Chapter 6
About five hours later Mark was awakened by a sound coming from Steve's bed. He quickly moved over to his son's side and placed his hand over the warm hand that lay so still. He watched with anticipation as Steve tried to open his eyes. The effort was a struggle and for a minute it seemed that he might give up.
Mark leaned over the bed and whispered a word of encouragement in his son's ear. "Come on, Son. Open your eyes for me. Please, Steve, try and open them. That's it. Open your eyes."
Steve fought to do as he was told, but it was proving to be a battle. After some serious work on his part he was able to pry them open enough to find another pair of blue eyes just like his smiling down on him. He seemed rather confused about where he was. There was something in his throat and it was making it hard to swallow. He reached up to remove what ever was causing him so much discomfort only to be stopped by a gentle restraining hand from his father.
"Leave that alone for now. I'll have it taken out in a few minutes. You need to relax and take it easy. You're in the ICU. Do you remember what happened to you?"
Steve tried to comprehend what his father had just told him. He was confused because the last thing he remembered was Mrs. Grant settling him down for a nap. He barely moved his head in response but it was enough for Mark to understand that Steve was unaware that he had gone into anaphylactic shock.
Patting his son on the shoulder he said. "It's nothing for you to worry about now. Just relax and get some rest. I'll get a nurse and we'll remove that tube in a minute."
After Mark was sure that Steve could breath on his own he had a nurse assist him in removing his son from the ventilator. Steve gagged and then started coughing as soon as the tube was free. Mark soothed him and rubbed his back as he rode out the spasm.
Once Steve had been settled he tried to ask his father what had happened to land him in the ICU.
Thanks to coughing and then breathing hard his ribs began to protest once again making it impossible to put two words together much less a whole sentence. His throat was sore and his mouth was dry. All of this combined made any communication with his father at the moment too much for his sore tired body to tolerate.
Mark could see his son struggling and knew that he had questions and pretty much could guess each and every one. Armed with ice chips and a spoon he began first by trying to ease some of the discomfort by spooning in tiny bits of ice to ease the dryness in his son's mouth. Once Steve had managed to swallow several mouthfuls he once again tried to speak. Mark was ready and before his son could even begin to sort in his mind what he wanted to ask, began to explain this latest crisis that had intruded on his recovery.
"You were given the wrong medication. Somehow you were given a dose of Penicillin. You then went into anaphylactic shock. We had to intubate you and push an amp of Epinephrine into your IV to counteract it. You gave me quite a scare." Mark smiled down at his son who was already slipping back to sleep.
This time it was a natural sleep. Mark couldn't help but give a sigh of relief. He made arrangements to have his son sent back to his room and nurse. Once he was sure that Steve was settled and Mrs. Grant had everything under control Mark decided to find out what had happened to Steve's records. When he got to the nurses station he found Jesse standing there looking at several slips of paper and notes from a chart. Mark could tell by the frown on his young friend's face that he was not a happy camper.
"What's up, Jesse? You look like something's bothering you." Mark asked.
"Look at the carbons of these request forms. Someone ordered the Penicillin for Steve. But I don't know who. The initials on the slip are M.E. Then instead of the medicine being checked against the MAR or the chart, it was just placed in the drawer, but worse than that, when it was administered it wasn't checked to see if it was the right dose or anything. They just picked up a vial and drew the medication and inserted it into the piggyback. I'm at a loss as to what is going on here. But I plan to find out."
"What if it wasn't a mistake? What if it was a deliberate attempt on Steve's life?" Mark looked at Jesse to see what his reaction would be.
"You mean someone purposely tried to kill Steve by switching the antibiotics? That's kind of far out there. First, they would have to now that he was highly allergic to the antibiotic. Second, they would have to be able to blend in here with out anyone getting suspicious. Thirdly, they would have to make sure that they had access to the medication cart. That's kept locked up and the only key is in the hands of the medication nurse. It is possible but think about how elaborate a scheme it is." Jesse seemed thoughtful as he pondered on what he had just said.
