What a Pain! – Chapter Seven
By the time Johnny and Chet were ready to return to Rampart, the cat was sitting outside on a lounge chair looking as smug as a cat could, while the guys surveyed the house, admiring their work. Though it was true Mike's house was rarely ever in a state of chaos, the events of the day had left it looking like a war field. Since Johnny had already scoured the bathroom, he and Chet moved on to clean the kitchen. After tidying up after the cat, washing down the cupboards, and disinfecting the sinks, they picked up all the leavings from Squad 10, then scrubbed away every last drop of blood from the carpet.
Chet beamed, "We did a lot of work in the past hour, Gage, but I have to say, it looks pretty good." Then his eyes wandered to the patio doors, where the cat was now sitting.
Johnny agreed, "Yep. Somehow it didn't even seem as bad as cleaning up in the station sometimes, either." Glancing at his watch, he said, "Oh, hey, it's pretty close to eight o'clock; how about we just grab a bite at the Dairy Queen on the way to Rampart?"
Chet was distracted by the sight of the gray cat, staring at him from behind the glass of the patio doors. "Huh? Oh, uh, yeah, sure. Dairy Queen's good, whatever."
Johnny was amused, "Chet, I think I could have told you your mustache was on fire and you wouldn't have noticed. Whatsa' matter, cat got your brain?"
Chet shot a dirty look to Johnny, and then continued to stare back at the cat. "No, he doesn't have my brain. I was just wonderin' how he does that."
"Does what?"
"How he manages to get humans to give him whatever he wants without being able to speak." Chet answered. "I mean, he got Mike to that fire, he got Mike out of that fire, he convinced you to go down the hall to find Mike, AND he told you he needed to go outside, and all he did was meow."
Gage chortled, "You, Chet, haven't spent nearly enough time around animals, or you'd have already figured that out. They just have a way of communicating to humans. I can't explain how I know when one of my horses isn't well when they don't show it, or how this cat got me to let him out, it...just happens."
Chet was offended, "What do you mean I don't spend enough time with animals? Have you forgotten about Sarge, my dog? We are pals, pal. This dog and I know each other..."
Johnny just rolled his eyes and, not being in the mood to listen to Kelly expound on the superiority of dogs versus cats, he decided to let the subject drop. "Whatever you say, Kelly, whatever you say. Let's just get going, eh? We're gonna be late." He stopped long enough to put a bowl of water and a chopped up hotdog on the deck for the cat to eat while they were gone.
"Gage...a hotdog? Cats don't eat hotdogs," Chet scoffed.
"Look, Chet, a cat will east whatever it can get if it's hungry enough. I've never known a cat to starve to death when it has food available. Besides, it's all there was to give him. I'll pick up some cat food on the way to Rampart. Let's go."
Gage and Kelly jumped into the VW van and headed to the DQ for a bite. Though they both were getting tired, they were still anxious to see how Mike was faring, so they hurried along.
Mike Stoker had just been moved from recovery to ICU and was sleeping peacefully. His handsome face was a mass of bruises on the left side from behind his head all the way around to his nose, and was swathed in white bandages. His left shoulder, also deeply bruised, had an extra pillow underneath it and a large ice pack on top of it. Although pale and still, Dr. Early was comforted that so far, the young man seemed to be getting along well. Time would tell how the surgery went once the man woke.
He was sure it wouldn't be long before Mike's friends would show up. He knew the routine, and he smiled. The men would arrive en mass and, although it would be past visiting hours, they would plead their case and either he or Dixie would give their consent for one or two of them to visit at a time. They would congregate in the waiting area and stay until someone finally booted them out for the night. Sure, it was technically against hospital policy, but they were his friends as well as occasional patients, so he supposed he could bend the rules now and then.
Dr. Early walked out of Mike's room and, as if on cue, saw the crew of 51 entering the waiting area. Captain Stanley approached him and asked, "Well Doctor Early, how's our man? Has he woken up?"
Dr. Early smiled, "No, not yet, Captain, but I look for that to happen soon. His vitals all look good and he's resting well. Would you like to see him?"
