Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to numb3rs or the characters therein. All characters are fictional and should not be associated with any other person, real or imagined.
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"Welcome back, Donny." Dr. Wang greeted his patient with a gentle handshake. "I see you've been working hard." He nodded towards the stars sticking out of Don's pants pocket. Smiling, Don rubbed the charts with his fingertips.
Charlie, Alan, Don and Dr. Wang were waiting with a radiologist in the observation room adjacent to the MRI exam room. Olivia had dropped the Eppes men off, reminding Alan to stop by her office on his way out and pick up Don's eating tools; she would clean and organize them during the interim.
Pointing to the changing room door, Dr. Wang informed Don, "Since you've done such an excellent job, I think you deserve to see someone special." Don looked at the door expectantly, pleased to see Debra coming towards him. He ran up to her and stuck out his cheek, waiting for a kiss. She complied, asking him, "Have you been a good boy, Donny?"
Charlie was immediately at his brother's side. "Don't call him good boy," he demanded. He understood the play-acting for the occupational therapy, and the child-like needs that his brother still required to have met. But Charlie could not get the image of a tongue-lapping dog out of his mind every time he heard that particular phrase. And he was not going to stand by and let anyone use it on his brother.
Debra was taken aback. A flush appeared on her young cheeks. Looking over to Dr. Wang, she stammered, "I'm sssorry. I, well, it just seems to get him to do what I say."
She was given a chastising look from her superior. "I think Professor Eppes is correct. We might have to handle some of Donny's issues as if he was a child, and we might have to explain some more complex things to him for that exact same reason, but we should not directly refer to him on a regular basis as a boy."
Don ignored the exchange between the people around him. His attention was on his favorite nurse. Debra was surprised and pleased that he followed her into the changing room and complied with all of her demands. The demeaning phrases were not necessary to get her patient to do as he was told. One kiss was enough to make him succumb to her every request.
"During the first MRI we gave Donny, he was extremely anxious," Dr. Wang explained to Charlie and Alan. "Though we gave him a sedative, he still kept moving. We'll sedate him again, but it would be a good idea if one of you were to accompany him into the room to keep him calm." Charlie quickly volunteered, rushing into the changing room to put on scrubs like his brother; and to keep an eye on Debra, fearful that the young nurse might say or do something else to Don of which he would not approve.
"I have a questionnaire for you to fill out. You only have to address the areas highlighted in yellow." Wang gave the papers to Alan. "We gave Donny thorough x-rays when he was first admitted. Considering his line of work, we were afraid he might have some bullet fragments imbedded in his body somewhere. Since the MRI emits a magnetic field, any metal in or on his person would be a problem. Luckily, we did not find anything."
As Alan filled out the forms, he asked Dr.Wang about the diuretics. "Do you think medication will be enough to drain that, uh, fluid sitting, uh, on his brain?"
"If the intracranial pressure were at such an elevated level that his brain was being compressed and he was at risk of cells dying, we would have operated and put a shunt in immediately. As it is, the increased pressure is minimal. We believe that the problem is overproduction of the cerebrospinal fluid, because there was no indication on his original MRI that he had any physiological blockage to prevent it from being reabsorbed. This time, the pictures we take will be more extensive. We want to be able to see even a minute drop in pressure between the MRI he is having today and the one he will have after he has been taking his diuretics for a week."
"So, he'll take a pill everyday and that's it?"
"Actually, he'll be taking two types of diuretics. The effects of the first lead to a limitation in the production of the cerebrospinal fluid; the second diuretic is the type more commonly used, and the kind you are probably familiar with. It will cause a flushing action to occur in Donny's body, which will help dispel the first diuretic from his body along with excess fluid. The two work most effectively as a team."
"How often does he take these medicines?"
"He needs to take the first diuretic four times a day, a half-pill each dose; the second one is a whole pill once a day. We'll monitor the effects weekly and determine if he requires an increase in dosage. Over the next six weeks or so, the baseline pressure should normalize and the body should become self-regulatory again. Then, we can take Donny off the medication."
"And if his body doesn't take care of the problem?"
"Then he will have to take medication to regulate it until it does… or for the rest of his life." Wang tried to reassure Alan. "I have confidence that Donny will pull through. Whatever injury was originally incurred, he has managed to come through with minor damage. Most of his problems are from lack of immediate therapy and care, as well as the psychological issues that Dr. Thompson contributed."
Remembering Jim's earlier evasiveness in referring to Don's psychological care, Alan broached the subject of psychotherapy with Dr. Wang. "Why didn't you assign Donny a psychologist?"