"I know but if someone wanted him dead bad enough they could pull it off. What better way to cover it up than as a tragic mistake made by the hospital? I seem to recall not to long ago someone nearly killing him right here under our noses by giving him Warfarin. I think I'll have Cheryl check into this from the outside. I plan to do a little checking here inside the hospital myself." Reaching for the phone Mark dialed the number to the precinct and asked to speak to Detective Banks.
After ten minutes of talking and explaining his concerns to Cheryl, Mark walked back down the hall towards his son's room. He was still concerned that this could be a serious mistake made by the hospital staff. He planned to do a little checking himself because no matter who was responsible he couldn't afford to let this type of mistake happen again, to anyone, but least of all his son.
When Mark walked back into his son's room he found him sleeping with Mrs. Grant hovering around him as if by, staying close, she could ward off any harm that might be lurking close to him. He also noticed that she was preparing a bath for him. Smiling to himself, Mark could already hear the battle waging in his head between patient and nurse. He had to give his son credit for one thing he was persistent in his efforts to stave off the equally persistent nurse and the very efficient manner in which she took care of her patient.
"How's he doing?" Mark walked up to his son's bed and placed a hand on his cheek needing to feel the comfort of the contact. He was grateful for the warmth of his son's skin.
Mark realized that this whole incident had shaken him more than he cared to admit. He had always thought his son was safe while convalescing in the hospital. Now that idea had been shattered by this latest crisis.
Mrs. Grant watched Mark as he stood and looked down on his son with concern and love. She knew that this had affected him more than he was admitting to anyone. She could see the lines of worry, although somewhat faded, still on his face. "He seems to be resting fine. I thought maybe when he woke up I would help him with a bath and settle him in for a light supper. I hope he has an appetite. When he doesn't I tend to worry."
"I'll stay with him for now. Why don't you go on home? I'm sure by tomorrow he's going to be back to normal and you are going to need all the rest you can get if you plan to stay ahead of him." Mark winked at the nurse as she began to gather her things to leave.
"You're right, but don't let Steve know that. He thinks that I am invincible. If he ever finds out that I have to take special vitamins to just keep up with him then I will loose my edge. He'll be wrapping me around his little finger like he does Maggie. Can't have that now can we?" She smiled at Mark and as she made her way to the door she called over her shoulder. "Make sure he gets a bath. I'll know if he talks you out of it. So you better not let him get by without one." She then walked out the door.
Mark smiled down on his son and pulled up the blanket tucking it around his shoulders. As he sat down he decided to relax letting himself drift off into a peaceful sleep.
He was startled awake by the sound of rattling cutlery. He looked up and Amanda was helping his son tuck a napkin under his chin. Steve was grateful for her assistance since he was still tired from his earlier ordeal and his ribs and side were still giving him subtle reminders that he needed to be careful about how he moved around. She lifted off the covers from the dishes and began to help with his meal. As Steve picked up the fork he noticed Mark had awakened from his nap.
"I thought you were going to sleep there all night Dad." Steve smiled at his father.
"Well would that have been so bad?" Mark stood and walked up to the bed and peered at the unappetizing looking food on his son's plate.
"It would if I was planning on going back to sleep." Commented Steve between mouthfuls of the white glob that Mark hadn't quite recognized yet.
"What do you mean if you were planning on getting back to sleep? What is that you're eating with such relish?" Mark could never understand how Steve could enjoy the food from the hospital cafeteria.
"You tell me. It was yours and Jesse's idea to put me on a bland diet. When are you going to let me have something worth chewing and swallowing?" Steve reached for the glass of juice in order to wash down the mouthful of what ever the mystery meat was that had him chewing a little longer than was normal.
"How does your stomach feel when you eat? Any nausea?" Mark gazed at his son for any sign of discomfort while he consumed his supper.
"No not any more. I really am getting tired of mush and dry toast. I use to like jello until I had to eat it six times a day. I'm missing the good stuff. I know I smelled meatloaf a moment ago when the food cart passed by the door."
Mark chuckled at his son as he watched him attack another piece of what might be chicken. "I'll see about getting you a little more than bland tomorrow. But, if you feel any discomfort at all you need to let us know. You took quite a beating to your stomach and believe me it will protest if you try to eat something too spicy. It's irritated and the food won't settle well if it hasn't had a chance to heal."
