Chapter 26
Nurse Morton eyed the readouts from the bank of instruments that efficiently monitored her patient. Medical science had progressed in the last thirty years by leaps and bounds with nano technological precision. Every breath, every pulse, every firing synapse was measured and calculated to the inth degree. But Adele Morton was a trauma nursing specialist and a mother. She knew that the best thing for young Gordon Tracy was the woman who sat by his side whispering to him and holding his uninjured hand. She would have the rest of the nurses work around the patient's wife, for she seemed more vital to his recovery than any beeping, laser light equipped monitor.
"Mrs. Tracy? Do you have anyone you can call?" Morton eyed the young woman with a sympathetic, but professional eye. Mrs. Tracy had been reluctantly treated in the ER for various bruises, scrapes and some nasty cuts on her forearms from broken glass. She had been a calm almost placid patient until she marched into the ICU to seek out her husband. The ICU staff had plenty of experience with the relatives and friends of their patients. Reactions varied from out and out hysteria to almost catatonic numbness. Martha Tracy had been frightened, but kept that fear well in check. Her only emotion seemed to be the nervous fiddling with her wedding ring. Adele would eat her stethoscope if the couple had been married for more than a year. The doctor had gone through most of his mumbo jumbo about the medical side.
"His arm and shoulder has been fractured in several places. We've pinned them together, and with physiotherapy should be no problems. However, " He paused to look at the young woman., "The damage to the head and neck are more serious. There are lesions from an older injury that have been aggravated by Mr. Tracy's injuries."
"The chicken coop." The red-haired woman muttered softly. "He fell off the roof, sort of." Gordon had almost killed himself and did end up with badly torn back and a dislocated thumb. His swim coach had been furious, but the joke had seemed worth it. More guilt settled in on her.
The doctor frowned, that must have been a hell of a chicken coop Tracy's back looked like a interstate freeway junction. "Right now," he continued. "We can only keep monitoring and wait for him to wake up."
"We have a lounge just down the hall..." Adele Morton said helpfully and half hopefully.
"I'm staying here. With Gordon. Until he wakes up."
"We'll see." the doctor looked at the nurse who gave a slight nod. Despite technical advances, fatalities had slowly climbed in Intensive Care patients over the last decade. Researchers had finally hit on the fact that too many machines and lack of human contact could be just as deadly as an fatal injury, an infection, or any other hazard facing a desperately ill person. Nurses and doctors were encouraged to touch and speak to their patients. Family who could endure the heartache and not get in the staff's way were also persuaded to 'help' out. Mrs. Tracy could stay, for the time being.
"Mrs. Tracy?" Nurse Morton repeated her question. "Do you have someone you can call?"
"Oh, ah yes, I should call Gordon's family..." Her voice trailed off unhappily. "They'll want to be with Gordon. They are very close."
"What about your family?"
Em looked at the man who was always so lively and bouncy. To see him lying there, so still broke her heart. "Gordon is all I have." She said softly.
"Surely they will be glad to see you are all right?"
"Uh huh." Em said noncommittally. "Is there a vidphone I can use?"
"In the lounge, just down the hall. I'll stay here with Mr. Tracy while you call." The nurse offered.
"I'll be right back Flash. No falling over chicken coops, okay?" she lightly touched his eyebrow which was the only part of his face not disfigured by heavy bruising, abrasions, and bandages.
Em hadn't corrected the doctors when they called her Mrs. Tracy. If the small lie kept her by Gordon's side she wasn't going to disillusion them. But she wasn't about to lie to Gordon's father. She had too much respect and awe for the man that had taken on her father in her defense. But. she was scared of him, too, especially after Charlotte had made such a mess of things. He probably would object to her out of hand. Guilt by association her father would call it.
Tracy Industries had all the latest hardware and software that any large growing multinational firm could afford. Electronic postal sorting, automated scanners, spam sorters against the odd junk mail that managed to breech the mighty secure walls of the Tracy organization. And a inter industry telephone and vid service that rivaled Ma Bell. Mr. Tracy treated his liveware with as much consideration. He let the staff have the Thanksgiving holiday free. If anyone knew the importance of family it was Jeff Tracy. So, there was no one but machines to hear the first of many messages that Em Jones left to them.
"At the sound of the tone please leave a message. Our staff will get right back to you. Happy Holidays!" The mechanical tone cheerfully informed her. A Norman Rockwell painting of a pre technology era Thanksgiving family scene graced the vid.
"This is Em er Martha Jones, I don't know if you remember me. I knew Gordon in high school." She took a deep breath. "There has been an accident and Gordon is hurt. He is alive...but...ah maybe it is best if you come. Please contact the County Central Hospital in Millerton."
Em grimaced some three hours later at the vid. Rockwell had been replaced by an overflowing cornucopia.
"At the sound of the tone please leave a message. Our staff will get right back to you. Happy Holidays!"
"I hoped you would call...I suppose you are on your way. Gordon is still unconscious, but the doctors are hopeful. I'm sorry." she blurted out. "I - I have to get back. Uh bye."
"At the sound of the tone please leave a message. Our staff will get right back to you. Happy Holidays!" Em didn't even bother looking at the blur of color on the vidscreen. She had been coaxed by the ICU staff to take a break from her vigil. She had tried to sleep, but the thought of Gordon lying all alone in the hospital bed had got her up and at his side after only half an hour. Had things changed so much in the Tracy family that they didn't care anymore? It had been over 24 hours since they were admitted to the hospital.
"I am sorry Mr. Tracy. It is my fault. I got Gordon mixed up with my own problems. And then there was the chicken coop that made things worse. And...and...I wish..." She stopped. "Gordon needs you. Not me It was just silly of me to even think...I'm sorry." She snuffled back the tears. Later, she would cry later.
