A/N: Thank you very much for all your feedback from the last chapter. I was
surprised at how fast you responded. And I have discovered that you all are
smarter than me. I hadn't even thought of a lung transplant but fortunately
my own intuition seems to have saved me. I went and read about lung
transplants and it specifically says that people with kidney or liver
problems should not have such a surgery. Well, Ephram had liver problems.
So, he can't have a transplant. It's kinda funny actually I didn't even
know any of that when I wrote about Ephram having trouble with his liver.
Oh well, I don't feel like adding all this into the chapter. So here's your
explanation. Ok, read and review, please. Thanks for your encouragement
guys. I really appreciate it. Ciao.
Chapter 11: A Decision He Couldn't Make
How was he supposed to make a decision like this? How could he be expected to decide whether his son lived or died? He wouldn't do it. He couldn't.
Andy rubbed the side of his face, flattening his beard. He stood in the doorway of ICU 10, gazing at his son, trying to make a decision he couldn't make.
Looking at Ephram like this, it was terrifying to imagine the once living, breathing young man look like this for the rest of his life. The sterile, impersonal, cold atmosphere in the hospital room had produced an even worse sight than the one he had seen in the parking lot of Mamma Joy's. Ephram's thin frame made him appear so small underneath the thin stiff hospital blankets, his skinny body swallowed up by the large bed. His frighteningly pale skin almost matched the clean white bandage wrapped around his head, making the deep cuts and large bruises on his face seem to stand out in livid, bright reds and purples.
Andy wondered briefly, morbidly why they had set Ephram's arm in the large white cast, knowing that he probably wouldn't live long enough to heal the broken bone. Continuing on the path of morbidity, he glimpsed the thick bandage covering Ephram's side and leg through the thin hospital gown that provided him no protection from the refrigerated cold of the large hospital and wondered why they even bothered.
Andy's eyes traveled up Ephram's body, noticing the thinness of his legs under the blanket, the needle stuck into his pale hand, and the thick white ventilator tube taped to his mouth. The tube was the only thing that kept his son alive and for a moment, Andy closed his eyes and dreamt of seeing his son in this same hospital bed with the same injuries, the same sterility, but without the large metal ventilator. Unfortunately, when he opened his eyes, he saw that even that terrible sight was better than the one he viewed now.
Andy tried to imagine this room five years from now. It would still be cold and white. Ephram wouldn't have all the bandages covering him but his body would have wasted away, the thin legs mere chopsticks, the IV sticking into a bony, white hand. Even after he recovered from the blood loss he would continue to be as pale as the blanket stretched over him, his skin never again feeling the touch of the sun. The tube would still be there, causing his chest to rise and fall weakly, a machine breathing life into his lungs.
Sure, he would be alive, he might have even grown, maybe he would have sprouted a few inches, losing the roundness of youth, gaining the sharp edges of manhood, but the eyes would never open again. The nurses who combed his hair, washed his face, and brushed his teeth would never know the eyes of the man they bathed every day. The new doctor who longed to have the life support kid off his caseload would never have seen the way light reflected like a million tiny rays of sun from the green irises when he laughed. The various housekeeping staff who came in to empty the trash of old IV bags would never see the way his eyes appeared almost totally gray when it rained and the sun hid behind the clouds. Everyone moving around the silent man in the bed, not knowing that when he was angry his pupils would enlarge and the tranquil jade would flash dark green, almost black.
Andy couldn't stand the image flashing behind his closed lids, or the one he saw when he allowed the lids to drift open. So, he closed them again, hoping for something better.
Once again he saw a body lying in a bed, but this bed was covered in a thick white and yellow bedspread and the body was smaller and more feminine, with its eyes wide open. Sadly, the big brown eyes of the little girl were filled with tears and her thin frame shook with sobs as she clutched a brown book in her hands, tears leaking onto the pages that read, 'I am grateful for...'. Her nose ran and her hands trembled as she turned the pages. She was clothed in a black dress and all her hats lay forgotten and uncared for in a heap on the floor. A destructive search to find the one and only hat her brother had ever given her had left the hats in the mess. She had wanted to wear it when she said goodbye. The girl slowly stood from her bed, straightening her dress and smoothing her hair, but not bothering to wipe away the tears, knowing they would only come back. With one last glance around the room and a little sob that slipped uncontrollably out of her mouth when she couldn't find the hat, she laid the book on the bed and walked out of the room, flicking a switch and leaving the room in darkness, not seeing the shaft of moonlight that peaked through her window and onto a small blue hat, resting on the closet floor, stuffed between a shoe and an ice skate.