"By the way, you were snoring like a buzz saw over there. You had the windows rattling at one point. I think you need to sleep in a real bed tonight. I'm fine." Steve looked at his father and the two exchanged the unspoken acknowledgment of love and devotion that they had for one another.
"I have you know that I don't snore. Your mother never complained anyway."
"Mom thought you were perfect. She loved you so much it made her deaf." Steve gave his dad a mischievous grin.
"Your mom was a strong woman. She had to be to put up with you and me. Carol never gave her any worries, but boy you kept her on her toes. She could never go to sleep until she knew you were at home and safe in bed." Mark had a far away look in his eyes as he remembered his beautiful wife.
"I didn't know that. She never sat up and waited on me. I was always grateful for that. A lot of my friends complained about their mothers' sitting up and then giving them the third degree about their date or what they did. Mom never pried. I guess she figured if it was important enough I would share it with her." Steve smiled to himself as he pictured his Mom working in her flower garden or cooking in the kitchen.
"That's because she didn't want you to know. She would slip out of bed after you were sleeping and make her way to your bedroom and check on you, did the same with Carol. Your mom could never sleep until she was sure that you were ok."
"You mean she came into the room after we had gone to bed? Why?" Steve looked surprised.
"She just had to touch you I guess to be sure that you were ok. I followed her one night to see what she was up to. She just walked up to your bed and gently placed her hand on your cheek. She let it rest there for a second or two and then she reached over and kissed you. She then turned and walked out. She didn't know that I had followed her and she ran into me just outside your door. I scared her so bad that she squealed. We were afraid that you would wake up but you never moved. She waited until we got back into our room and boy did she let me have it. She told me I had better not ever scare her again like that. I didn't mean to. It was just an accident.
"Anyway, after that I never followed her again. I would just ask her if you or Carol were ok. She would lie down and I could see her smiling in the dark and she would just say 'Everything is perfect.' Then she would go to sleep and never stir again the rest of the night." There was a little sadness as Mark relayed this to his son. Both of them sat quietly for a minute and reflected on how rich their lives were today because of the wonderful woman who had been a wife and mother to them.
Amanda had been standing by listening to her two friends discuss this precious one with such love and devotion. She realized that it was time that she went and told her own mother how much she loved and appreciated her and the thoughtful things she always seemed to do for her family.
She kissed Steve and Mark goodbye and made them both promise to get some rest. Especially Mark. Mark stood with his fingers crossed behind his back as he assured Amanda and his son that he would go home and get a good night's sleep.
Mark knew, however, that he had no intentions of leaving his son alone in the hospital until either Jesse or himself had been able to get to the bottom of the negligence that nearly cost Steve his life. By camping out in his office it would be possible to keep an eye on the care that his son received. His suspicions over the discrepancy lay with the night shift and Mark wanted to observe the nurses to see if it was possible to discover who had totally reworked Steve's chart to fit the pharmacy slips instead of questioning the suspected mistake. If it had been deliberate maybe who ever had carried it out would come back to try again.
But first he had to attend to the battle of the bath since he knew that Mrs. Grant would blame him if his son went more than twenty-four hours with out soap and water being introduced into his routine.
"Steve, I hate to bring this up now, but Mrs. Grant had prepared everything for you to take a bath before she left and was pretty insistent that you take it. She's going to have my head since I promised her that I would see to it that you got one." Mark could see a look of frustration coming all over Steve's face so he decided to try another tactic. "Well at least it's me here to assist you and not her. You could be a little grateful for that."
"Thank goodness for small favors. I swear I have never seen anyone who was so obsessed about being squeaky clean. Mom wasn't that bad and you know how she was." Steve started getting ready for the task so that he could get it out of the way. There was a ball game on that evening and he didn't want to miss it.
After Mark helped his son bathe and change into a clean hospital gown he excused himself with the story that he wanted to get something to eat before the kitchen closed. Instead of making his way down to the cafeteria though Mark headed for the pharmacy to see if he could shed any light on why the medication slips had been so fouled up.
