Six Days After Christmas
Part 9
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He couldn't keep track of time.
Voices, spread out, here and there.
"I can't believe you guys didn't wake me up. Did he say anything? Well, that's a stupid question, my bad. Maybe we can teach him sign language or Morse code. Dad, do you remember how to …."
Seth's voice was always the loudest.
"Ryan, dude, you really need to wake up. You have a new nurse and she is smoking hot. I think she's diggin' on me…"
"So, Mom and Dad went to make some phone calls. I'm about to be kicked out. The nurse needs to do one of those check things. Summer's here. I'm getting some weird vibes. I mean, I know it's completely nail in the coffin over, but it's strange you know, almost like we were still going out. She's just being nice, I know that…"
Little by little, the fog was lifting.
Like he was a ghost ship, floating silently on waves, heading towards the lit shore.
But the drugs were still numbing his ability to participate in real time. He would fall asleep with one visitor and wake up to another. It was as if he had his own psychedelic time zone.
"Ryan, can you squeeze my hand?"
Not even fully awake, he anticipated the question this time, tightened his grip before the nurse finished her request. Managed to open his eyes.
Where was everyone? Where were the voices? Maybe he was dreaming. This was all too confusing. He knew he was in the hospital, was pretty sure of it at least. But he couldn't remember why.
Still couldn't talk, was still being choked, forced to swallow air he didn't want.
And the pain was getting worse, strengthening every time he sort of woke up.
"What's going on with you sweetie?" He heard the nurse ask. "Your heart's racing."
He stared at her, tried to raise his hand to pull out the goddamn tube from his mouth so he could tell her that his body had become a pincushion.
"Are you in pain Ryan?"
God yes, he loved this woman.
He squeezed her hand like there was no tomorrow.
"This will help sweetheart."
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Caleb came around ten.
They were all dog-tired, exiled to the waiting room while Ryan underwent a C-Scan to make sure his kidney had stopped bleeding and his brain hadn't started.
"Cal, you should have called," Sandy rose wearily to greet his father-in-law. "What in the world would lead you to believe that coming here was a good idea?"
Caleb brushed him off. "I'd like to see my daughter Sanford."
"What are you doing here Dad? I'm too exhausted to fight with you and I have no desire to talk to you." Kirsten joined her husband, folded her arms around her midsection. "Please, just go away."
"Ju Ju told me about the boy KiKi. I just came by to see if there's anything I can do."
Kirsten shook her head, "Ryan. His name is Ryan, Dad. It's been Ryan for a year and a half. And you don't give a damn about him. You only came here because you figured you could use his hospitalization as an excuse to weasel your way back into our lives. I want you to get the hell out of here, right now. This isn't the time, the place and I'm no where near ready."
Sandy escorted him out, handing Caleb a piece of paper.
"You want back into my family Cal? This is a damn good place to start. I can't find Ryan's mother by phone and I can't leave this hospital to do it myself. Here's the most current information I have on her. You show up with Dawn Atwood, and just maybe Kirsten will remember a few reasons not to hate you."
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Ryan felt himself rolling, and then come to a standstill.
He tried to clear the cobwebs from his brain.
Something was happening. Something bad. He couldn't remember what.
For a split second he felt his breathing return to his own power, and then just as quick, the forced air returned.
It was maddening.
A soft touch distracted him.
He smelled her perfume.
What was Marissa doing in the pool house?
"Can he hear me?"
"We're not clear on that. It's a possibility, they're lowering his sedation."
Sandy.
He was here too.
Ryan's head hurt. He must have a hang over.
Sandy'll be pissed.
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Lindsay arrived with her mother, their arms loaded down with bags of lunches.
Seth took over distribution, telling Lindsay, "My mom's with Ryan. He's doing a little better. She'll catch you up."
Marissa greeted her with a quiet, "Hi," lead her down the hall, in the direction of Ryan's room.
"I'm only here as his friend. Ryan and I," Marissa stopped in front of Ryan's door, "Ryan and I are still friends. That's ok with you, right? I mean, there's nothing between us anymore. We just, well, we were friends first, before we starting going out. I want to stay in his life, but I don't want to cause problems, between," Marissa fidgeted with her purse, "between you guys. I mean, Ryan, he deserves someone. I want him to be happy."
