to her illness. She sensed Carter following her rather than actually
seeing him. Moving as fast as she could, Kerry entered the bathroom, slamming the door firmly behind
her.
Sinking down on the toilet seat gratefully, she put her head in her hands. Her forehead was still
hot and beads of perspiration trickled across her brow. The short walk from her bedroom to the
bathroom had exhausted her. Kerry couldn't remember the last time she felt like this. It would be so
easy to just close her eyes and go back to sleep, even in this uncomfortable and draughty room.
Finishing, she flushed the toilet and washed her hands. The cool feeling of the water rushing
over her clammy hands was refreshing. Kerry placed the plug in the basin and filled it, dropping her
small flannel into the water. Squeezing out the excess water, she wiped the flannel across her moist
forehead. It helped clear her head of the cotton-woolly feeling and she felt refreshed. She sneaked a
glance in the mirror and quickly looked away.
"Kerry? Dr. Weaver, are you all right?" Carter's muffled voice called out.
Kerry realised that she had been in the bathroom for probably near on ten minutes, more than
enough time to cause concern. "Yes. I'm fine. I'm coming out now."
Opening the door, Kerry found Carter waiting for her outside, her crutch in his hand. "It was
downstairs. We forgot it. Sorry."
Kerry just nodded, taking the crutch from him. It wasn't something you thought about unless
you needed one.
"Would you like something to eat - crackers, ice-cream?"
The thought of ice cream sliding down her raw, scratchy throat was heavenly. "A small bowl of
ice cream would be good."
"How about you lie down again and I'll bring it up to you?"
Kerry didn't want to go back to her room; the memories of her dream was still vivid in her
mind. Being alone in her room would only serve to intensify those memories. So she followed him
down the stairs and sat down on the couch while he went into the kitchen. She disengaged the crutch
from her arm and dropped it at the foot of the couch. Sinking down against the soft pillows, Kerry
tucked her legs up and under the warmth of the afghan rug draped over the opposite end of the couch.
"What sort of ice-cream do you want? Double choc fudge or vanilla?" Carter asked holding
the freezer door wide open while he scanned its contents.
"Vanilla." Kerry couldn't bear the thought of the heavy sweetness of the chocolate fudge ice-
cream. She had bought it for those rare occasions when she needed a chocolate-fix. It would only
take one scoop and she was satisfied. "Carter, don't stand there with the freezer door open."
Carter looked up, surprised. Kerry gave him a quick grin. Her reprimand brought back
memories of when he had lived with her. She hadn't realised how much she had missed having
someone else in her home, even if it was just to tell them to close the freezer door. There were a lot of
reprimands she hadn't had to give since he moved out. She suddenly yearned to be able to have him
here again, leaving the fridge door slightly ajar or leaving the toilet seat up.
Carter shut the freezer door, placing the cold tub of ice cream on the centre island. Kerry
could hear him opening and closing doors, searching for the crockery. She smiled to herself as she
heard Carter's frustrated mutter. "Don't break anything, Carter"
"I will try not to if I could find where you've hidden the dishes."
"I haven't hidden them;. I got the urge to change things around in the kitchen," Kerry
commented with a casual air. More accurately, she had decided to use her sleepless nights to some
good around the house. "They're in the first cupboard left of the sink."
Carter was surprised, again. But this time it was due to what she had done to the kitchen which
was out of character for Kerry. She liked to maintain consistency. He recalled how he had tried to
rearrange the bathroom cabinet and had quickly been told to leave it as he had originally found it.
Kerry had allocated space for his toiletries where she had wanted them.
He found the dessert bowl he was looking for. As he scooped up two small balls of ice-cream,
he heard Kerry coughing uncontrollably. Carter watched with concern. He wanted to race over there
and support her as she raised herself on a shaky arm off the couch, and tried to find a position which
would relieve the deep ache in her chest from the persistent coughing. He knew better than to fuss but
he also didn't want to do nothing. The problem was that with Kerry, the line was a very fine one.
Grabbing the cold jug of water from the fridge, he poured a glass of chilled water and brought it
over to her, just as she finished her bout of coughing and sank back into the soft pillows.
"Thanks, Carter." Her words of thanks were barely perceptible as she took the glass, her voice
a wispy residuum of the strong and capable woman he had lived with.
