(Chapter 8. August 24. CGH. 11 am.)

Olivia limped carefully down the halls of Community General. Seven hours on her feet in OR the other day had been a huge mistake for her sore ankle but she refused to go back on the crutches now. Steve had slept most of the next couple of days, and to avoid arguing with Mark, she had been limiting her visits to his room as much as was practical. Soon she would have to sit down and discuss physical therapy, pain management, and a rehabilitation facility with Steve and his dad, but for now, she just wanted to look in on her newest patient before heading to her office for her afternoon appointments.

As she neared the door of Steve's room, she heard what she thought was a stifled sob. She peeked around the corner and what she saw made something twist in her heart. Steve, obviously in pain, was straining to reach the call button hanging from his bedrail. The body cast went up over his shoulders and covered his upper arms. He could only lift his head and bend his arms at the elbow. His face contorted with the effort and the muscles and tendons in his neck stood out as he struggled. No matter how hard he tried, he would never reach the call button. It was impossibly far away.

Then he collapsed back against the pillows. He didn't notice her watching. "Oh, God," he sobbed quietly. Then he took a couple of calming breaths and tried again. Again, he failed. He moaned in pure agony, and steeled himself for another try.

Before he could make another attempt, Olivia was at his side, holding his hand. "I've got to tell you," she said in a comforting tone, "you sure have spirit. That will make a big difference in your recovery. Now, what do you need?"

Everything came out in a jumble. "My nose itches, and I'm thirsty, and I'm hungry, and I'm so bored, and it's been hours since I've seen anybody." He sniffed deeply and blinked back tears. "I need a handkerchief, and I'm just so damned lonely, and I have to pee."

"Well," Olivia said, forgiving the profanity, "First things first." She gently scratched his nose for him. Then she discretely lifted the blankets and held a urinal in place for him. When he had finished, she asked, "Better?"

Steve took a deep, shaky breath and said, "Much."

She checked the quantity of urine in the container and marked it on the chart before dumping it into the toilet in the adjoining bathroom.

"Lunch will be here in about an hour," she said kindly as she washed her hands. She poured him a glass of water and held the straw to his lips. "Can you wait that long?"

Steve took a sip and nodded. "I guess," he sounded a little more composed.

She held a tissue for him and said, "Blow."

He did.

"Now, take a couple deep breaths and try to calm down." She waited patiently as he did so; then she asked, "Feel better?"

Steve nodded, but his blue eyes filled with tears again and he said weakly, "No." He shook his head and wept. "I'm sorry."

Olivia went over to the door, shut, and locked it. Then she sat on the bed beside him and held his hand. She gently stroked the back of his arm as she said, "Don't be sorry. It's ok. Don't worry. You don't have to feel better right now. If you want to be miserable for a little longer, that's all right. You've been through a lot, and you've got the right. Just give it some time."

Steve struggled to regain control of himself, but every time he got close, his eyes filled with tears, his breath caught in his chest, and he started to weep again. Olivia continued to soothe him, rubbing the back of his hand, stroking his hair, catching his tears with a tissue before they ran down into his ears, and talking to him constantly.

"It's all right, Steve," she crooned. "I know you're feeling a little rough right now. It'll get better. Just be patient."

"I'm scared, Liv," he confided, "and it hurts, and I feel so damned helpless." He started to sob in earnest now.

"That's it, just let go," she encouraged him.

"Why did this happen to me?" he wailed.

"It's ok, Steve. I know it's hard," she murmured. "I don't know why this happened, Steve. Sometimes we never see God's plan in the things that happen to us. But you'll get through it and be stronger for it. You'll be feeling better soon, but for now, for right now, you don't have to be brave or strong or tough. It's ok to be scared and lonely, even angry. You don't have to put up a front and act like everything's ok. For now, it's just you and me, and I won't tell anyone. Just let it all go."

Steve wept bitterly for several more minutes as Olivia softly whispered words of encouragement to him. Finally, the storm passed. He took one, last, deep shaky breath, closed his eyes, swallowed and said, "I'm ok, now."

Olivia laid a hand on his cheek and asked, "You're sure?"

He opened his eyes, nodded, and said, "Yeah, I'm sure."