Avoiding Alan's question, Dr. Wang continued to talk about the diuretics. "Make sure you read the warnings on the label thoroughly. Donny can not take aspirin. If he has a headache, give him the pain medicine I prescribed. You also need to limit his liquids to six cups a day, including foods like soup or ones that melt into a liquid form, like Popsicles."
His mind back on the medicinal therapy, Alan asked, "Won't drinking six cups of liquids make Donny use the bathroom more often?"
"Yes, but we don't want him to dehydrate, either. And remember, he will be taking in less liquid than he had been while drinking all those bottles everyday, which I assume you will cease feeding him as of today?" Alan gave an affirmative nod. "For the first week or so, the body will be flushing out stored water and Donny may have bladder difficulty. In time, the body will adjust to the diuretic and that won't be a problem. Then, Donny will just need to avoid caffeine, which has the same effect as a diuretic. For now, because we also don't know what kind of bowel control he has, he'll need to wear incontinency briefs- just for a week or two, at most. By then, you'll know if they are necessary in the long term."
Alan frowned. Jim had brought up the subject earlier, but it hadn't crossed his mind that Don would have to wear special briefs. It made sense, of course, as taking the two diuretics and changing his diet would probably be a major adjustment for his body to make. However, Alan wasn't sure Charlie would understand- he might take it as another attempt to force his brother into regressive, as opposed to progressive, behavior. Being an older man, Alan did not necessarily see it the same way. Wryly, he thought of how many men he knew his age that were wearing the briefs, but would not be doing so for a mere two weeks.
When Wang did not continue, Alan brought up the psychologist again. "It sounded as if Jim was surprised you did not assign Donny psychotherapy."
The men looked into the MRI exam room as the technician made preparations for Don. "Mr. Eppes, I must confess that I overdid the physiological causes of Don's problems- for the sake of you gaining conservatorship. Unfortunately, when I filed the reports with your insurance company, they made it clear they would not pay for any psychotherapy until I had the results of Don's physical therapies. Even if I send you to someone that isn't part of this institute, the costs per hour can be quick expensive. I do apologize."
"So what does that matter?" Charlie spoke up from behind them. Alan and Dr. Wang turned to him. While Debra led Don into the exam room, Charlie held back, pointing out what he thought was a foregone conclusion. "My dad and I can pay for the therapy out of pocket." He was puzzled when his father did not readily agree with him.
"Excuse me, but maybe you two need some time to discuss this over." Wang made an unobtrusive exit.
"Is there something I'm missing here?" Charlie stood in front of his father, waiting through the beats of several minutes before he received an unexpected answer.
"Most of the money from the sale of my business is gone, Charlie. The cost of this place, that lawyer Johnson, and the anticipated co-payments on Don's therapy…they'll be soaking up the rest." Charlie rubbed his neck, thinking while Alan hurried up and assured, "I'm not broke- not by a long shot. There's my pension payment, of course, and Don is still getting a partial paycheck. But I don't know what other things might come up, and if we can wait on the therapy…."
Charlie looked to the ceiling, tugging down on his hair. Options were presenting themselves, and he was trying to decide which ones were the best for Don. "If Wang had said we should wait, I would accept that, Dad. But he didn't. He sounds like he's trying to save us money." Charlie thought of a solution to their financial concerns, but one he wanted to keep private for the time being. "I want Don to have everything he needs- and everything he wants, if it'll help him improve." He looked pointedly at his father. "Even if it's only to make him happy. I meant it when I said it's hard to see him crying and sad all the time. Whatever it costs, I'm going to pay for it. And that includes the psychotherapy."
"You have that much money left from your consultations, Charlie? I thought you spent most of it on Don's campaign, and, lord, that two-hundred grand reward you paid?"
"Yeah, I did spend the majority of my money on all those things. And next month, I'll only be getting a partial paycheck, too. I could call my contacts and do some more consultations." He let the idea hang in the air, but not for long, as Alan swiped it aside.
"No, Charlie. If anyone has to go back to work, it will be me. Stan would hire me. Don needs you right now. Jim and Olivia have made it clear this is going to be a full-time job, and you don't have time for that outside work."
Charlie did not argue. He knew he wanted to spend every moment he could with Don, and his offer to consult had been a polite proposal, but not one that was serious. He already knew what he was going to do, and did not want his father to know because he was sure that the older man would try to talk him out of it.
"I guess we'll have to brainstorm about this later. In the meantime, let's set up an appointment for Don. I have a feeling something will come up, solve our problems." With that, Charlie joined his brother in the exam room, leaving a worried father behind him.