Unsure what to say, Lindsay remained silent, stared into Ryan's room. Kirsten was in there, reading a magazine with one hand, rubbing Ryan's arm with her free one.
"Um, Ryan and I are, uh," Lindsay laughed nervously, "I'm not really sure what we are."
"Sounds like DJ and I," Marissa said quietly. Then a little louder, "You guys'll figure it out." She pointed towards Ryan's room. "Do you ah, want me to go in with you?"
Lindsay shook her head, "No, thanks, I'm ok."
She watched Marissa leave, walk slowly down the hall.
"Lindsay?"
Kirsten stood, next to Ryan's bed, holding out her hand.
"Hi honey, how are you feeling?"
"I'm ok," Lindsay managed. "Can I uh, come in, is it ok?"
"Yeah, of course," Kirsten pulled up another chair, gave her a quick hug. "Ryan woke up a few hours ago. He's confused, but thank God, he seems to be in there. It's hard you know, with the breathing tube, to really understand what's going on with him. The doctor stopped by earlier. He said they are going to try and take Ryan off the ventilator later this afternoon or tonight. So," Kirsten nodded, "that's really positive news."
Lindsay stood rigid, taking in the mass of medical equipment that surrounded Ryan.
Kirsten had called earlier in the morning, updating them on Ryan's sudden surgery.
Everyone said he was doing better but as Lindsay stood there, scanning Ryan's face, she failed to see much improvement from last night.
He looked worse even, with more tubes and darker bruises.
"Here," Kirsten pointed to the chair closest to the head of the bed, "Have a seat, it's ok. I know all this," she waved a finger up and down the bed, "is intimidating, but it's ok, really. You can touch him, talk to him. I think it helps. I think he knows we're here. Once in while, he'll squeeze one of our hands."
Lindsay sat down, put her hands in her lap.
"This is um, strange," Kirsten said softly, "seeing Ryan like this. It's been hard on Sandy. You know, he's used to protecting Ryan and he can't do anything for him right now. And Seth, I mean, let's face it, he sees Ryan as indestructible. I still think a part of him doesn't want to accept that this is happening."
Lindsay nodded nervously, "I'm sorry. None of this would have happened if I didn't want to stay at the beach. Ryan wanted to go back to the house, but I wanted the ocean, and then we lost track of time. I've been nothing but trouble to you and your family."
"Lindsay, hey, no," Kirsten sat down next to her. "No honey, I didn't tell you those things to make you feel badly. I told you those things because I haven't had anyone else to talk to…since this began and I…you came in the room and it just felt right, to talk to you. I'm sorry. You're already dealing with so much, I had no right to dump my concerns on you."
Lindsay took a deep breath. "I'm so clueless. I'm sorry. Please, do talk to me. I want…us to be able to talk to each other. I just, I feel horrible that he's like this, that yesterday we were laughing and now he's…" Lindsay pushed her hair back; "I keep going over it in my mind, what if I had just given the guy my purse right away, or if Ryan hadn't fought back. What if we had just walked to the car a little earlier or a little later? You know what I mean? I can't stop thinking about it."
Kirsten stood up. "A lot of things about Ryan have changed since he moved in with us. But the core things that make him who he is, haven't. Ryan will never lie back while someone he cares about is being mistreated. It's one of the things that reminds me so much of Sandy. Speaking of which, I've been hogging the time with Ryan; it's Sandy's turn. I'll give you guys a few minutes alone while I go get my husband."
Lindsay waited until Kirsten had left before she gingerly stuck out her hand, with a finger lightly poked Ryan's bicep.
"Hi," she said quietly. "It's me. You look like shit Atwood."
She scooted the chair in a little closer, until the arm of it scraped against the side of the bedrail.
"Ryan, can you hear me? I'm here now. They wouldn't let me come earlier. The doctor convinced my mom that I needed like ten hours of bed rest. But I'm not leaving now, not until I know for sure you're ok. And you are going to be ok. Do you hear me? You're the best thing that has ever happened to me and I'm not going to lose you like this."
She settled her hand into his.
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His chest was tight, but there wasn't really any pain.
Talking.
Someone other than Seth.
Encouraging.
He tried to follow the conversation.
No commands, no one was telling him what to do, just a steady stream of soothing speak.
He struggled to link the familiar voice to a person and then realized it was Lindsay.