About five hours later Mark was awakened by a sound coming from Steve's bed. He quickly moved over to his son's side and placed his hand over the warm hand that lay so still. He watched with anticipation as Steve tried to open his eyes. The effort was a struggle and for a minute it seemed that he might give up.
Mark leaned over the bed and whispered a word of encouragement in his son's ear. "Come on, Son. Open your eyes for me. Please, Steve, try and open them. That's it. Open your eyes."
Steve fought to do as he was told, but it was proving to be a battle. After some serious work on his part he was able to pry them open enough to find another pair of blue eyes just like his smiling down on him. He seemed rather confused about where he was. There was something in his throat and it was making it hard to swallow. He reached up to remove what ever was causing him so much discomfort only to be stopped by a gentle restraining hand from his father.
"Leave that alone for now. I'll have it taken out in a few minutes. You need to relax and take it easy. You're in the ICU. Do you remember what happened to you?"
Steve tried to comprehend what his father had just told him. He was confused because the last thing he remembered was Mrs. Grant settling him down for a nap. He barely moved his head in response but it was enough for Mark to understand that Steve was unaware that he had gone into anaphylactic shock.
Patting his son on the shoulder he said. "It's nothing for you to worry about now. Just relax and get some rest. I'll get a nurse and we'll remove that tube in a minute."
After Mark was sure that Steve could breath on his own he had a nurse assist him in removing his son from the ventilator. Steve gagged and then started coughing as soon as the tube was free. Mark soothed him and rubbed his back as he rode out the spasm.
Once Steve had been settled he tried to ask his father what had happened to land him in the ICU.
Thanks to coughing and then breathing hard his ribs began to protest once again making it impossible to put two words together much less a whole sentence. His throat was sore and his mouth was dry. All of this combined made any communication with his father at the moment too much for his sore tired body to tolerate.
Mark could see his son struggling and knew that he had questions and pretty much could guess each and every one. Armed with ice chips and a spoon he began first by trying to ease some of the discomfort by spooning in tiny bits of ice to ease the dryness in his son's mouth. Once Steve had managed to swallow several mouthfuls he once again tried to speak. Mark was ready and before his son could even begin to sort in his mind what he wanted to ask, began to explain this latest crisis that had intruded on his recovery.
"You were given the wrong medication. Somehow you were given a dose of Penicillin. You then went into anaphylactic shock. We had to intubate you and push an amp of Epinephrine into your IV to counteract it. You gave me quite a scare." Mark smiled down at his son who was already slipping back to sleep.
This time it was a natural sleep. Mark couldn't help but give a sigh of relief. He made arrangements to have his son sent back to his room and nurse. Once he was sure that Steve was settled and Mrs. Grant had everything under control Mark decided to find out what had happened to Steve's records. When he got to the nurses station he found Jesse standing there looking at several slips of paper and notes from a chart. Mark could tell by the frown on his young friend's face that he was not a happy camper.
"What's up, Jesse? You look like something's bothering you." Mark asked.
"Look at the carbons of these request forms. Someone ordered the Penicillin for Steve. But I don't know who. The initials on the slip are M.E. Then instead of the medicine being checked against the MAR or the chart, it was just placed in the drawer, but worse than that, when it was administered it wasn't checked to see if it was the right dose or anything. They just picked up a vial and drew the medication and inserted it into the piggyback. I'm at a loss as to what is going on here. But I plan to find out."
"What if it wasn't a mistake? What if it was a deliberate attempt on Steve's life?" Mark looked at Jesse to see what his reaction would be.
"You mean someone purposely tried to kill Steve by switching the antibiotics? That's kind of far out there. First, they would have to now that he was highly allergic to the antibiotic. Second, they would have to be able to blend in here with out anyone getting suspicious. Thirdly, they would have to make sure that they had access to the medication cart. That's kept locked up and the only key is in the hands of the medication nurse. It is possible but think about how elaborate a scheme it is." Jesse seemed thoughtful as he pondered on what he had just said.
