Part Eight
Jim hurried down the hall, intent on asking a nurse to call Dr. Ramanatha. Thoughts of what Blair had endured chased through his head, making him feel queasy. The whole time that Jim had been sitting in the waiting room, indecisive about what the hell to do with his feelings of unease; Blair had been nearly tortured to death a few hundred feet away.
And he was angry, but he didn't fully understand who that anger was directed at, the doctor or the hospital staff that participated in the surgery or maybe even himself. He should have been willing to help Blair explore alternative options.
The nursing desk was manned with one young lady dressed in colorful scrubs. She was talking on the phone, but that didn't stop Jim from saying, "Excuse me." She lifted her eyes to look at him, giving a brief smile before raising her index finger signaling him to please wait. But whoever was on the phone could wait, this was more important. "I need to get a hold of Dr. Ramanatha about one of her patients, Blair Sandburg." She continued to speak into the phone, Jim catching medical jargon. Phrases like, 'guarded condition', respirator oxygenation, blood count.
He opened his mouth again when another nurse walked behind the counter, looking his way and asking, "Can I help you, Sir?"
"Yes," he shifted his attention his way. "Yes, I need to get a hold of Dr. Ramanatha about Blair Sandburg." The man's fingers flew across the keyboard in front of him. "She's not due until later this afternoon. She's in surgery at the moment. Do you want…"
"Jim?"
He turned to see Missy walking toward him from the elevator.
"I heard he's awake." Her smile could have lightened up the whole hall if not for the fact that Jim wasn't in the mood to make polite conversation. "Have you been in to see him yet this morning?"
"I've been here all night." He turned from the nurse, directing his anger at one of the people that had helped hurt Blair. "He told me he was awake during the surgery."
She stopped mid stride, her smile dropping, a look akin to horror passing over her soft features. "He…he what?"
The two nurses behind him had stilled and Jim could sense that they were equally horrified, relieving just a small bit of Jim's righteous anger. "Awake," he repeated. "How the hell is that even possible. Someone screwed up and Blair paid the price."
She seemed to snap out of her paralysis and began walking toward him again. Jim realized that he had been yelling and it was early, some patients might still be sleeping. He told himself to calm down as she approached him, taking him by the elbow to the small family waiting room at the end of the hall.
"It's not something that happens often, but it can."
Jim sunk down in the chair, guilt now vying with his anger. So it could have really happened? Up to this point he was willing to concede the possibility, because Blair believed it had happened and yet a part of him was hoping that once he talked to the right people they would tell him that it was impossible, that maybe Blair had had a bad reaction to the anesthetic, that he was just hallucinating, vivid but not real. "Oh god." He sunk down in to the chair, the queasy feeling was back and he felt red hot.
She sat in the chair next to him, patting one of the hands that rested limply on his lap. "It's called Anesthesia Awareness. There are only a few hundred documented cases a year, and the degree of awareness varies."
"A few hundred!" A few hundred? "Why have I never heard of something like this happening?"
"Well, as you can imagine, it's not something that hospitals advertise. In fact until recently it wasn't even considered a possibility. I remember reading an article a few years back about a patient who could recount the conversations in the OR. She was believed because it wasn't a faint notion of awareness or pain or random memories from the proceedings."
"But what…how?" Jim couldn't believe what he was hearing and then he suddenly remembered Blair's past experience when he had broken his arm. "Could that be why he felt pain when he had his arm set? We both knew about…"
"No, Jim. That was a local given by an incompetent doctor."
He frowned at the bluntness of her statement.
"The medicines given during surgeries are vastly different. In Blair's case he was given a type of sedative and a paralytic. He shouldn't have been able to feel anything or have any concept of time passing, but if the sedative failed and the paralytic was doing its job, he wouldn't be able to move to tell anyone that he was aware."
My god…the thought of Blair fully aware and in pain, but unable to open his eyes or even lift a pinky finger to signal anyone…it was too much.
"I need to talk to him." She said, standing suddenly. "And I'll contact Dr. Ramanatha, the board will get involved."
He jumped up too. "Wait, wait…what would cause something like this, why Blair? And is that what caused the catatonic state?"
She started moving toward the door, Jim in tow. "It's not been widely studied since it's so rare." She told him. "It's thought that some people have a higher tolerance and need more medication then the anesthesiologist would normally use. High anxiety could cause the medication to loss some potency and there could always be human error, machine malfunction." They neared Blair's partially closed door, but before she could cross the threshold, he grabbed her arm.
