Whispers in Silence -- 2
by BeckyS
15 Nov 2004
By the time Ben had yelled for Joe to go for the doctor, Adam's eyes had closed, and he'd sunk once more into deep silence.
When Paul arrived, he was cautiously hopeful. He knew Ben well, and knew the conclusion he would have reached. His friend would take his son with half a mind, or no mind at all, if that's what God intended, always believing that he could bring his eldest back by sheer force of will. Truly, the old adage Where there's life, there's hope applied to Ben Cartwright more than anyone he'd ever known.
Paul described the various tests he wanted them to try if— here he was interrupted by Joe, who inserted emphatically "when" —Adam opened his eyes again. He cautioned that Adam might not actually be awake, even though he'd seem to be looking at them. The tests would help them determine how aware he was. They were to keep a log of everything that happened, including times and circumstances.
"For example," he said, "if he opens his eyes when Hop Sing enters the room with a tray of food, it could be he's reacting to the aroma of the broth. Hearing, smell, touch – these are the ways to reach him. Watch for small responses. If you squeeze his hand, does he squeeze back? Do his eyes follow you as you move around the room? Does he flinch or make any sound when you adjust the splint on his broken wrist or when you change the dressings on that gash on his leg? Write down anything he says, as well as whether or not it makes sense. That will give us some good clues as to how he's doing."
Hoss and Joe exchanged glances. "You got it, Doc," said Hoss, speaking for his brother as well. "One of us'll be here with him all the time."
"I'll get one of the new ledgers from downstairs," Joe offered.
Ben was silent, and the doctor could see hope warring with fear in his eyes. "Walk me out, would you, Ben?" he asked.
Ben rose from the chair at Adam's side, and Hoss immediately eased himself into it and took his brother's undamaged hand. As they left the room, Ben heard the soft, comforting murmur Hoss used whenever he sat with an injured, frightened animal.
The two older men walked downstairs and outside without a word. It wasn't until the doctor climbed up into his buggy that Ben broke the silence.
"Tell me the truth, Paul. Is this a good sign?"
The doctor sighed as he gathered up his reins. "I didn't see him with his eyes open, so it's hard for me to judge how aware he is. Certainly this is better than the complete unresponsiveness we've seen since the accident."
"Are you saying he's getting well?"
"I don't know that I'd go that far yet, Ben. There are too many variables in this kind of injury. One thing, though – if he is getting better, he'll probably hear everything you say, even if he doesn't respond, so be careful what you talk about when you're with him."
"Would it help to talk to him?"
"If he's on his way back, yes. If this is just an aberration of his brain, an involuntary movement – well, it still won't hurt." He reached out and squeezed his old friend's shoulder, felt a slight easing of tension in the muscles. All of the Cartwrights would feel better if they could do something, anything to help Adam. "Barring any emergencies, I'll come back tomorrow, and maybe I'll be able to tell you more."
"Thank you, Paul." And as Ben walked back into the house, Paul Martin thought he saw a lightening of his friend's step – hope renewed. And he well knew that when Ben Cartwright hoped and prayed, mountains moved.
It was two days before the doctor could get back to the Ponderosa. Ben didn't worry, precisely, since he knew that Paul's services were in high demand, but he fretted nonetheless. He wanted desperately to discuss his son's condition, which he found incomprehensible.
Adam had "woken" several times since the doctor's last visit, but while Ben could have sworn there was some sort of awareness in his eyes, he didn't respond to their questions.
He drank the water he was offered, but gave no indication of wanting more. He swallowed the broth Hop Sing brought, but said nothing about having had enough. And when Hoss changed the dressings on the deep half-healed gash on his left thigh, Joe reported that while Adam's eyes had been open and he'd winced a couple of times, he didn't so much as murmur a protest.
Doc Martin listened to their accounts and read with a thoughtful air the journal they'd kept so carefully, but he wouldn't draw any conclusions. Even after examining his patient, he refused to make assumptions. They left Hop Sing to watch over Adam and went back downstairs to sit at the hastily abandoned breakfast table for more coffee.
"Well, Paul?" asked Ben.
The doctor scratched his chin as he sank into the chair at the end of the table; Adam's, as it happened. "He's certainly better than he was, though the pupils of his eyes are still uneven. That tells me the brain swelling hasn't gone down enough yet. Even so, he reacted to my examination in most of the appropriate ways, though a bit slower than normal."
"Most?" Joe asked, his gaze rock steady, pushing for an explanation.
"With some of the tests I did, he should have tried to move away or say something. He didn't."
"That's the same thing we've noticed," Ben said.