"Good," she said brightly. Then she patted his hand and said, "Let's get you cleaned up." She held a tissue for him to blow his nose again, washed his face for him and combed his hair, smoothed some lotion onto his hands and arms. "Hospitals are so dry," she said. "I always feel itchy if I don't use lotion. Would you like a shave?"

"That would feel good," Steve agreed. "Do you have the time?"

Olivia glanced at her wrist, then searched for the clock and said, "Um, yeah, just enough."

"You know, you don't have to do this."

"Maybe I want to," she smiled, "I'll be right back." It took her a few minutes to locate a razor, shaving foam and a basin. While she was out, she spoke to the nurses about checking on their patients more often. "I'm not going to get mean and nasty about it this time, but how do you think it feels? And how would you feel if it was your friend or your child?" When she came back, Mark was there.

"Dr. Sloan," Olivia said, carefully.

"Dr. Regis." Mark's response was equally guarded.

"I was hoping to have Steve looking his best by the time you dropped in, but now that you're here...Steve, do you want your dad to do this?"

"Uh, I don't know, Liv," Steve answered, confused by the new tension in the room, "I guess if you're busy and he wouldn't mind it would be ok. Dad?"

"Yeah, Steve, I'll be glad to take care of it."

Olivia placed the shaving supplies on the bedside table, patted the back of Steve's hand, and told him, "I have some ideas that might make you a little more comfortable. I'll be back around dinnertime to see what I can do, ok?"

"Ok, Liv. See you then."

Steve and Mark watched as Olivia walked out. When he was sure she was gone, Steve asked, "Ok, Dad, what's up?"

"What do you mean, Steve?"

"Don't give me that act, Dad. The temperature in this room dropped ten degrees when she walked in and saw you here. What's going on between the two of you?"

Mark started to lather his son's face. "Just a difference of professional opinion, son. Nothing for you to worry about."

"If it's about me, it's something for me to worry about, Dad."

"Will you just stop talking so I can get this done?"





Olivia saw her last patient at four. By five, she had finished her shopping and run by her house for a few things. Then she stopped by BBQ Bob's for a special treat for Steve. She knew the ribs would be messy, but she also hoped they would lift his spirits. As she walked into Steve's room at six, Mark was just starting to feed him the hospital dinner.

"Put that slop aside!" she said, "I bring the food of the gods!"

Without a word, Mark took the tray and carried it out.

Steve inhaled the aroma deeply, "Ahhhh, come to papa."

"In a minute. First, I told you I had some things in mind to make you more comfortable," Olivia told him.

Steve looked around to see his father had disappeared. "You know, you and my dad haven't said more than two words to each other in the past few days. What's up?"

"We've just had a disagreement, Steve. No big deal."

"If it's no big deal, why aren't you two talking, and why won't either of you tell me about it?"

"Maybe because it's our business and not yours."

Just then Mark came in and silently took a chair. Steve looked from his dad to Olivia, but didn't say another word.

Mark watched as Olivia placed a small shopping bag on the bedside table and began taking an odd assortment of items out of it. First, there was a loop of nylon webbing with a clip at the end. Then she pulled out a roll of clear flexible tubing and a small square of Velcro tape. Finally, she brought out a deck of cards and a package of yellow rubbery adhesive of the sort that people sometimes used to hang posters and signs on the wall.

"Come on, Liv. I want my ribs."

"Oh, just enjoy the anticipation for a minute. Don't you know that's half the pleasure of a good meal? Give me your hand."

Steve held up his hand, and she slipped the loop of webbing around his wrist. Then she opened the clip and slipped the cord of the call button through it. "Now when you need something, you can let the nurse know. No more struggling for that blasted button."

Olivia cast a glance at Mark, but his gaze didn't reveal anything. She shrugged and turned her complete attention to her patient.

She held up the deck of cards and said, "Maybe after dinner I'll let you win at poker."

"You'll let me, huh?"

"Well, yeah. That's the only way you will win, you know."

Next, she took the TV remote, peeled the backing off one side of the Velcro tape, and stuck it to the remote. She peeled the backing off the other side of the tape and handed the remote to Steve. "I just love Velcro. When it's stuck, it's stuck for good, so make sure it's in a comfortable place before you stick it fast."

