Hello to all my faithful readers! This chapter should answer at least one big question, but don't get comfortable, there's an interesting turn of events on the way ;) Thanks to everyone for your encouraging words. Some made me laugh pretty hard. For example, Fyre's request to have Cruz die from a freak infection LOL! So please keep on reviewing, it keeps me going. And really, thanks for all your wonderfully supportive comments.
Joey
-The Hours After-
Chapter 5
"I DO NOT want HIM in here! Not anywhere near me, my wife, or my kids!"
"Well, I'm sorry sir, but he needs to be here in the ICU just as much as your wife does."
"He's the reason she's in here in the first place!"
"Mr. Yokas, you're going to have to take a deep breath and calm down, or I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
Fred. Now there's something I never want to wake up to again. I don't know how Faith does it. She thinks I overreact? The guy is like one big, bald, nuclear time-bomb. I fear that if I open my eyes, he'll be the first thing that will come into focus and I'll have nightmares about his ugly mug for weeks.
"Can he at least go to the other end? I don't want my wife waking up and seeing him."
"Here." I can hear a curtain being whipped across a rod. "It's the closest thing I can give you to a private room right now.
I can hear Fred chuckle slightly and mumble, "Great, just great."
Faith. She must be close to me. I have to see her for myself, just to make sure she's okay. I just want to tell her how sorry I am. Tell her how much she means to me and that I would never intentionally do anything to hurt her.
I feel something or someone brush against my arm. I want to ask them what's going on - why am I here? I try to swallow, but the action causes me to gag as I am suddenly reminded of the tube that is in my throat.
"Officer Boscorelli, just relax, there's a tube down your throat that's hooked up to a machine that is breathing for you. Try not to fight it."
I open my eyes a crack and am met by the gaze of an elderly nurse. She cups her fingers around mine.
"I want you to try to squeeze my hand."
Normally, I would make some crack about her trying to hit on me, but it's not really the time or place.
I try to send the signal to my right hand, but I'm not sure if it's actually doing anything.
"Good. Okay, now I want you to squeeze my hand once if you're in pain and twice if you're not."
Pain… hmm, I guess I have to think about that one. I remember being in a lot of pain, but I don't think that's the word I would use to describe what I'm feeling right now. Uncomfortable is more like it. It feels like I have been lying on a cement floor in an awkward position for a very long time.
I send the signal for two squeezes and look at her face to see if she has actually received it.
"Okay. I'm going be asking you that a lot, so remember our little code." She winks at me and fiddles with my IV.
There are two other doctors standing to my right, talking quietly and looking over what I assume is my chart. One looks as though he's 12, and I wonder if he's here on some sort of 'take your child to work' day. I quickly reassess my opinion when he presses his stethoscope into my ribs and starts tapping on my sternum with his index finger. He turns back to the elder doctor and they share a few more, very quiet words.
"Officer," the younger one has turned around to address me in a subdued voice, "we ran another scan of your brain and there doesn't appear to be any further damage. It appears as though you are suffering from the post effects of a concussion in addition to something else." He pauses, looks back to the other doctor, who is old enough to be little Doogie's father, and continues. "We are currently running some more tests on your blood to see if there is anything that can tip us off as to what is ailing you. I want you to think back over the past couple weeks. Did you come into contact with anything suspicious, or any other person that was extremely ill? I know that you can only give us yes or no answers, but if you do recall something, we can at least try to guess and you can confirm or deny."
Anything suspicious? My whole life is one big suspicious operation. I deal with the biggest jag-offs out there, and as far as I'm concerned, everyone has the potential to be a suspicious creep.
"If anything is coming to mind, I want you to squeeze Nurse Carson's hand."
I don't know. I think it's suspicious that you're apparently old enough to be my doctor, but besides that, nothing is coming to mind.
Little Doogie glances over to the nurse who is holding my hand. She shakes her head 'no'.
"Dr. Grander?" I guess little Doogie has a name after all. A nurse is approaching him with a piece of paper, "Mr. Boscorelli's labs are back."
Dr. Grander examines the paper for what seems like an eternity. Before he can address me, there is a soft knock on the door. I can't see who is because, well, I can't lift my head, but the visitor receives smiles and nods from the two doctors and Nurse Carson.
"Hey, Bosco." Ty has moved into my line of limited vision. "How ya doin', man?"