Nurse Morton eyed the readouts from the bank of instruments that efficiently monitored her patient. Medical science had progressed in the last thirty years by leaps and bounds with nano technological precision. Every breath, every pulse, every firing synapse was measured and calculated to the inth degree. But Adele Morton was a trauma nursing specialist and a mother. She knew that the best thing for young Gordon Tracy was the woman who sat by his side whispering to him and holding his uninjured hand. She would have the rest of the nurses work around the patient's wife, for she seemed more vital to his recovery than any beeping, laser light equipped monitor.
"Mrs. Tracy? Do you have anyone you can call?" Morton eyed the young woman with a sympathetic, but professional eye. Mrs. Tracy had been reluctantly treated in the ER for various bruises, scrapes and some nasty cuts on her forearms from broken glass. She had been a calm almost placid patient until she marched into the ICU to seek out her husband. The ICU staff had plenty of experience with the relatives and friends of their patients. Reactions varied from out and out hysteria to almost catatonic numbness. Martha Tracy had been frightened, but kept that fear well in check. Her only emotion seemed to be the nervous fiddling with her wedding ring. Adele would eat her stethoscope if the couple had been married for more than a year. The doctor had gone through most of his mumbo jumbo about the medical side.
"His arm and shoulder has been fractured in several places. We've pinned them together, and with physiotherapy should be no problems. However, " He paused to look at the young woman., "The damage to the head and neck are more serious. There are lesions from an older injury that have been aggravated by Mr. Tracy's injuries."
"The chicken coop." The red-haired woman muttered softly. "He fell off the roof, sort of." Gordon had almost killed himself and did end up with badly torn back and a dislocated thumb. His swim coach had been furious, but the joke had seemed worth it. More guilt settled in on her.
The doctor frowned, that must have been a hell of a chicken coop Tracy's back looked like a interstate freeway junction. "Right now," he continued. "We can only keep monitoring and wait for him to wake up."
"We have a lounge just down the hall..." Adele Morton said helpfully and half hopefully.
"I'm staying here. With Gordon. Until he wakes up."
"We'll see." the doctor looked at the nurse who gave a slight nod. Despite technical advances, fatalities had slowly climbed in Intensive Care patients over the last decade. Researchers had finally hit on the fact that too many machines and lack of human contact could be just as deadly as an fatal injury, an infection, or any other hazard facing a desperately ill person. Nurses and doctors were encouraged to touch and speak to their patients. Family who could endure the heartache and not get in the staff's way were also persuaded to 'help' out. Mrs. Tracy could stay, for the time being.
"Mrs. Tracy?" Nurse Morton repeated her question. "Do you have someone you can call?"
"Oh, ah yes, I should call Gordon's family..." Her voice trailed off unhappily. "They'll want to be with Gordon. They are very close."
"What about your family?"
Em looked at the man who was always so lively and bouncy. To see him lying there, so still broke her heart. "Gordon is all I have." She said softly.
"Surely they will be glad to see you are all right?"
"Uh huh." Em said noncommittally. "Is there a vidphone I can use?"
"In the lounge, just down the hall. I'll stay here with Mr. Tracy while you call." The nurse offered.
"I'll be right back Flash. No falling over chicken coops, okay?" she lightly touched his eyebrow which was the only part of his face not disfigured by heavy bruising, abrasions, and bandages.
Em hadn't corrected the doctors when they called her Mrs. Tracy. If the small lie kept her by Gordon's side she wasn't going to disillusion them. But she wasn't about to lie to Gordon's father. She had too much respect and awe for the man that had taken on her father in her defense. But. she was scared of him, too, especially after Charlotte had made such a mess of things. He probably would object to her out of hand. Guilt by association her father would call it.
Tracy Industries had all the latest hardware and software that any large growing multinational firm could afford. Electronic postal sorting, automated scanners, spam sorters against the odd junk mail that managed to breech the mighty secure walls of the Tracy organization. And a inter industry telephone and vid service that rivaled Ma Bell. Mr. Tracy treated his liveware with as much consideration. He let the staff have the Thanksgiving holiday free. If anyone knew the importance of family it was Jeff Tracy. So, there was no one but machines to hear the first of many messages that Em Jones left to them.
"At the sound of the tone please leave a message. Our staff will get right back to you. Happy Holidays!" The mechanical tone cheerfully informed her. A Norman Rockwell painting of a pre technology era Thanksgiving family scene graced the vid.
"This is Em er Martha Jones, I don't know if you remember me. I knew Gordon in high school." She took a deep breath. "There has been an accident and Gordon is hurt. He is alive...but...ah maybe it is best if you come. Please contact the County Central Hospital in Millerton."
Em grimaced some three hours later at the vid. Rockwell had been replaced by an overflowing cornucopia.
"At the sound of the tone please leave a message. Our staff will get right back to you. Happy Holidays!"
"I hoped you would call...I suppose you are on your way. Gordon is still unconscious, but the doctors are hopeful. I'm sorry." she blurted out. "I - I have to get back. Uh bye."
"At the sound of the tone please leave a message. Our staff will get right back to you. Happy Holidays!" Em didn't even bother looking at the blur of color on the vidscreen. She had been coaxed by the ICU staff to take a break from her vigil. She had tried to sleep, but the thought of Gordon lying all alone in the hospital bed had got her up and at his side after only half an hour. Had things changed so much in the Tracy family that they didn't care anymore? It had been over 24 hours since they were admitted to the hospital.
"I am sorry Mr. Tracy. It is my fault. I got Gordon mixed up with my own problems. And then there was the chicken coop that made things worse. And...and...I wish..." She stopped. "Gordon needs you. Not me It was just silly of me to even think...I'm sorry." She snuffled back the tears. Later, she would cry later.