"Uh, what am I sticking it to?"

"Duh. Your cast. That way it's right there handy and it can't slip out of your reach."

"Oh! Hey, that's pretty clever. What do you think, Dad?"

Mark nodded, but said nothing.

Mark watched with interest as Olivia put her last contraption together. First, she filled Steve's water pitcher and set it on the bedside table. Then she lowered the table as far as it would go. "If we create a siphon, you're going to have a mess." She fed the clear tubing into the pitcher, and measured a length from the pitcher to a point on Steve's chest. She cut it several inches longer; then used it to measure a second length of tubing. "Now we can have one to use and one to wash."

She took some of the adhesive out of the package, rolled it into a ball, and stuck it to Steve's cast. She stuck the tubing to the adhesive and folded the adhesive over, leaving about an inch of tubing sticking out on one end and the long end going back to the water pitcher. Finally, she took a flexible straw from the bag of ribs, fit it into the tubing, and bent the other end toward Steve's mouth.

"Try it," she commanded.

Steve took a sip, and sighed, "Almost perfect."

"Almost?"

"Well, I'd prefer a beer to go with the ribs."

Olivia laughed, "Not gonna happen, handsome."

"Dad, you gotta admit, this is pure genius."

This time Mark nodded and smiled. He hadn't seen his son in such high spirits since before the shooting.

Steve held up his hands with the call button and the remote control, and he nodded toward the straw. "This means a lot, Liv," he said with deep sincerity. "I really, really appreciate it."

She knocked on the plaster covering his chest. "Don't give it another thought. I was glad to do it. Now, what about those ribs?"

"Sounds good to me. Dad, you want some?"

"No, son, I'm fine, thanks."

Olivia had planned ahead for this meal. She wanted to make it special. She moved the hospital water pitcher, took the straw away, and put a checkered tablecloth on the little bedside table along with a candle in a jar and a carnation in a bud vase. She set out real china and poured Steve's iced tea from the paper cup into a real glass. She put the ribs on the plate along with coleslaw and baked beans.

"Now," Olivia told him, "You better enjoy this, and make it last, because beginning tomorrow, you're on that special diet I told you about to help those bones heal faster. You'll be eating some dairy foods and lots of beans and green veggies that are high in absorbable calcium, and magnesium, but not too much phosphorus. Coffee, tea, and soda will be out and your protein intake will be carefully monitored because they all cause the body to excrete calcium."

"I know, I know. You explained it all to me before. Just give me some of those ribs before they get cold."

For the next half hour, Olivia fed Steve bites of ribs and beans and slaw, making small talk and asking him questions about the restaurant all the while. As Mark watched the exchange, he realized that this young woman did genuinely care about his son. Maybe she shouldn't have made that foolish promise, but she was determined to keep it. Somehow, he knew she intended to be there for Steve as long as he needed her. His son might never recover completely, but she would make sure he was ok regardless.

Mark watched as Olivia cleaned up the remains of the meal. She kept up a continuous commentary as she packed away the candle, plate, silverware, tablecloth, and glass, but she left the bud vase on the table where Steve could see it. Then she washed Steve's face, brushed and flossed his teeth, and combed his hair for him, telling amusing anecdotes about people and events around the hospital as she did. She did an amazing impression of one of the hospital's administrators that forced even Mark to smile. She kept Steve laughing as she worked, and Mark was glad to see his son enjoying her company.

Finally, Steve looked over at him, and said, "You know, I haven't been ignoring you, Dad. I was just hoping you'd find something to say to Olivia."

"Oh, I have something to say all right," Mark agreed seriously.

Olivia, who had been setting up the drinking apparatus with the water pitcher, froze and looked at him half in dread, half in expectation.

Mark drew a deep breath and stared off into space. "I just want to say that I understand why she did what she did." He looked toward the ceiling, "I respect her decision." Finally, he looked Olivia in the eye and smiled, "And I trust her judgment."

Steve looked to Olivia and saw one of her soft, sweet smiles creep over her face and light up her eyes. "Thanks, Mark. Thank you very much."

Steve looked from his father to Olivia several times. "Will one of you please tell me what this is all about, now?"

By some unspoken communication, they both agreed on the answer. In unison, they told him, "No."