Carter went back to the kitchen to get the bowl of ice cream. At the same time, he picked up
the bottle of tablets that Mark had given him as he had left the hospital.
"Mark got your lab results back. It's Type A. He's prescribed some Symmetrel. Usual
dosage 200mg per day for ten days." He asked as he returned to stand beside her.
"Carter, I don't need any Symmetrel. It's the simple 'flu. You know that it takes time to work
it's way through the system." Kerry's hand shook as she held the glass of water, a couple of drops
spilling over the edge. She rubbed at them ineffectively.
"Yes. That's true. But you also know the benefits of Symmetrel. It'll reduce the duration and
severity of your symptoms."
"Carter... I can't do this. I can't fight you. I'm too tired." Kerry felt the rush of tears flooding
her eyes.
Carter took the glass of water from her hands before it spilled again, placing it on the coffee
table.. He sat down on the edge of the couch and gently asked, "Do you have to fight me?"
Kerry shook her head. She didn't want to argue with him. But for the last few weeks, it had
seemed like she was constantly fighting - fighting to keep up with paperwork, fighting to keep control of
the ER, fighting to regain her life which seemed to be spinning out of control.
"Kerry, we're.... I'm only trying to help you. You know that taking Symmetrel will relieve your
symptoms." Carter remembered the way Kerry had woken, the sheer terror that had filled her face.
"Unless there's some contraindication for you taking it?"
"No. No, there's not."
Watching Kerry, Carter thought about her behaviour over the last couple of weeks. There
were obvious signs that Kerry was having trouble sleeping. The deep ridges of blue-black beneath her
eyes were a good indicator, confirmed today by the nightmare he had witnessed. It left him wondering
what had triggered off the nightmares. In all the time he had lived with her, he had not known Kerry to
suffer from nightmares.
{November 15, 1999}
Lying on the comfortable couch, which had been turned into her bed over the past couple of
weeks, Kerry dozed fitfully. Visions of a dark featureless figure moving towards her assailed her
dreams. His large calloused hands stretched out before him and his feet slowly moved the hulking
shape closer to her. Her breath caught in her throat as he got closer and closer, so close that she could
almost feel his breath play against the sensitive skin of her face. She forced herself to look up at the
face and she screamed.
Her eyes flew open at the sound, dragging her out of her nightmare. Taking in the familiar
surroundings of her living room, the soft lighting from the wall lights chasing away shadows, she calmed
her ragged breathing. It sounded as if she had just run a marathon rather than awoken from a troubled
sleep.
The doorbell rang. Kerry looked up at the clock and wondered who would be visiting at four
o'clock in the afternoon. She quickly pushed herself up into a sitting position, then grabbed the edge of
the sofa when the room began to spin and dip. An interesting array of colours flashed across her eyes
before the room settled back to its normal position. The doorbell rang again and she moved slowly to
answer it, leaning heavily on her crutch for support. A quick look at the small black and white monitor
revealled that it was Jeanie, laden with a couple of bags.
Opening the inner door, she greeted Jeanie with a smile. She had forgotten that Jeanie had
offered to pick up some groceries for her when she telephoned that morning. "Hey, Jeanie."
"Hey, Kerry. How are you doing?" Jeanie returned her friendly smile with one of her own as
Kerry struggled to undo the locks to the security door.
"Much better."
"See what a few days of bed rest will do for you." Jeanie hoisted the bags of groceries back up
onto her hips for balance and entered the house, moving towards the living room.
"Even if it is forced." Kerry commented to her as she locked the doors again, but not before
taking a look outside to ensure there were no intruders lurking around.
"They were only doing what was best for you," Jeanie responded as she put the two bags of
groceries on the kitchen table.
"I know," Kerry said as she entered the room. Her voice was still croaky, but not as painful
and scratchy as it had been the past few days. Her mouth was dry and she picked up the glass of
lukewarm water that had been sitting on the coffee table and took a sip. "I'll put away the groceries,"
she said as Jeanie began pulling out the various items she had bought.
"No you won't. I want you to sit down and don't even try to start helping." Jeanie put the
carton of milk and bottle of tomato juice into the refrigerator. "They all care about you," Jeanie said
referring back to their previous discussion.
"That's a debate. I don't think Mark will ever forgive me for what happened with Romano.