"You mean the man giving the medicine? He could have made a mistake?"
She turned to him again, placing a slender hand on his shoulder. "Yes, Jim…I'll get in touch with the board and there will be an investigation."
He wasn't sure if he was satisfied with that answer, but he also didn't know what else he could do, beyond running a criminal background on everyone involved, look for complaints made, malpractice proceedings. "Can you stay with him for a bit?"
"Yes, I'll stay. What are you going to do?"
"I need to check on a few things. Call my bo…some friends and let them know what's going on."
She sighed, taking a little breath. "Okay, but we'll figure it out ok? Blair's been though an incredible physical trauma, he might need counseling, so lets…"
"Don't worry, Missy. I know what I'm doing."
*~*~*
His eyes snapped opened and he looked frantically around the room, his heart beating triple time, and then it started to settle.
Blair was still alone.
He couldn't be sure how long Jim had been gone, but he wished he would hurry the hell up.
He felt hot and muzzy, but tried to lay as still as possible, panting as new pains let themselves be known. Maybe they would give him something soon, because even though what he felt was mild by comparison, he didn't want to be feeling anything at all.
Moving his head slowly toward the door, he saw the plate lying on the tray table that had been drawn up and over his lap. The congealing eggs and soggy toast had been left within his reach and he remembered that Jim had told him he had to eat before he could go home, but just the smell of the cooling food turned his stomach.
He used the fork to scoop up some of the more solid parts of the yolk, gagging even as he put it in his mouth. The eggs popped back out and dribbled over his lips and landed on the front of his hospital gown.
He reached for the napkin tucked under his spoon, but a sharp pain in his stomach stopped him mid reach and he could feel tears springing to his eyes and his thoughts went back to the pain he had felt earlier.
Shaking his head he decided he didn't want to go there, didn't want to revisit that place ever again.
Yet he felt so close to tears again, his emotions so close to the surface, but he refused to let them fall.
Everything that had happened since he had first woken up was fuzzy and confusing, his memories of that pain fading, his brain working to shut out those feeling, but every time he moved, tiny jolts of normal post op pain would plunge him back to the past.
His face felt tight and he's eyes hurt but his body felt mostly numb, especially if he lay very still.
He carefully raised his right arm looking at the IV lines, the white tape against his darker forearm, then to the partially collapsed bag and wondered what they were giving him.
The medicines might have had a hand in his emotions, but he knew if he didn't get control of himself they might want to keep him longer, think he was unbalanced and that thought started off a new wave of anxiety.
Missy stepped through his door, closing it quietly behind her. She studied him for a second before moving closer to the bed, taking his hand. He tried not to pull away, knew that she was not the one responsible for what had happened to him.
"How you feeling?" she asked, smoothing her hand up his arm. "I talked to Jim and he told me what happened, I'm so sor…"
"Don't be," he said. "It's not your fault." He sank back a little into the bed, feeling a little more in control. "When can I go home?"
She lowered the bed rail and perched on the end of his bed. "Soon. Do you want to talk…"
"Um…no. No, I'm okay now. I just really want to get out of here, ya know?" He looked down at his lap, spotting the dribble of egg still on his chest, but when he reached for the napkin again, Missy got it and wiped at the stain.
"It's not yours either," she said as she gently scrubbed at the front of his gown. "You didn't do anything wrong to cause what happened, it just does sometimes."
He nodded his head as his throat closed a little and the tears were back, waiting to fall.
"It's not widely documented, but it happens rarely. I'm gonna let Dr. Ramanatha know what happened to you and they'll investigate. But even if they can't find the cause it wasn't you, okay?"
He let go a shaky breath, nodding his head. "I know."
"Good." She looked down at the plate of eggs and wrinkled her nose. "Ya know, they're not mine, but the little café next door makes a pretty good waffle…what do ya say, wanna try them?"
He wanted to say no, didn't want to eat, not yet anyway, but he found himself nodding his head anyway.
"Okay, then I'll just call in an order. How about some fresh coffee or maybe tea?" She picked up the phone that sat unnoticed on his bedside table, dialing then turning to him.
"Um…tea would be good, I guess."
A little later a nurse came in to take his temperature and blood pressure, look at his belly and incision site. Missy asked her to keep him company for a few minutes and slipped from the room.
"How's your pain, Mr. Sandburg?" She asked, still fiddling with the IV lines.
"Okay, I guess."