Hoss sat heavily on the stones in front of the empty hearth. "He's hurtin'."
Doc Martin raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm not at all sure he's awake enough for that, Hoss."
Hoss scowled at him. "An I tell you I ain't never seen nobody hurtin' as bad as he is."
He set his cup back in its saucer. "Well, that would certainly account for some of his behavior, but how do you know?"
"Heck, Doc, I can see it, ever' time I look at him. It's plain as day, there in his eyes. I don't know what's causin' it, but I can tell you, its somethin' awful."
Paul turned thoughtful again. Everyone in the territory knew Hoss' affinity for injured creatures, so if he said his brother was suffering, then they'd do well not to discount his words. "I don't want to give him any laudanum, not at this point, but severe pain will affect his recovery." He turned to Ben. "You have ice?"
Ben looked in turn to Joe.
"Yeah," he answered grimly. "Adam and I finished filling up the ice house just before he went up to the mine."
"Good. Try placing some packs on his wrist, his leg, his ribs – see if you can figure out where the worst of the pain is. Start with the broken bones – the tissues are likely swollen around them and if you can get the swelling down, it'll ease the pain some. Use a few layers of cloth, since it doesn't seem likely he'll let you know if they're too cold. And I'd be surprised if he didn't have a whopper of a headache, too, so icepacks on his forehead or the back of his neck might help as well. Be careful of the left side of his head – if you put ice on it, don't push. Those bones are just at a point of healing, and we don't want to re-break anything. Oh, and get as much water into him as you can – you know you can get a bad headache from thirst."
"You'd think he'd tell us." Joe's eyebrows were drawn together in confusion. "Adam's not the kind to hold back on this kind of thing."
"Joe's right," said Ben. "Oh, he won't complain about sore muscles or blisters or even a bad cut. But you know, yourself, from the times you've had to dig a bullet or an arrow out of him, he'll tell you enough so you can help him. This just isn't like him."
Paul scowled. "Ben, boys, I want you to understand something. Along with the broken bones, cuts and bruises he got in that rock fall, Adam took a heck of a wallop to the head. When those rocks fractured his skull, they injured his brain. What kind of damage there is and whether or not it's permanent isn't something we're going to know for a while. You say this behavior isn't normal for him, Ben. The fact is, we don't know what normal is going to be from now on. I'm hoping and praying right alongside of you that he comes back the way he was, but I have to tell you, it's not likely. He could stay just like this for the rest of his life."
He'd been brutal, and it showed. Hoss dropped his head into his hands, Joe had turned white, and Ben gripped the arms of his chair with a strength that threatened to rip them from their joints.
"I won't accept that," Ben whispered. "I can't. He's come this far, and I will not accept that he won't get well."
"I hope you're right," Paul said, "and you know that I'll do everything I can to help him. Just don't make assumptions about what he can and can't do. We know too little about the brain to be able to predict his recovery. Especially right now, he needs gentle encouragement. Don't push him." He saw that they were beginning to understand.
"We'll watch over him, Doc," Hoss said. "Don't worry about that. And whatever it takes to make him well, you know we'll do it."
"Best thing you can do right now is talk to him. Let him know you're there. Let him sleep when he needs to, but if you think he's awake – what passes for awake with patients in this condition – find ways to gently get his attention. Remember, hearing and feeling are the first senses to come back."
Ben rose. "We'll remember, Paul, and we'll do what you suggest. When will you be back?"
"A few days. There really isn't much for me to do right now except monitor his progress, and you can probably do that better than I can. If his condition changes, send for me sooner, but otherwise I'll come out again around Saturday." He rose and picked up his bag. "No need to see me out, Ben. Go on back up to Adam."
Ben gave him a half-humorous glare of exasperation. "You know me too well," he said, but he went.
Regardless of the doctor's words, Hoss and Joe trailed after him to his buggy. Hoss was the first to speak.
"We're a mite worried 'bout Pa, too."
Paul looked back at the house, at the second-story window on the right. "The next few days could be crucial. There's nothing more I can do for Adam right now – it's up to you folks to convince him to come back to this world. If that costs you a few nights' sleep, I know none of you will mind." He climbed into his buggy. "Just make sure you get at least four hours a night, and your father gets six. Tell Hop Sing to make sure you eat well, and rest when you can. I'll be back in a few days."
"Thanks, Doc," said Hoss, and they watched him drive away. He turned to Joe. "Guess it's up to us, now."
"He's gonna get well," Joe insisted. "He's gonna get well and be just like he was before."
"I sure hope so," murmured Hoss as he threw an arm around his brother's shoulders. "I sure hope so."