"I know but if someone wanted him dead bad enough they could pull it off. What better way to cover it up than as a tragic mistake made by the hospital? I seem to recall not to long ago someone nearly killing him right here under our noses by giving him Warfarin. I think I'll have Cheryl check into this from the outside. I plan to do a little checking here inside the hospital myself." Reaching for the phone Mark dialed the number to the precinct and asked to speak to Detective Banks.
After ten minutes of talking and explaining his concerns to Cheryl, Mark walked back down the hall towards his son's room. He was still concerned that this could be a serious mistake made by the hospital staff. He planned to do a little checking himself because no matter who was responsible he couldn't afford to let this type of mistake happen again, to anyone, but least of all his son.
When Mark walked back into his son's room he found him sleeping with Mrs. Grant hovering around him as if by, staying close, she could ward off any harm that might be lurking close to him. He also noticed that she was preparing a bath for him. Smiling to himself, Mark could already hear the battle waging in his head between patient and nurse. He had to give his son credit for one thing he was persistent in his efforts to stave off the equally persistent nurse and the very efficient manner in which she took care of her patient.
"How's he doing?" Mark walked up to his son's bed and placed a hand on his cheek needing to feel the comfort of the contact. He was grateful for the warmth of his son's skin.
Mark realized that this whole incident had shaken him more than he cared to admit. He had always thought his son was safe while convalescing in the hospital. Now that idea had been shattered by this latest crisis.
Mrs. Grant watched Mark as he stood and looked down on his son with concern and love. She knew that this had affected him more than he was admitting to anyone. She could see the lines of worry, although somewhat faded, still on his face. "He seems to be resting fine. I thought maybe when he woke up I would help him with a bath and settle him in for a light supper. I hope he has an appetite. When he doesn't I tend to worry."
"I'll stay with him for now. Why don't you go on home? I'm sure by tomorrow he's going to be back to normal and you are going to need all the rest you can get if you plan to stay ahead of him." Mark winked at the nurse as she began to gather her things to leave.
"You're right, but don't let Steve know that. He thinks that I am invincible. If he ever finds out that I have to take special vitamins to just keep up with him then I will loose my edge. He'll be wrapping me around his little finger like he does Maggie. Can't have that now can we?" She smiled at Mark and as she made her way to the door she called over her shoulder. "Make sure he gets a bath. I'll know if he talks you out of it. So you better not let him get by without one." She then walked out the door.
Mark smiled down on his son and pulled up the blanket tucking it around his shoulders. As he sat down he decided to relax letting himself drift off into a peaceful sleep.
He was startled awake by the sound of rattling cutlery. He looked up and Amanda was helping his son tuck a napkin under his chin. Steve was grateful for her assistance since he was still tired from his earlier ordeal and his ribs and side were still giving him subtle reminders that he needed to be careful about how he moved around. She lifted off the covers from the dishes and began to help with his meal. As Steve picked up the fork he noticed Mark had awakened from his nap.
"I thought you were going to sleep there all night Dad." Steve smiled at his father.
"Well would that have been so bad?" Mark stood and walked up to the bed and peered at the unappetizing looking food on his son's plate.
"It would if I was planning on going back to sleep." Commented Steve between mouthfuls of the white glob that Mark hadn't quite recognized yet.
"What do you mean if you were planning on getting back to sleep? What is that you're eating with such relish?" Mark could never understand how Steve could enjoy the food from the hospital cafeteria.
"You tell me. It was yours and Jesse's idea to put me on a bland diet. When are you going to let me have something worth chewing and swallowing?" Steve reached for the glass of juice in order to wash down the mouthful of what ever the mystery meat was that had him chewing a little longer than was normal.
"How does your stomach feel when you eat? Any nausea?" Mark gazed at his son for any sign of discomfort while he consumed his supper.
"No not any more. I really am getting tired of mush and dry toast. I use to like jello until I had to eat it six times a day. I'm missing the good stuff. I know I smelled meatloaf a moment ago when the food cart passed by the door."
Mark chuckled at his son as he watched him attack another piece of what might be chicken. "I'll see about getting you a little more than bland tomorrow. But, if you feel any discomfort at all you need to let us know. You took quite a beating to your stomach and believe me it will protest if you try to eat something too spicy. It's irritated and the food won't settle well if it hasn't had a chance to heal."