She smoothed down his blanket and plumped his pillows. "I've talked to Dr. Ramanatha, she's gonna be up in awhile to evaluate your condition, but I have orders to get you up and around after you eat. I can get you something for pain if you need it, just let me know."
"Okay." He was afraid to get up, afraid that the pain would be too great, but then again, he wasn't getting out of here until he jumped through all their hoops.
"How about we get rid of some of these tubes?" She suggested, stopping the trickle of the mostly collapsed bag hanging on the pole, picking at the tape on his forearm and removing the flexible tube, but leaving the catheter in. "Just a precaution." She explained, taping down the end of the port so it wouldn't catch on anything.
She bent by the side of the bed, probably capping the urine collection bag and then stood, pulling up his blanket near his knee. He stayed still as she picked at the tape on his lower stomach, and then tensed as she fiddled with the tubing between his legs. "Just breathe normally, relax."
He tried, blowing out a lungful of air. He could feel the tube being swiftly pulled out and his penis being wiped down, his gown pulled back into place and the blanket righted.
The rustling of plastic bags drew his attention to the door where Missy stood, holding two insulated cups and a bag.
"I'll be back to check on you a little later." The nurse left as Missy moved closer.
"You're looking better." She told him, covering the plate of eggs and moving it over, putting down her bag and cups. "I got you some tea." He watched as she unpacked two carryout containers, laying out the plastic forks and napkins along with little glass bottles of real maple syrup. "Yum, smells good." She smiled at him and he tried to smile back.
He was feeling better, but still a little hot. Just being unhooked from some the tubing helped, made him feel a little more in control, a little more like himself.
He was halfway through his waffle, chatting in between mouthfuls as Missy sat in the chair, her feet propped up against his bed, enjoying her own food.
"Smells good in here."
Blair actually smiled when Jim walked in the door, but he pushed his food away, choosing to sip on his tea, the warmth of the cup felt good in his hands and when he took a sip it soothed his sore throat.
He wondered where Jim had been, but figured he would tell him once Missy had gone.
"I've actually gotta do a little work today." Missy said, tossing her container in the trash. She leaned over the rails and kissed him on the forehead. "But I'll be by a little later to check in on you. See ya, Jim."
"Talk to ya later." Jim said, snatching Blair's half eaten waffle and fork. "You look like your feeling better." He said, shoving a huge chunk of cold waffle in his mouth.
Blair nodded, watching as Jim grimaced, but speared another piece with his fork. "I feel a little better." Jim finished off his leftovers and tossed out the trash.
"I talked to Shelly before coming in. She said she took out the tubes. She should be in soon to get you up and around and then maybe we can blow this joint."
It sounded good to him. He wanted to go home, but the need wasn't all consuming like when he had first woken up in the morning.
His eyes felt heavy and began to droop. He could hear Jim move around the room, turning on the TV, turning down the volume. And then the noise from the hall invaded his small room, being cut off again as the door closed and the voice that greeted Jim sent a new tendril of fear down his spine.
His eyes snapped open and he could see Dr. Ramanatha approaching his bed. Her lips were moving; a soft smile on her face, but Blair couldn't tell what she was saying. All sounds were blocked out by a tremendous roaring in his ears and his vision dimmed, he couldn't get in enough air and he was hot, so very hot.
Jim's face swam into his sight; he was speaking urgently, his hands reaching out toward Blair along with Dr. Ramanatha's, but he pushed back into the pillows, trying to get away.
He had to get away.
"Noooo, no, no…don't touch me, no." He squeezed his eyes shut only to see the leering face of David Lash. "Oh, god…" His eyes shot open again, but only Jim remained. He was holding onto Blair's arms, speaking so quietly that Blair had to concentrate over the fading roar in his ears.
"It's okay," Jim was saying. "It's all over, your safe now."
He shook his head, trying to get himself under control.
"It's okay," Jim repeated. "Calm down, Chief. Breathe nice and slow."
He tried to slow his breathing, tried to still the shaking of his body.
"Nice and slow, in and out…that's it, Blair."
He could hear his breathing evening out, the rapid beat of his heart slowed and fluttered in his chest.
"It's just a panic attack, you're okay, just breathe...breathe with me."
He thought that he was alright, that he was getting better, but now…if just the thought of the doctor touching him caused such a reaction.
"I want to go home," he murmured, leaning into Jim's steadying arms, sucking in quick gulps of breath. "Please, Jim…I just want to go home."
*~*~*
TBC