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Charlie henpecked the workers handling Don, making them mumble threats of injecting more than a mild sedative into the chronically moving and demanding professor. The barium swallow earlier that day had involved x-rays, something he felt were given everyday. But the term MRI set his mothering instincts into overdrive.
"He's not lying in the exact center of the exam table," Charlie pointed out. "Be careful, he might fall off." A nurse pretended to move Don over. "Are his legs supposed to be in that position? Won't he be uncomfortable?" A nurse asked Don if he felt okay; receiving a positive answer, she turned to Charlie, who showed no confidence in the response. When another nurse pulled out a syringe with the sedative, Charlie stood behind her, explaining loudly in her ear, "Don doesn't like needles. Isn't there another way to give him the sedative?" Ignoring him, the nurse plunged the needle into Don's arm. Charlie looked over the nurse's shoulder, his body pressed against her back and weighing her down, making sure she wasn't hurting his brother. When she was done, the nurse stepped back suddenly, Charlie almost falling on his behind as he stumbled backwards. "Oh, excuse me, were you standing there?" she said. Blind to the sarcasm in her voice, Charlie rebounded back to Don's side as the technician took a transducer out and was about to place it around Don's head. "What's that for? Will it hurt him? You know, he's not supposed to have anything heavy on the front of his head?" Sighing, the technician looked to Dr. Wang for help, but only received a shrug. What could he do about a worried brother?
The MRI machine was a bright white tunnel with an exam table extending eight feet from its entrance. Don was lying on his back, his knees bent over a white, triangle-shaped cushion. Dressed in scrubs, he tried to lie still. He remembered the last time he had been in the machine. Before they began, the person in charge of the procedure had told him he couldn't move, and afterwards had informed him that it had taken a lot longer because he did not listen to her. This time, he was determined not to move. He wanted the experience to be over as soon as possible. The first reason was because the loud noises the machine would dispersedly make throughout the exam scared him. He was grateful for Charlie's presence, and was sure he would not be so frightened this time. The second reason was because Debra had taken Buddy, promising to sew the slight tear in his bottom. Don could hardly wait to check the rabbit. Like Charlie and his concerns about him, Don could not help but worry that Debra would not treat the rabbit as well as he would himself.
After placing the doughnut-shaped transducer around Don's head, the technician planted Charlie a few feet from the machine. "Don't go anywhere." Not able to help himself, Charlie quickstepped to Don; their eyes met. "I'll be here the whole time. You have nothing to worry about." The technician grumbled as she took Charlie by the arm and put him back into position. "You can talk to him from here. This is going to take almost an hour. Every time you move, he moves, and we can't get an accurate image, which means this exam will take much longer. Do you want to get out of here at ten o'clock tonight?" Charlie just blinked at her, not understanding the threat. When necessary, he was used to staying up all night. Heck, if they left at three the next morning, it would be nothing to him.
"Charlie." Alan talked to him through an intercom system that went into the room. "Will you please do what she says? Maybe you can be up all night, but Donny and I are getting tired." Seeing a small yawn shaping Don's mouth, Charlie finally stood in place, though he nervously tapped number patterns on his right arm with his left fingers.
An hour later, Don emerged intact from the machine. Charlie ran his hands over his brother's arms and legs, peering closely at his head, as if he thought the machine had been chewing on Don instead of examining him. When they finally left the room, the MRI crew all said a quiet prayer of thanks. They might have waited to say that prayer, however, if they had remembered the brothers would be returning in a week.
"The technicians will go over the images and write a report," Dr. Wang explained to Charlie and Alan in the observation room, Don worriedly looking over Buddy, who Debra returned the moment he had emerged from the exam room. "We'll have the results in a couple days. In the meantime, I want to give Donny his diuretics."
"I'm concerned about him taking the solid pill," Alan said nervously. "Won't he choke on it?"
"Before Donny gets dressed, let's go to my office for a moment. I have a simple solution."
The three men followed Wang down to his office. Taking a small plastic container with a lid from a small refrigerator behind his desk, Wang opened it up to reveal apple sauce. Finding a spoon he usually used to stir his coffee, he scooped up a portion of the sweet sauce and then pushed a pill into it. "Come here, Donny, and take a seat." Don did as he was told, fidgeting as he sat down in front of Wang's desk. Looking to Charlie, Wang rhetorically asked him, "You know how to massage his throat while he's swallowing, yes? Come do so while he swallows this pill." After Charlie got into position, Wang gently pushed the food into Don's mouth. Instinctively, Don tried to chew, but swallowed before the pill was crushed. Charlie pulled down and the pill slipped through Don's throat and into his stomach, sliding with the apple sauce. Taking a small pill from another container, Wang snapped it in half, put it on the tip of his finger, and dropped it into Don's mouth. The tiny piece of pill slid down his throat without assistance from Charlie.