Andy knew the decision would be easy if these were the only images he saw, but his biggest problem was that the second set of images would still be true, only without the black dress.
Andy knew. He had made the decision he couldn't make.
Chapter 11: A Decision He Couldn't Make
How was he supposed to make a decision like this? How could he be expected to decide whether his son lived or died? He wouldn't do it. He couldn't.
Andy rubbed the side of his face, flattening his beard. He stood in the doorway of ICU 10, gazing at his son, trying to make a decision he couldn't make.
Looking at Ephram like this, it was terrifying to imagine the once living, breathing young man look like this for the rest of his life. The sterile, impersonal, cold atmosphere in the hospital room had produced an even worse sight than the one he had seen in the parking lot of Mamma Joy's. Ephram's thin frame made him appear so small underneath the thin stiff hospital blankets, his skinny body swallowed up by the large bed. His frighteningly pale skin almost matched the clean white bandage wrapped around his head, making the deep cuts and large bruises on his face seem to stand out in livid, bright reds and purples.
Andy wondered briefly, morbidly why they had set Ephram's arm in the large white cast, knowing that he probably wouldn't live long enough to heal the broken bone. Continuing on the path of morbidity, he glimpsed the thick bandage covering Ephram's side and leg through the thin hospital gown that provided him no protection from the refrigerated cold of the large hospital and wondered why they even bothered.
Andy's eyes traveled up Ephram's body, noticing the thinness of his legs under the blanket, the needle stuck into his pale hand, and the thick white ventilator tube taped to his mouth. The tube was the only thing that kept his son alive and for a moment, Andy closed his eyes and dreamt of seeing his son in this same hospital bed with the same injuries, the same sterility, but without the large metal ventilator. Unfortunately, when he opened his eyes, he saw that even that terrible sight was better than the one he viewed now.
Andy tried to imagine this room five years from now. It would still be cold and white. Ephram wouldn't have all the bandages covering him but his body would have wasted away, the thin legs mere chopsticks, the IV sticking into a bony, white hand. Even after he recovered from the blood loss he would continue to be as pale as the blanket stretched over him, his skin never again feeling the touch of the sun. The tube would still be there, causing his chest to rise and fall weakly, a machine breathing life into his lungs.
Sure, he would be alive, he might have even grown, maybe he would have sprouted a few inches, losing the roundness of youth, gaining the sharp edges of manhood, but the eyes would never open again. The nurses who combed his hair, washed his face, and brushed his teeth would never know the eyes of the man they bathed every day. The new doctor who longed to have the life support kid off his caseload would never have seen the way light reflected like a million tiny rays of sun from the green irises when he laughed. The various housekeeping staff who came in to empty the trash of old IV bags would never see the way his eyes appeared almost totally gray when it rained and the sun hid behind the clouds. Everyone moving around the silent man in the bed, not knowing that when he was angry his pupils would enlarge and the tranquil jade would flash dark green, almost black.
Andy couldn't stand the image flashing behind his closed lids, or the one he saw when he allowed the lids to drift open. So, he closed them again, hoping for something better.
Once again he saw a body lying in a bed, but this bed was covered in a thick white and yellow bedspread and the body was smaller and more feminine, with its eyes wide open. Sadly, the big brown eyes of the little girl were filled with tears and her thin frame shook with sobs as she clutched a brown book in her hands, tears leaking onto the pages that read, 'I am grateful for...'. Her nose ran and her hands trembled as she turned the pages. She was clothed in a black dress and all her hats lay forgotten and uncared for in a heap on the floor. A destructive search to find the one and only hat her brother had ever given her had left the hats in the mess. She had wanted to wear it when she said goodbye. The girl slowly stood from her bed, straightening her dress and smoothing her hair, but not bothering to wipe away the tears, knowing they would only come back. With one last glance around the room and a little sob that slipped uncontrollably out of her mouth when she couldn't find the hat, she laid the book on the bed and walked out of the room, flicking a switch and leaving the room in darkness, not seeing the shaft of moonlight that peaked through her window and onto a small blue hat, resting on the closet floor, stuffed between a shoe and an ice skate.
Andy knew the decision would be easy if these were the only images he saw, but his biggest problem was that the second set of images would still be true, only without the black dress.
Andy knew. He had made the decision he couldn't make.