That day I'd reckon that he'd have used me for target practice." She referred to the incident earlier in
the year when she had shafted Mark in the conference room over Romano's appointment. He hadn't
seen it from her point of view and she understood the anger emanating from him. Her decision had
made Mark wary of her and derisive of her decisions, and the staff had been his backers, supporting his
stand against Romano. Kerry moved into the kitchen area and pulled herself up onto one of the stools,
watching as Jeanie put away the groceries.
"Am I hearing this correctly? This is Kerry Weaver I'm talking to and not an imposter?"
"Yep, you've got her all right. Depressed and downright miserable." Kerry rested her head in
her hand, her elbow sitting on the hard bench surface. The fingers of her other hand played with the
edge of the tea towel that had been left sitting there.
"I've never seen you like this before."
"You've never seen me ill before either. There's a first time for everything." Kerry's voice was
flat.
Jeanie looked up, concerned. She had never heard Kerry like this. Obviously, the flu had
taken its toll, not only physically but emotionally. Jeanie gave her a smile of understanding. "Kerry, I
meant it when I said they cared about you. I was at the hospital yesterday and many of the staff asked
me when you were returning."
"They're probably hoping that I'll be out for at least another week."
"I don't think so. Randi was a bit stressed out, muttering to herself about how the place always
falls apart when you're not there." Jeanie laughed when Kerry shook her head in disbelief.
"There's no way Randi gets stressed out."
"It's true, Kerry. You only see her when you are there. You steer the ER and they all look up
to you for leadership. I know it's hard being a leader, that you have to make decisions that your friends
don't like - even your closest friends." Jeanie gave her a smile of understanding. "They hurt. Mark will
get over his hurt."
"Did you?"
"It took time, but time heals a lot. We both fought for what we thought was right. Sometimes,
even as friends, we are not going to agree." Jeanie gave Kerry a hug, reaffirming their friendship.
"How's Carlos?"
"Going well. He's got crawling down to an art and has worked out how to pull himself up on
the furniture." Jeanie's face lit up as she spoke about her young foster son's achievements. Kerry
listened to her descriptions of his antics and Jeanie's easy laughter filled the room.
Kerry smiled, enjoying the stories. As she sat there, her head tilted to the side, she felt the
pressure building in her temple. Kerry forced herself to concentrate on the words, but found that they
sounded hollow and didn't make sense. Her vision blurred and she blinked, trying to refocus.
"Kerry?" Jeanie noticed the loss of colour to Kerry's face. Putting down the tub of cottage
cheese on the bench top, Jeanie was at Kerry's side, an arm behind Kerry's back and her other hand
cupping Kerry's arm. "Come over to the couch and lie down. I think you've overdone it."
Kerry offered no resistance to Jeanie's support. She needed to lie down. They moved slowly
across to the couch and Kerry sank down onto it gratefully. Jeanie went back to the kitchen and
poured a glass of chilled water.
"Here, drink this." Jeanie handed her the glass.
"Thanks," Kerry took a sip and leaned back against the back of the couch, running a hand
across her forehead. It was damp with perspiration. "Jeanie, I haven't felt this bad in years. I can't do
anything - I want to, but I've got no energy."
"The flu is like that. You've been lucky enough to escape its grips for so long. Did you forget
to have your flu shot?"
Kerry ran her mind back over the past few weeks. She would normally get her flu shot at the
beginning of November. She gave a frustrated groan. When would the tangled web of intrusion by her
attacker stop? "I must have forgotten," she replied.
"It's not like you to forget something like that. You were always reminding me and the rest of
the staff in the ER to make sure we had our shots."
"As I said, there's a first time for everything." Kerry deflected her query and put the half empty
glass on the coffee table. She moved her legs up onto the couch and curled into a comfortable position
against the pillows.
"What meds have they got you on?" Jeanie pulled the afghan up over Kerry's legs, before
Kerry had a chance to do it for herself.
"Symmetrel. 200 mg per day. I've also been taking Tylenol for the nausea and headaches."
"Do you need anything now?"
"No. I think I'll just rest."
"Okay. I'll finish sorting out the groceries and I'll cook something for you to eat later."
"You don't have to do that."
"I know. But I want to."
Kerry caught Jeanie's hand as she went to move away and gave it a squeeze, then smiled at
her. "Thanks, Jeanie. You're a great friend."
End Part 11