Her voice wavered, unsteady. He felt a kiss on his cheek, followed by something wet.
A hitch in her voice.
She was crying.
He lifted his arm to reach out for her and something abruptly stalled his effort. He remembered the frustrating sensation but not the cause.
She was close to him again, telling him, "I'm right here Ryan. Are you here too, with me?"
Her hand underneath his.
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Sandy needed a minute alone to think. Kirsten had fetched him, giving him an excuse to escape the waiting room and host duties.
He held his hands out in front of him, watched them as they shook.
Too little sleep, an abundance of worries, topped off with a straight shot of parental impotence.
In many ways he admired Seth. His son was at least honest with his terror over Ryan's condition. Sandy wouldn't allow himself the luxury of publicly admitting that seeing Ryan in the hospital bed was overwhelming and devastating. Any confusion of whether or not Ryan was still a child was settled the minute Sandy saw him, last night, swallowed up by the all-encompassing ICU.
"Ok Ryan," Sandy whispered quietly to himself. He took several deep breaths, scratched his left eyebrow. "Ok kid."
As he entered the room, he was met by an excited Lindsay. She swiveled around in her chair to get a look at him, one hand clamped tightly on Ryan's right one.
"He squeezed my hand," she clamored, wiped tears away with her free hand. "Ryan squeezed my hand."
"Well that's good news," Sandy smiled at her, hoped she wouldn't notice that he was too tired to fake all out euphoria. "I guess that means you better stay."
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"Are you still completely freaked Cohen?" Summer asked him. "'Cause that cute doctor guy said that Ryan is doing a lot better, so, that's good, right? You can stop being so Chicken Little."
They were walking. Where to, it didn't really matter. He had needed to get out of the stifling waiting room for just a few minutes, and hadn't even realized that she was tagging along until her perfect little slipper clad foot had blocked the elevator door from closing.
Seth stopped moving, looked out a window. People still living real life, people who didn't have a best friend in the ICU, were participating in the post-lunch rush to quitting time.
"I've decided to measure my paranoia in terms of how many tubes are sticking out of Ryan. We're still on high alert."
"That's not very scientific Cohen," she chastised him.
"Well," Seth bobbed his head, "I'm ok with not placing in the fair this year."
He continued to stare out the window, told her, "When I think about the fact that some bastard did this to him, and that he's still joy driving around in my mom's car, and doesn't even care that Ryan is…" He lowered his head, muttered, "I don't know, I don't know, I think if I had a gun, I could fucking…Or at least hire someone. I don't know, take out an ad? Something."
He felt her lift his head, found himself staring at her, tears starting again. He tried to shake loose, didn't want Summer to see him crying, but she held on tight.
"Hey," she raised on the tip of her toes, practically touched his face with hers, "Shhhh."
Kissed him softly on the lips.
"Summer," he asked quietly, hesitantly, "What is this? What am I suppose to think about this?"
"This is me, making you, feel better Cohen. Do you feel better?"
"Yeah," he nodded. "Most definitely." He kissed her back.
"Then don't think about it Cohen. Don't ruin it. Let me help you. Besides, I told the nurse we were kissing cousins."
"Hee fuckin' Haw," whispered Seth and closed his eyes as he kissed her again.
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Time was passing.
He was more aware, was getting better at comprehending what they were telling him.
They.
The other voices.
The voices other than Sandy or Kirsten or Seth or Lindsay.
"Ryan. Open your eyes."
He immediately did it.
He was going to win Best In Show he was becoming so freaking obedient.
Do what they want the first time and the quicker they left you the hell alone and let someone else come in.
Someone else who was Sandy or Kirsten or Seth or Lindsay.
This time.
This time he was gonna' stay awake long enough to…well, he was gonna' stay awake.
Start with a simple, obtainable goal.
His chest and stomach were starting to hurt; like the pain was crawling its' way out quicksand, slow, sometimes slipping back, but then emerging a little more.
His head never really ever stopped aching, always a dull throb. Sometimes worse, sometimes enough to even block the voices.
"Ryan?"
He shifted his eyes, momentarily panicked that he may have fallen asleep. They didn't like it when he dozed off mid-command. The light in his eyes usually followed and he had no desire for that evil thing to make a reappearance.