At some point, that question has become just plain aggravating. He's talking quietly like the doctors were. Either they all think I'll break if they talk too loud, or there are other patients in this room that are sleeping - I'm going to guess the latter.
"The repeat lab tests have revealed a continual drop in his platelet count and an elevated hematocrit and a left-shift leukocytosis."
The doctors make eye-contact, and Dr. Grander turns towards Ty, "Do you know Officer Boscorelli well?"
Davis raises his eyebrows and nods, "Yeah, I mean, we work together at the 55th precinct."
"What kind of conditions has Officer Boscorelli been working in? Are they sanitary?"
Ty laughs slightly and shakes his head, "As far as I know, he's been busting up meth labs and crack houses. I'm under the impression that those people aren't too concerned about the sterility of their living conditions. Why, you think that's what's making him sick?"
"It's hard to say, I don't want to make any judgments just yet, but what you said is supporting my hunch. June," he turns to face Nurse Carson, "I'm going to send out for a serum test on Officer Boscorelli, can you get the lab on the phone for me? I'm going to have to have a few words with them so they can run some specific tests."
"Absolutely," she replies as she gently places my hand back on the gurney.
He turns back to Davis, whose eyes are wide with confusion.
"Like I said," Dr. Grander repeats, "it's just a hunch."
"I think you're onto something here," the elderly doctor speaks up, "I think they would have caught it earlier too if that concussion he sustained hadn't thrown them so far off track."
"I'm not going to jump to conclusions, but it seems so obvious now."
I am so lost. As far as I'm concerned, they could be talking in German and I would have the same level of comprehension. I feel like I'm a guinea pig in some sort of medical guessing game. However, the older doc did say that Doogie might be onto something. I glance over to Davis who has backed up so he can see what lies on the other side of that privacy curtain that's acting as Fred's protective wall from the evil force of 'Bosco'.
"How's she doing?" I'm assuming he's talking to Fred.
"She could be better, but I don't know - the doctors say she'll be fine. It's just a waiting game now, until she wakes up."
Fred sounds a lot more submissive than he did earlier. Maybe he's a nice guy around everyone else but me. Wouldn't surprise me too much, I guess.
I can feel myself beginning to slip again. For a while I was in that 'uncomfortable' stage, but the burning is continually building in my chest and searing through my temples. The tube has left my mouth dry and there is nothing that I would like more than a glass of water. Anything cold to help soothe my mangled throat.
"I've got the lab on the phone for you, Dr. Grander," Nurse Carson calls out as she's walking by the door.
"Thanks," he says as he places my chart on my gurney and strolls out, directly followed by the older doc.
I wish Fred would leave so Davis could let me see Faith. I just want to see her with my own eyes- prove to myself she's okay. Davis walks over and sits on the stool beside my bed.
"She looks good, Bos," he's whispering so Fred can't hear us. I blink in appreciation of the update. I guess that Davis has always had a slight understanding of what I'm thinking. A big step up on a lot of the others, especially Sully.
I've gone from tired to exhausted. I've begun to lose track of how long or often I sleep. It feels like a year has passed since that horrible scene took place, but I we have yet to reach the 24 hour mark. The rhythmic pumping of air that has become my life source is like the ticking of a watch, counting the seconds until I fall back into that world of darkness. I don't want to sleep, I want to wait like everyone else. And as horrible as I feel, I realize that if I wasn't in such rough shape, I wouldn't be allowed anywhere near Faith. Then again, I would be able to speak and give a statement that could possibly prevent her from being considered a temporary criminal. Sleep will have to wait. I'll try my damned hardest to stay awake until I hear her voice. Until I know she can save herself.
The little doc is reproaching my side, ignoring me as he jots some information onto my chart from the monitor at my bedside.
"Dr. Grander," Nurse Carson announces her entrance, "They ran the serology."
They both stand frozen for a second, or maybe I am just anticipating the potential answers, making everything seem like slow motion.
"SNV," she states simply.
I haven't got a clue if that's good, bad or indifferent.
"HPS?"
She nods, "You were right."
Thanks for the acronyms, but that means absolutely nothing to me. Dr. Grander doesn't waste anytime explaining, and instead jumps right into action.
"Get him started on ribavirin and check his renal functioning so we can rule out HFRS. I'll start up a platelet transfusion."
