Chapter three, The Recovery
Gil was just stepping out of the shower when the telephone rang. Damn it. I'll be there in thirty minutes. Can't they give me any peace?
"Hello?"
"Hi, um, it's me," Sara had no idea how to approach this.
"Is everything all right?" Grissom's brow furrowed. She sounds upset.
"Could you, uh…meet me at the hospital? University Med, 6th floor waiting room?"
"I'm supposed to be at work in thirty minutes Sara."
"It's important," Gil thought he heard her voice catch.
"Okay, give me twenty minutes or so."
Sara reached the hospital in about ten minutes, checking in on Jane—er, Ruth—before finding a seat in the waiting room. She had not given the older woman any reason to suspect that she had identified her. There was still a small chance that she could be wrong. Her stomach was rolling when Grissom appeared around the corner.
"What's up?"
"I, um, I, I think I might have ID'd my Jane Doe."
"And?"
"I think she's your mom," Sara choked out in a whisper.
Gil's expression was impossible to interpret at that moment. He spoke more harshly than he intended.
"Where?"
Sara pointed, "Room 616, Pod D"
He said nothing; he stormed down the hall, throwing the door open and stopped just inside Jane Doe's door. The sight of the woman in the bed overwhelmed him. She had multiple intravenous lines, a catheter and monitor wires. She also had the ventilator and associated tubing. But there, in the mess of tangled wires and tubes, he saw his mother. He sat in the bedside chair that Sara had vacated only minutes before and reached out to touch Ruth's face. She stirred, and her eyes grew large as she saw her son sitting beside her.
Sara quietly closed the door and allowed them their privacy. She made her way to the nurses' station and proceeded to inform the staff that their Jane Doe was no longer a Jane Doe.
A short time later Grissom emerged, aware that the medical team would need any pertinent medical information. Likewise, he wanted them to tell him her condition.
"Do you want me to go back to the lab?" Sara asked, "Give you privacy? Maybe you don't want me to know this stuff. Beyond what I already know because of the case."
"No, no, it's okay," Gil smiled at her, though still visibly shaken.
The doctor carefully explained the situation with the concussion, the swelling around the spinal cord, and their concern over her apparent lack of responsiveness at times.
"Unresponsive?" Grissom sought clarification.
"Sometimes," the intern explained, "when we go into room she doesn't seem to notice. Until we touch her."
"She's deaf," Grissom informed him matter-of-factly
"Deaf? For how long?"
"Forty years," Gil stole a glance at Sara. "She has otosclerosis. She reads lips very well. Look at her when you speak to her and you won't have a problem. Flip the light switch when you enter the room so she'll know you're there."
Sara listened attentively, as the events of the last two years became clearer.
When Grissom finished his discussion with the doctors, he returned to his mother's room. Sara decided she should go to the lab. Hopefully she could wrap up the case, at least until Mrs. Petersen was able to communicate and could give them some hint about her assailant.
On her arrival, she updated Catherine on Grissom's absence and offered to take a new case now that this one was all but closed. Catherine said little and did not re-assign her. Sara retreated to the break room to catch up on paperwork. How she hated paperwork! Crossing Ts and dotting Is just wasn't her thing. She would much rather be out in the field.
*****************************
The next few days passed in a blur. Scuttlebutt around the lab was that Grissom's mother was doing well; the swelling had subsided and she was beginning to regain her strength. Sara had purposely avoided visiting out of concern she would feel she was intruding. Wednesday afternoon, she was startled from her sleep by the ring of the telephone. "Hello?"
"Sara, hi, it's me," Grissom began.
"Hi."
"I'm sorry if I woke you…"
"No, it's okay."
"If you don't mind, could you stop by the hospital on your way to work tonight? My mom really wants to see you."
"Um…all right."
"Thanks. I'll see you later."
"Okay, bye."
Entering the hospital room, Sara was unprepared for the sight before her. The head of Ruth's bed had been raised considerably, allowing a fairly comfortable upright position. The ventilator continued to hum at the bedside, but Ruth exhibited deliberate, although weak, movements of her hands and arms. She didn't at all resemble the woman Sara had seen just a few days ago. On Sara's arrival, Grissom tapped his mother on the shoulder and pointed toward the door. Ruth turned, saw Sara, and motioned for the brunette to approach.
"Hello," Ruth signed.
"Hello," Sara returned the gesture. Embarrassed, she added verbally, "That's about all I know."
Grissom stepped forward to make the formal introduction. "Mom, I'd like you to meet Sara Sidle," he both spoke and signed. "Sara, this is my mom, Ruth Petersen."
Ruth grabbed a notepad from the bedside table and began writing diligently. Her handwriting was poor due to her persistent muscle weakness, but Sara was able to read it nonetheless. "I wanted to thank you," the note read.
"You don't have to thank me."
"Yes, I do," Ruth scribbled. "I felt very alone. When you came to visit, I knew that someone cared. You made me feel like a person, not a statistic."
"I…I was just doing my job," Sara protested modestly.
"You had to fight for the right to do your job, Sara. I'm grateful to you, too," Grissom joined. "You reminded that it's wrong to give one vic priority over another… I lost sight of that somewhere along the line."
"You're welcome," Sara surrendered. "Both of you. I'd really better be off to work now. I'll see you later." With a nervous smile, she was gone from the room.
Ruth continued to recover at a rapid pace. She was soon discharged form the hospital and staying with Gil. One night in the break room, before giving assignments, Grissom made an announcement, "My mother is going home to California next week and is insistent on meeting all of you before she goes. In fact, she's insisting I invite everyone to a cookout at my house Saturday. Late afternoon so that you can sleep before and work after." After securing unanimous acceptance of his "invitation", he proceeded to assign the night's caseload.
TBC