"Hey, so you are awake. That's great man. Nice to see you conscious. My name is Ted Elders. I'm your doctor. Yes, another one. I know, there are like a bazillion of us. Here's the deal. In order for you to lose this tube in your mouth, we need to kind of ease back on how much the vent is helping you breathe. We've been doing that a little bit, but it's time to get down to business. Right now, the vent's still pretty much doing all of the hard work for you, which is what it is supposed to do, help that lung of yours reinflate. But hey, all good things must come to an end right? So tell you what, I'm gonna' fidget a bit with this button right here…"
Ryan heard beeps, and then Ted resumed talking.
"There we go. So now my man, you are controlling the vent instead of it controlling you. Go on; take a breath, nice deep one. Oh, and I should probably warn you, it's going to hurt like hell. But hey, no pain no gain, right guy? Seriously, here, I have like the strongest hands in HOAG. Breathe and squeeze."
Ryan stared at him. His chest already hurt. He was supposed to now make it worse?
Voluntarily?
"Ok, maybe I wasn't actually clear on the whole breathing thing." Ted slowed down his speech. "Breathe in…not…don't breathe."
Ryan took a tentative, quick gulp of air. The vent allowed the attempt, but forced additional air in. He tore into Dr. Elders' hand, the pain flaring instantly.
"See, deep is the key. Until that vent is telling me you are doing all the work, you aren't getting off it. And believe me, you want to do this yourself Ryan, don't make us take over the job of weaning you, 'cause I promise, that's a whole 'nother bag of misery. What do you say, another deep breath?"
Ryan fought back a pressing urge to panic, concentrated on the ocean, waves rolling in, washing out. He timed his next breath on a wave leaving the beach, tried to hold out as long as he could, go as deep as he could, back into the salty water.
He was breaking out into a sweat, just trying to cope with the aftershocks of taking a semi-unassisted breath.
And he was supposed to do this all night?
Was this guy delusional?
"That was better Ryan. You are like hard-core man, seriously. The nurses are all a flutter about what an amazingly cooperative patient you are. Most of the action they see is old, wrinkly and angry."
Ryan took another breath, arched his back slightly with the accompanying pain. But it was a little better. He was ready for it that time. He felt the vent push in a much smaller amount of air.
"That's great Ryan, you're doing awesome. Tell you what. I have a surprise, a little thing I like to call 'Ditch the Soft Restraints'.
Ryan forgot about his breathing for a second. Shifted his eyes to meet Ted's. "Oh, got your attention huh? Figured that would. Now that you are somewhat back on the planet Earth, we're gonna' take one of these babies off and see if you maintain your blue ribbon for cooperation. Understand me Ryan? Fight me, go after that breathing tube or anything else attached to you, and the restraint goes right back on and doesn't come off until tomorrow at the earliest. It's all a test Ryan, to see if you are ready to start taking control again."
Ted tapped his head with an index finger. "Your noggin took a knockin'. I'm guessing you are well aware of that. And you need to prove that it's not affecting you adversely, understand? So here we go."
Ryan heard the doctor call for the nurse. He struggled to maintain some sort of breathing pattern, finding that if he fell behind, the machine inevitable forced oxygen in anyway. He was getting sleepy. It wasn't fair, really. He'd stayed awake all this time and no Cohens or Lindsay.
"Ryan, you still alive? Yeah you are, I see you breathing."
Ryan opened his eyes. Couldn't get them all the way open this time. Ted, the strange doctor guy, would have to settle for an unintentional glare.
"Ok, Sue, Ryan here and I have had a long talk and he is absolutely going to behave himself."
The nurse moved into position beside Ryan's left arm. "That's what I like to hear Dr. Elders," the woman answered casually, began unwrapping Ryan's wrist. "All done," she announced.
Ryan lay perfectly still, terrified that any movement would spell uncooperative behavior. When his next breath set his lungs on fire, he unconsciously used his free hand to steady himself against the bedrail, gripping it as tight as he could. The newly liberated hand helped. Gave his mind something else to do besides anticipate excruciating pain.
"When you fall asleep Ryan, we have to restrain you again. It's not your fault; it's just a natural reaction on your body's part to remove all these foreign objects from it. But for right now? Enjoy your freedom. Next time you wake up, we'll take them both off, ok? And," Ted glanced at his watch, "I don't get out of this place until tomorrow morning so, with a little luck, we'll have this tube out by midnight. You, my man, are teacher's pet. I mean it Ryan, I'm putting your desk at the head of the class."