The activity around me is dizzying. The crowd clears for a second and I see Davis, who happens to be standing in front of Fred. Both are watching the medical circus in fascinated confusion.
"Wha… What does that mean? What's going on?" Davis is stammering and obviously overwhelmed by the sudden flurry of activity brought on by 6 simple letters.
A nurse approaches him, "HPS - Hanta virus Pulmonary Syndrome. It's an airborne virus that is usually carried by rodents. If your friend had been in infested areas, as I can imagine some drug houses would be, it could have been easily contracted."
Davis runs his hand over his face, "Well, is it treatable? Will he be okay?"
"There's no treatment, we can just do our best to keep his oxygen and blood levels in equilibrium and hope he can fight it off."
"Hope? Does that mean… Can this be fatal?"
"It can be, but when caught early enough and treated properly with respiratory support, the fatality rate is low."
"Is it contagious? Should he be in here?"
Leave it to Fred to think of that one.
"No, it's not known to be contagious from human to human," she pauses for a second as Nurse Carson flies by with a needle of God-knows-what to inject into my arm. "I'm going to have to ask you to back up, please."
Fred slowly backs onto his side of the curtain while Davis stands still, a shocked expression on his face. He makes eye contact with me and nods, "Hold on, Bosco, hold on."
I'm swaying again. All the activity is making my quest to stay awake that much harder. I can feel prick after prick of needles entering my arm. Normally, that would be enough to throw me over the edge, but as of this moment, I've already hit the ground. It can't really get any worse. I can remember being sick as a child, and making a solemn prayer to God to be on my best behavior if I never had to feel so dreadful ever again. I would kill to feel that way right now. Funny how being in an agonizing situation can change your impression of what 'hell' feels like. Right now, I'm pretty sure I'm there.
My thoughts are interrupted by an anxious voice coming from the other side of the curtain.
"Doctor! I need a doctor in here!"
My heart skips a beat as I hear Fred's plea.
"What's going on?" the older doctor calls out as he is runnning towards Fred's voice. I follow him with my eyes until he disappears behind the curtain.
"She's waking up," Fred's voice cracks as he is obviously close to tears.
For once, I'm with you Fred.
TBC. I suppose I could be persuaded to get another chapter up by midweek…. ;) Keep me updated on your thoughts and opinions!
Joey
-The Hours After-
Chapter 5
"I DO NOT want HIM in here! Not anywhere near me, my wife, or my kids!"
"Well, I'm sorry sir, but he needs to be here in the ICU just as much as your wife does."
"He's the reason she's in here in the first place!"
"Mr. Yokas, you're going to have to take a deep breath and calm down, or I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
Fred. Now there's something I never want to wake up to again. I don't know how Faith does it. She thinks I overreact? The guy is like one big, bald, nuclear time-bomb. I fear that if I open my eyes, he'll be the first thing that will come into focus and I'll have nightmares about his ugly mug for weeks.
"Can he at least go to the other end? I don't want my wife waking up and seeing him."
"Here." I can hear a curtain being whipped across a rod. "It's the closest thing I can give you to a private room right now.
I can hear Fred chuckle slightly and mumble, "Great, just great."
Faith. She must be close to me. I have to see her for myself, just to make sure she's okay. I just want to tell her how sorry I am. Tell her how much she means to me and that I would never intentionally do anything to hurt her.
I feel something or someone brush against my arm. I want to ask them what's going on - why am I here? I try to swallow, but the action causes me to gag as I am suddenly reminded of the tube that is in my throat.
"Officer Boscorelli, just relax, there's a tube down your throat that's hooked up to a machine that is breathing for you. Try not to fight it."
I open my eyes a crack and am met by the gaze of an elderly nurse. She cups her fingers around mine.
"I want you to try to squeeze my hand."
Normally, I would make some crack about her trying to hit on me, but it's not really the time or place.
I try to send the signal to my right hand, but I'm not sure if it's actually doing anything.
"Good. Okay, now I want you to squeeze my hand once if you're in pain and twice if you're not."
Pain… hmm, I guess I have to think about that one. I remember being in a lot of pain, but I don't think that's the word I would use to describe what I'm feeling right now. Uncomfortable is more like it. It feels like I have been lying on a cement floor in an awkward position for a very long time.