"See now, that wasn't so bad. Put the larger pill in the apple sauce and it will go down that easily every time." Wang smiled at Don, giving him a soft pat on the shoulder. "Now, let's get you dressed and ready to go. You've had a busy day and could probably use some sleep. Before you leave, though, I have a little present for you." Wang picked up a set of three boxes from his desk. "These are some free samples the medical companies gave me. They're the correct dosage that Donny needs for that first diuretic, and should last eight weeks. You give him two complete pills everyday; one-half a pill four times a day. As for the other diuretic, here's a bottle with seven pills- a week's dose. I'm afraid I don't have any more samples I can give you. You'll have to fill the prescription and make the co-payment." He placed the boxes in a bag and handed them over.
Taking the boxes, Alan thanked him profusely. "This is more than generous."
"Well, most of my personal clients tend to be high-end. We do get more middle-class clientele in our outpatient services, but, as I've said before, I don't tend to deal with them."
Dr. Wang escorted the Eppes men back to the changing room, discussing Don's therapy schedule with Alan. "You realize that Don will have set times from now on. When his hour is up, that's it. We only allot the extended time you were given today for initial consultations."
"I guess that's something else I should thank you for," Alan observed.
"Wait until you receive those co-payments, then decide how grateful you really are. Um, one last thing- did you want me to make Don an appointment with a psychologist?"
Alan thought about Charlie, and how determined he was about Don receiving all the therapy that he needed. "Yes, we would like that very much."
"I'll give you a call as soon as I'm able to schedule an appointment."
They were standing in the MRI observation room, the building eerily quiet without the technicians and nurses busily working around them. The outpatient portion of the institute was shutting down, medical personnel were leaving, and only two security guards were left on detail. Wang's crack security team was limited in its duties to the high-maintenance patients in the separate front building, in which a lucky dozen people were admitted and treated.
"Dad!" Charlie called from the changing room. Wang and Alan quickly responded to the note of concern evident in Charlie's voice.
Debra was rubbing a cream over Don, front and back below the waist. With an accusing expression on his face, Charlie demanded, "What's she doing?"
"Professor Eppes, your brother is taking two types of diuretics. He will obviously need protection from accidents. He will have to wear incontinency briefs."
Understanding shifted the look on Charlie's face. But he pondered the cream. "What is she rubbing into him?"
Wang smiled. "Well, it is hot out, and plastic rubbing on skin does tend to cause rashes." Great, Charlie thought, could this be any more humiliating for Don. Wang tried to soothe Charlie's concerns. "Please, understand, most likely it will only be for a couple weeks. Until his body adjusts to the effects of the diuretics and we know how much control he has over his bowels. Right now, he is emotionally indifferent to the experience. But if you act as if it is degrading to him, it will become so." Charlie understood. Everything Don felt about his treatment would center on how Charlie and his dad reacted to it. So, he decided to behave as if it was just a small adjustment in Don's wardrobe.
Alan, though, was frowning, lines digging trenches in his forehead, worried about something he thought would be of much more interest to Don. "Dr. Wang, shouldn't Don…?" He wasn't sure how to phrase the question. "You know, Debra is young and attractive, and she's, well, you know…"
"Ah," Wang said. "It was in his file: underarousal. Not untypical with brain injury."
"I remember reading that word, but I didn't understand what it was. You mean he won't be able to have…?" Alan did not want to put words to his thoughts. He was afraid that doing so would make it more real.
"I can't answer that, not specifically. We can't be sure what's causing it; maybe the brain is not receiving the signals that would normally tell his body to respond. Or it may be psychological, but I am really not in favor of that opinion. Considering our current situation, I would expect Don's body to respond, whether he wants it to or not, so I think the problem must be a physiological one. If it does not improve, there are of course medicinal solutions."
Catching on to the conversation between Alan and Dr. Wang, Charlie formed the same opinion as his father. When Don got better, that would probably be one problem that would be foremost on his mind. And he did not think he would want to be taking any little blue pills as compensation.
"Please," Dr. Wang asked them, "don't worry about this right now. Donny has a long stretch of rehabilitation before him, and I do believe a relationship with a woman will be the furthest thing from his mind."
Watching Debra finish getting Don dressed, Alan and Charlie individually hoped that what Wang said was true, each praying that 'a relationship with a woman' being the 'furthest thing from his mind' would also include the non-sexual but twisted one that Don had with Dr. Thompson.