Dr. Elders squeezed Ryan upper arm.
"Sue, I'm going to go update Mom and Dad, then I'll send them in. What do you say we give Ryan here a little something to take the edge off? I doubt that bed rail is going to make it through the night."
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Somehow, breathing was getting a little easier. He took yet another painful breath but shuddered a little less this time. His chest still felt like it was in a vise, but it was at least a vise that he was sort of controlling. It made him feel a little less edgy, a little more grounded.
"Open your eyes Ryan, your family is here. Don't forget to keep up your breathing."
Ryan shifted his head as much as he could manage given the constraints of the endotracheal tube attached to the ventilator.
Sandy and Kirsten…
And Seth.
Grinning like a fool.
"Finally," Seth buzzed. "Give a brother a break Ryan. 'Bout time you stayed awake long enough to listen to me bitch about my loathsome trip to the Emersons' I had to take. Let me tell you, my man Atwood. You? Got off easy."
Seth wound his way around to Ryan's left side, nudged his unrestrained hand.
"We forgot our fundamental rule Ryan; stay together or people get hurt."
He lifted up his hand for a high five. Ryan managed a waist high one, barely clearing the bed rail.
"I'm only giving you a two for that Ryan. That's middle-high two. No five today. I'm being generous with the two."
From the other side of the room, Sandy commented, "I'd say given current conditions, that was sufficient."
"Yes indeed," Seth agreed.
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"So he's really awake?" Marissa asked hopefully.
"Well no," Seth changed his answer. "I mean he was awake, which is, you know, extraordinary for a guy that was like in a drug induced coma fifteen hours ago. But he's asleep now. They have him on about ninety painkillers and I guess he's still sedated a little bit. The um, nurse said he should wake up in about three hours and then they are going to keep him awake long enough to get rid of the breathing tube."
"That's great, I told you guys Ryan would be fine," Summer purred.
"So where are your parents?" Marissa asked, either ignoring the familiar sexual tension that was returning to Seth and Summer's relationship, or completely clueless to it.
"They uh, they went to a bigger lounge downstairs to crash for a few hours. My dad is so over-caffeinated, I'm surprised he hasn't stroked out. And The Mom is like on the verge of remodeling this waiting room, so you know, she could use a little down time to rechannel the stress."
"This has been awful on them Cohen. When Chino gets out of here, we are so going to drag both your parents in for a deep tissue massage."
"And Lindsay?" Marissa continued to map out everyone's whereabouts.
"She um," Seth's face reddened a little, "She's in with Ryan. We both, her and I, promised to take this shift."
"Well, that's really good," Marissa reasoned and Seth wondered just who she was trying to convince. "I mean, Ryan should have people in there that he cares about."
Seth dropped his shoulders a bit. "Ryan still cares about you Marissa."
"I know that," Marissa forced a smile. "It's been great, being friends with him. I just meant, he's with Lindsay now, so it's better this way. Sum and I are pretty exhausted anyway, so, we should take off."
"Yeah," Summer agreed. "I mean, ew, no shower today. But you'll call us," she jabbed a finger into Seth's chest, "With any news, got it?"
Seth chuckled, put his hand over her finger, and returned it to her side.
"Whoa, slow down there Quick Draw. Pinkie swear to call if anything of interest develops."
He quickly interlocked pinkies with each of the girls, walked them to the elevators.
"Thanks, you guys." Seth pushed his hair back, kept his hand plastered on his head. "For coming down. I um, I really appreciate it. I'll tell Ryan you were here."
He spoke to both of them, but focused in on Summer, pursed his lips together, poked her playfully in the stomach. "So, Grande Nacho thank you, you little Candy Striper you, delivering your hospital cheer. But next time, I want gum."
"Maybe next time you'll get it," she said mysteriously, winked at him and got in the elevator.
As the door closed, Seth gestured his patented cheesy smile wave.
Where in the hell things were going with him and Summer he didn't have a clue. But she proved something today. She still cared for him and about him and that, for now, was enough.
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"On three Ryan, deep breath, hold on tight, and blow out like hell."
Ryan's heart raced. He was scared. He had spent most of his waking hours trying hard not to imagine how the tube got in his throat in the first place. Now he had to actually take an active role in removing it.