I send the signal for two squeezes and look at her face to see if she has actually received it.
"Okay. I'm going be asking you that a lot, so remember our little code." She winks at me and fiddles with my IV.
There are two other doctors standing to my right, talking quietly and looking over what I assume is my chart. One looks as though he's 12, and I wonder if he's here on some sort of 'take your child to work' day. I quickly reassess my opinion when he presses his stethoscope into my ribs and starts tapping on my sternum with his index finger. He turns back to the elder doctor and they share a few more, very quiet words.
"Officer," the younger one has turned around to address me in a subdued voice, "we ran another scan of your brain and there doesn't appear to be any further damage. It appears as though you are suffering from the post effects of a concussion in addition to something else." He pauses, looks back to the other doctor, who is old enough to be little Doogie's father, and continues. "We are currently running some more tests on your blood to see if there is anything that can tip us off as to what is ailing you. I want you to think back over the past couple weeks. Did you come into contact with anything suspicious, or any other person that was extremely ill? I know that you can only give us yes or no answers, but if you do recall something, we can at least try to guess and you can confirm or deny."
Anything suspicious? My whole life is one big suspicious operation. I deal with the biggest jag-offs out there, and as far as I'm concerned, everyone has the potential to be a suspicious creep.
"If anything is coming to mind, I want you to squeeze Nurse Carson's hand."
I don't know. I think it's suspicious that you're apparently old enough to be my doctor, but besides that, nothing is coming to mind.
Little Doogie glances over to the nurse who is holding my hand. She shakes her head 'no'.
"Dr. Grander?" I guess little Doogie has a name after all. A nurse is approaching him with a piece of paper, "Mr. Boscorelli's labs are back."
Dr. Grander examines the paper for what seems like an eternity. Before he can address me, there is a soft knock on the door. I can't see who is because, well, I can't lift my head, but the visitor receives smiles and nods from the two doctors and Nurse Carson.
"Hey, Bosco." Ty has moved into my line of limited vision. "How ya doin', man?"
At some point, that question has become just plain aggravating. He's talking quietly like the doctors were. Either they all think I'll break if they talk too loud, or there are other patients in this room that are sleeping - I'm going to guess the latter.
"The repeat lab tests have revealed a continual drop in his platelet count and an elevated hematocrit and a left-shift leukocytosis."
The doctors make eye-contact, and Dr. Grander turns towards Ty, "Do you know Officer Boscorelli well?"
Davis raises his eyebrows and nods, "Yeah, I mean, we work together at the 55th precinct."
"What kind of conditions has Officer Boscorelli been working in? Are they sanitary?"
Ty laughs slightly and shakes his head, "As far as I know, he's been busting up meth labs and crack houses. I'm under the impression that those people aren't too concerned about the sterility of their living conditions. Why, you think that's what's making him sick?"
"It's hard to say, I don't want to make any judgments just yet, but what you said is supporting my hunch. June," he turns to face Nurse Carson, "I'm going to send out for a serum test on Officer Boscorelli, can you get the lab on the phone for me? I'm going to have to have a few words with them so they can run some specific tests."
"Absolutely," she replies as she gently places my hand back on the gurney.
He turns back to Davis, whose eyes are wide with confusion.
"Like I said," Dr. Grander repeats, "it's just a hunch."
"I think you're onto something here," the elderly doctor speaks up, "I think they would have caught it earlier too if that concussion he sustained hadn't thrown them so far off track."
"I'm not going to jump to conclusions, but it seems so obvious now."
I am so lost. As far as I'm concerned, they could be talking in German and I would have the same level of comprehension. I feel like I'm a guinea pig in some sort of medical guessing game. However, the older doc did say that Doogie might be onto something. I glance over to Davis who has backed up so he can see what lies on the other side of that privacy curtain that's acting as Fred's protective wall from the evil force of 'Bosco'.
"How's she doing?" I'm assuming he's talking to Fred.
"She could be better, but I don't know - the doctors say she'll be fine. It's just a waiting game now, until she wakes up."
Fred sounds a lot more submissive than he did earlier. Maybe he's a nice guy around everyone else but me. Wouldn't surprise me too much, I guess.
I can feel myself beginning to slip again. For a while I was in that 'uncomfortable' stage, but the burning is continually building in my chest and searing through my temples. The tube has left my mouth dry and there is nothing that I would like more than a glass of water. Anything cold to help soothe my mangled throat.