"Can we?" Captain Stanley asked. "I mean, I realize this if after visiting hours and all, but ..."
Dr. Early patted the man on his shoulder, "Let's just say, I figured you'd be coming in tonight. You guys go on and sit down, I'll clear it with the nurses to let you go in two at a time for 5 minutes a visit. Let's not take all night though, okay? Mr. Stoker needs his rest."
"I understand, Dr. Early, thank you so much. Marco? You want to join me, pal?"
"Sure, Cap, thanks," Marco said as he rose from his seat.
ICU was never a quiet place, and Mike's room was no exception. He was lying still and appeared comfortable as Cap and Marco approached the bed. It was a sight Cap didn't ever think he'd see. He picked up Mike's hand, unsure if it was the right thing to do. "Hey, Mike, it's Cap. Uh, looks like you're doing good...I, uh, hope you'll be waking up soon. Um, Dr. Early said everything went really well, so..." Cap didn't really know what to say to his friend, and the silence had him on edge.
Marco stood on the other side of Mike's bed and started to rub lightly on Mike's forearm. "Yeah, Mike. We're all here tonight. You be strong, okay? We're going to leave for a bit and let two of the other guys come in, okay?"
They were about to leave when they noticed Mike's eyes fluttering. Thinking he might be waking, they summoned Dr. Early. Joe flicked the penlight across Mike's eyes, checked his heart rate and respirations, and concurred that Mike was indeed rousing from his sleep.
Mike's eyes opened halfway and he became frightened when he realized there was a tube in his throat and another one snaking into his nose. His eyes widened and he looked around, not really registering where he was or who the people were who were watching him. His panic increased and his breathing became rapid, struggling against the rhythm of the vent. He weakly turned his head, which caused a sharp, blinding pain to shoot across his face. Dr. Early and Captain Stanley could tell that Mike would soon be in distress if this wasn't dealt with.
"Mike? It's Cap. Calm down, son. It's okay, just relax...calm down..." Cap placed a hand on Mike's uninjured shoulder and his deep voice was soothing. Mike focused on it as his eyes still roved around the room, trying to clear the fog his brain was steeped in.
He fought the ventilator, and Dr. Early told him, "Mike, we can go ahead and remove that if you like. Just settle down a bit and we'll have Respiratory up here in a few minutes. He turned and stepped out of the room just long enough to have a nurse page a Respiratory Therapist. In a few minutes, the therapist arrived and Cap and Marco were asked to step outside of the room. The vent was removed, Mike was re-situated, and Cap was allowed back in. Marco graciously allowed his Captain to have some time alone with his second in command.
"Mike?" Cap said, gently, "How can I help you, pal? Are you thirsty?"
Mike simply gazed at Cap, wracking his brain, trying to understand who the man was who was speaking. Finally realizing it was Captain Stanley, Mike tried to speak to him. "Caaaaa?" Mike groaned. "Waaa... haaaaend?" Startled by the lack of control he had over his own voice, Mike tried again. "Caaaaa," he whimpered, "hehl... meeeee?" The desperation in Mike's voice was breaking Cap's heart.
Cap knew his engineer needed reassurance. "It's okay, Michael, I promise. You bumped your head really hard and the doctor here needed to fix you up. You had surgery this afternoon, but you're going to be okay. We're here for you, pal. We're not leaving you alone."
Mike couldn't help feeling afraid, but the deep resonating sound of his Captain's voice helped calm his fears. "Iiiiiiii...ssssssoorrrrr...Caaaa," Mike told him as unbidden tears fell from his eyes. He was beyond scared; he was terrified and he hoped the grip of the hand he felt on his would never leave.
"Son, don't apologize for being afraid. You're strong, Michael. You're going to be okay, I promise," Cap continued his calm reassurance, "I know you're scared, but..." his voice cracked, "you're not alone. The guys and I...we're going to be with you through this. You just rest now, okay?" His hand clasped Mike's even firmer as he watched his friend fall asleep again. It would be a long haul, but his fierce dedication to his men didn't know an ending point, and he knew the entire crew of 51s felt the same.