"One."
He frantically locked eyes with Ted.
"Head of the class Ryan. You're my current overachiever. This is gravy compared to everything else you've been through."
"Two."
His eyes narrowed in on the respiratory specialist's hand as it gripped the breathing tube.
"Deep breath now Ryan. Blow out."
"Three."
The sensation of the tube grinding against the back of his throat stole the breath from Ryan. He was sure he blew out, but the rest of the ordeal was engulfed in the most painful experience of his life- coughing post collapsed lung.
Damn, he was barely breathing and now his lungs were threatening a walk-out.
How the hell was he supposed to cough and still stay alive?
Tears started rolling down his face as he struggled to get some air in. The coughing and gagging sensation was causing something in his stomach to spring to life and he tasted a horrible substance spewing out of his mouth.
"Shit, get me a mask," he heard Dr. Elders say, while other hands directed his head over a pink Tupperware looking thing.
Not much came up, but what did was thick and dark. Ryan gulped and gasped. He was dizzy, felt his head droop forward into the hands already supporting him.
"Ryan, calm down and breathe."
Novel idea, he thought. If he wasn't passing out, he might try it.
His vision started to collapse in on itself, expanding inward, advancing like a black hole.
He was aware of being flopped back onto the bed like a fish, carefully, but still enough to cause some pain. He flinched, moaned, took in breaths much too quickly, making high pitched hitching sounds.
The black took over.
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"Ryan, wake up. What are his stats?"
"His pulse ox reading is ninety-two percent and his respiratory rate is 14. Do you want me to ambu?" Sue reported, anxiously rifling through the crash cart for supplies,
"Not yet", Dr. Elders responded. "Let's switch him to the non-rebreather at eighty percent oxygenation stat."
Ted's voice, not so much a surfer dude anymore, more like a drill sergeant.
"Ryan Atwood. Wake up now Ryan."
Ryan's hand reached for the uncomfortable oxygen mask. The tube still up his nose combined with the oxygen mask was driving him crazy. Someone intercepted his hand, placed it to his side.
"Na-uh. I seriously need some nice deep breaths Ryan. You're pushing the limits of my comfort level here buddy. Give me something to prove to me that we're not in over our heads."
Ryan's instincts kicked in. Always do what they tell you to do the first time, or more poking, more prodding. Don't piss these people off, they have total control.
With both hands now free, he gripped the sides of the bed, took a deep breath and almost passed out again from the pain.
"That's it," Ted aligned himself with Ryan's barely open eyes.
"Give me another one."
And so it continued until Dr. Elders gave Ryan a pat on the head, Sue gave him an ice chip and some lady he had never seen before took off his vomit stained gown and dressed him in a new one.
Naked in front of total strangers was bad.
Finally comprehending what landed you in the hospital was even worse. Although exhausted from the ordeal of extubation, Ryan studied his body. There were bandages and ugly bruises everywhere. There was a fucking tube sewn into his side, skinny tubes sewn into his chest, right below his collarbone. Little white circles, attached to wires, all around his upper body. As the nurse moved the blanket down further to assist Ryan with putting on the clean gown, he caught sight of the Foley catheter and suddenly realized why periodically his dick felt like a small man was drilling it for oil.
"All done," the woman cheerfully announced. She didn't tie the back and Ryan wondered why she even bothered at all to put anything on him. The gown slunk down, barely staying above his shoulders.
Upffff, his head.
The coughing had caused a volcanic reaction in his brain. He was sure gray matter was leaking out from his ears. He reached up to rub his temple and froze as his hand came in contact with a huge bandage.
And scalp. No hair, just skin.
He scratched at it to be sure. It felt weird, almost like rubber.
He was bald.
Not everywhere he deduced, as he frantically felt the other side of his head for evidence of hair. It was still there, on the left side.
But gone on the other. How much hair he was missing, he didn't have a clue.
He didn't want to know.
"Ryan," Sue said his name softly. "Your throat must be killing you honey, have a few more ice chips."
She gently removed his hand from his head, put it to his side, lifted the oxygen mask long enough to slip a few more chips in.
Ryan couldn't stop his macabre scavenger hunt. He gingerly felt the area around his face. If his head was shaved, maybe there was damage to his face.