"I've got the lab on the phone for you, Dr. Grander," Nurse Carson calls out as she's walking by the door.
"Thanks," he says as he places my chart on my gurney and strolls out, directly followed by the older doc.
I wish Fred would leave so Davis could let me see Faith. I just want to see her with my own eyes- prove to myself she's okay. Davis walks over and sits on the stool beside my bed.
"She looks good, Bos," he's whispering so Fred can't hear us. I blink in appreciation of the update. I guess that Davis has always had a slight understanding of what I'm thinking. A big step up on a lot of the others, especially Sully.
I've gone from tired to exhausted. I've begun to lose track of how long or often I sleep. It feels like a year has passed since that horrible scene took place, but I we have yet to reach the 24 hour mark. The rhythmic pumping of air that has become my life source is like the ticking of a watch, counting the seconds until I fall back into that world of darkness. I don't want to sleep, I want to wait like everyone else. And as horrible as I feel, I realize that if I wasn't in such rough shape, I wouldn't be allowed anywhere near Faith. Then again, I would be able to speak and give a statement that could possibly prevent her from being considered a temporary criminal. Sleep will have to wait. I'll try my damned hardest to stay awake until I hear her voice. Until I know she can save herself.
The little doc is reproaching my side, ignoring me as he jots some information onto my chart from the monitor at my bedside.
"Dr. Grander," Nurse Carson announces her entrance, "They ran the serology."
They both stand frozen for a second, or maybe I am just anticipating the potential answers, making everything seem like slow motion.
"SNV," she states simply.
I haven't got a clue if that's good, bad or indifferent.
"HPS?"
She nods, "You were right."
Thanks for the acronyms, but that means absolutely nothing to me. Dr. Grander doesn't waste anytime explaining, and instead jumps right into action.
"Get him started on ribavirin and check his renal functioning so we can rule out HFRS. I'll start up a platelet transfusion."
The activity around me is dizzying. The crowd clears for a second and I see Davis, who happens to be standing in front of Fred. Both are watching the medical circus in fascinated confusion.
"Wha… What does that mean? What's going on?" Davis is stammering and obviously overwhelmed by the sudden flurry of activity brought on by 6 simple letters.
A nurse approaches him, "HPS - Hanta virus Pulmonary Syndrome. It's an airborne virus that is usually carried by rodents. If your friend had been in infested areas, as I can imagine some drug houses would be, it could have been easily contracted."
Davis runs his hand over his face, "Well, is it treatable? Will he be okay?"
"There's no treatment, we can just do our best to keep his oxygen and blood levels in equilibrium and hope he can fight it off."
"Hope? Does that mean… Can this be fatal?"
"It can be, but when caught early enough and treated properly with respiratory support, the fatality rate is low."
"Is it contagious? Should he be in here?"
Leave it to Fred to think of that one.
"No, it's not known to be contagious from human to human," she pauses for a second as Nurse Carson flies by with a needle of God-knows-what to inject into my arm. "I'm going to have to ask you to back up, please."
Fred slowly backs onto his side of the curtain while Davis stands still, a shocked expression on his face. He makes eye contact with me and nods, "Hold on, Bosco, hold on."
I'm swaying again. All the activity is making my quest to stay awake that much harder. I can feel prick after prick of needles entering my arm. Normally, that would be enough to throw me over the edge, but as of this moment, I've already hit the ground. It can't really get any worse. I can remember being sick as a child, and making a solemn prayer to God to be on my best behavior if I never had to feel so dreadful ever again. I would kill to feel that way right now. Funny how being in an agonizing situation can change your impression of what 'hell' feels like. Right now, I'm pretty sure I'm there.
My thoughts are interrupted by an anxious voice coming from the other side of the curtain.
"Doctor! I need a doctor in here!"
My heart skips a beat as I hear Fred's plea.
"What's going on?" the older doctor calls out as he is runnning towards Fred's voice. I follow him with my eyes until he disappears behind the curtain.
"She's waking up," Fred's voice cracks as he is obviously close to tears.
For once, I'm with you Fred.
TBC. I suppose I could be persuaded to get another chapter up by midweek…. ;) Keep me updated on your thoughts and opinions!