"By the way, you were snoring like a buzz saw over there. You had the windows rattling at one point. I think you need to sleep in a real bed tonight. I'm fine." Steve looked at his father and the two exchanged the unspoken acknowledgment of love and devotion that they had for one another.
"I have you know that I don't snore. Your mother never complained anyway."
"Mom thought you were perfect. She loved you so much it made her deaf." Steve gave his dad a mischievous grin.
"Your mom was a strong woman. She had to be to put up with you and me. Carol never gave her any worries, but boy you kept her on her toes. She could never go to sleep until she knew you were at home and safe in bed." Mark had a far away look in his eyes as he remembered his beautiful wife.
"I didn't know that. She never sat up and waited on me. I was always grateful for that. A lot of my friends complained about their mothers' sitting up and then giving them the third degree about their date or what they did. Mom never pried. I guess she figured if it was important enough I would share it with her." Steve smiled to himself as he pictured his Mom working in her flower garden or cooking in the kitchen.
"That's because she didn't want you to know. She would slip out of bed after you were sleeping and make her way to your bedroom and check on you, did the same with Carol. Your mom could never sleep until she was sure that you were ok."
"You mean she came into the room after we had gone to bed? Why?" Steve looked surprised.
"She just had to touch you I guess to be sure that you were ok. I followed her one night to see what she was up to. She just walked up to your bed and gently placed her hand on your cheek. She let it rest there for a second or two and then she reached over and kissed you. She then turned and walked out. She didn't know that I had followed her and she ran into me just outside your door. I scared her so bad that she squealed. We were afraid that you would wake up but you never moved. She waited until we got back into our room and boy did she let me have it. She told me I had better not ever scare her again like that. I didn't mean to. It was just an accident.
"Anyway, after that I never followed her again. I would just ask her if you or Carol were ok. She would lie down and I could see her smiling in the dark and she would just say 'Everything is perfect.' Then she would go to sleep and never stir again the rest of the night." There was a little sadness as Mark relayed this to his son. Both of them sat quietly for a minute and reflected on how rich their lives were today because of the wonderful woman who had been a wife and mother to them.
Amanda had been standing by listening to her two friends discuss this precious one with such love and devotion. She realized that it was time that she went and told her own mother how much she loved and appreciated her and the thoughtful things she always seemed to do for her family.
She kissed Steve and Mark goodbye and made them both promise to get some rest. Especially Mark. Mark stood with his fingers crossed behind his back as he assured Amanda and his son that he would go home and get a good night's sleep.
Mark knew, however, that he had no intentions of leaving his son alone in the hospital until either Jesse or himself had been able to get to the bottom of the negligence that nearly cost Steve his life. By camping out in his office it would be possible to keep an eye on the care that his son received. His suspicions over the discrepancy lay with the night shift and Mark wanted to observe the nurses to see if it was possible to discover who had totally reworked Steve's chart to fit the pharmacy slips instead of questioning the suspected mistake. If it had been deliberate maybe who ever had carried it out would come back to try again.
But first he had to attend to the battle of the bath since he knew that Mrs. Grant would blame him if his son went more than twenty-four hours with out soap and water being introduced into his routine.
"Steve, I hate to bring this up now, but Mrs. Grant had prepared everything for you to take a bath before she left and was pretty insistent that you take it. She's going to have my head since I promised her that I would see to it that you got one." Mark could see a look of frustration coming all over Steve's face so he decided to try another tactic. "Well at least it's me here to assist you and not her. You could be a little grateful for that."
"Thank goodness for small favors. I swear I have never seen anyone who was so obsessed about being squeaky clean. Mom wasn't that bad and you know how she was." Steve started getting ready for the task so that he could get it out of the way. There was a ball game on that evening and he didn't want to miss it.
After Mark helped his son bathe and change into a clean hospital gown he excused himself with the story that he wanted to get something to eat before the kitchen closed. Instead of making his way down to the cafeteria though Mark headed for the pharmacy to see if he could shed any light on why the medication slips had been so fouled up.