"Ryan."
Sue again.
"Honey. It's ok. You've been pretty out of it. You're tired, you've just been extubated. Close your eyes, don't worry about all this. Things will seem better in the morning. I'm going to give you something to help you relax you a little bit."
He let the drug wash over him, was a good little boy, took his deep breaths, didn't try and remove the oxygen mask. His lungs were two heavy stones that he was somehow managing to keep afloat. His head was a hollow drum, vibrating with each little noise.
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Ryan's current doctor made Sandy uneasy. He reminded him of about a dozen friends at Berkeley, all of whom had been too stoned to graduate.
But, to give the guy credit, he had promised that Ryan would be breathing on his own by midnight and sure enough, it was 11:38 and evidently Ryan was on schedule.
"He lost consciousness?" Kirsten asked worriedly. "What does that mean? Is the head injury getting worse?"
"No, not at all Mrs. Cohen." Ted shook his head. "Despite the NG tube, Ryan managed to vomit some bile. That action caused a coughing episode and he just couldn't catch his breath, momentarily wasn't getting enough oxygen. But he was only under a matter of seconds, thirty, forty at the most. He's doing exceptionally well now, although I do have him on a non-rebreather oxygen mask. This isn't unusual. Most patients require some amount of assistance following extubation. We'll keep an eye on his lung of course, make sure it's keeping up its' end of the bargain. And he'll be monitored constantly for his oxygen saturation levels. But don't worry, your son continues to impress me with his tenacity. I'm sure he'll work like hell to avoid another intubation."
Ted scribbled something in a frayed notebook.
"I have other patients I need to check on, but I'll be around, definitely within the next few hours, to monitor him and begin some simple deep breathing exercises with Ryan. Everyday it'll get a little easier. I used to work strictly in Pediatrics. Kids never cease to amaze me with their recuperative abilities. In the meantime, Ryan could use a friendly face in there. I'm quite sure he thinks we were trying to kill him."
Sandy and Kirsten told Seth and Lindsay to sit tight, wait for them.
Ryan's room was dark, less light than there had been since the ordeal began. It seemed more like a typical hospital room, less like a neutral zone between the living and the struggling to stay alive.
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He heard the nurse in the background. "I just gave him some Ativan, Mr. and Mrs. Cohen. He was getting a little agitated. It's a good sign, really. Ryan is becoming more and more aware of his surroundings and naturally, it's a little unsettling. But he's turned a corner. He's cooperating fully, not the least bit combative. He's clearly responding appropriately to verbal instructions."
A slight shuffling of feet.
Ryan squeezed his eyes shut.
He didn't want to see anyone, have anyone see him.
He felt like Frankenstein, a freak on display.
He could hear his pathetic breathing, couldn't hide how much pain he was in.
"Ryan?"
Kirsten's soft voice.
He turned away from it; ground his head into the pillow.
More shuffling of feet.
Ryan cracked open one eye. Sandy stood next to him. He was trapped, Kirsten on one side, Sandy on the other.
"Hey," Sandy squatted down. "What's going on? You're doing terrific, Ryan. The doctors are all impressed with how much progress you've made."
Ryan felt a tear slip out. What the hell? He hadn't cried since his dad had been arrested. These damn drugs were making him unstable, turning him to mush.
"Ryan, it's ok. Are you in pain? Do you want me tell the nurse?"
Ryan tugged at the oxygen mask, lowered it, rasped out a sound, swallowed, regrouped, tried again to communicate.
"I don't understand why I'm here."
Breathy. High, like human helium. He didn't recognize his own voice, was shocked by how much that one sentence took out of him.
"Do you remember anything Ryan?"
"No," he shook his head, clenched his eyes at the pain the movement gave him.
"I parked the cars. I drove people home. Did I crash one?"
"No sweetie," Kirsten joined in, "Ryan you did absolutely nothing wrong."
"I don't understand any of this."
Sandy leaned in close, Ryan was fading, his voice with him.
"I'm bald."
"Only partially," Sandy corrected him. "Ask Caleb, there's a big difference."
Painful deep breaths. Somewhere along the way, Sandy's hand replaced the bedrail.
A barely audible, "You had to come home early."
Sandy replaced the oxygen mask, brushed back Ryan's hair, thumbed away a tear.
"We never should have left."
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End of part 9