I did some research for this chapter since I needed to know some medical stuff. Initially, I intended for the doctors to use a defibrillator (a device with electrical paddles) to try to shock Cody to life because that's what I'm used to seeing in healthcare dramas. However, when I looked online at what doctors do for flat lined patients, I found that they actually do CPR. Apparently defibrillators are for slowing the heart down when it's beating too fast. Who knew! :)
Also, I researched CPR. In movies, people do about five compressions. I'm pretty sure it used to be that way. But now the rules have changed. According to the Red Cross, you're supposed to do thirty compressions and then two slow breaths. Just thought I'd mention that so no one is confused.
Well, that's all. I hope you enjoy the chapter!
Disclaimer: I still do not own The Suite Life series.
There was a constant high-pitched beep coming from the monitor that recorded Cody's heartbeats. He'd just flat lined. Dr. Maps pressed his hands on Cody's chest, one on top of the other. He was going to perform CPR. He didn't know if it would work; the bullet was still lodged in the boy's chest. But it was the only thing he knew of to do. He couldn't take the bullet out until he'd gotten the boy's heartbeat back.
There were three other medical professionals in the room too. They were all running around, fiddling with the machines. Dr. Maps paid little attention to them. He began a series of compressions. One, two, three, four, five…
Once he hit thirty, he bent over, touched his lips to Cody's, and gently blew two full breaths of air into his lungs.
He began pressing again.
"Come on, kid!" he begged. "Don't do this! You can't die. You're too young to die!"
He reached thirty again and bent to blow two more breaths into him.
The monitor was still beeping. The green line on the screen was still flat.
"Please!" Dr. Maps implored. "Please, kid!"
Dr. Lee, his assistant, looked at her watch. "Doctor," she said softy.
Dr. Maps ignored her, beginning the compressions yet again.
"Doctor!" Dr. Lee repeated. "Sir, you should stop now. There's nothing more we can do. He's gone."
"NO!" Dr. Maps yelled, still continuing to press. Eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve…
"Sir, it's been over two minutes." Dr. Lee touched her hand to his shoulder. "It's time for us to call it. We did what we could. We were just too late."
Dr. Maps stopped pressing. He gazed down at the boy, and then buried his face in his hands and whimpered. "Oh, no…" Tears slid down his cheeks as Dr. Lee pronounced Cody Martin officially deceased.
Dr. Maps had been a doctor for many years. He was in his forties; his hair was naturally auburn but it was starting to turn gray, and his forehead was developing creases. He was very intellectual. He loved what he did for a living because the idea of saving lives was always rewarding in his opinion. He wouldn't trade his career for anything.
But he was also very compassionate—more so than most of the other doctors in the hospital—and it killed him to admit when he lost someone he tried to save. Young people especially. The thought of losing someone who'd barely gotten the chance to live was intolerable to him. It was worse for him than it was for Dr. Lee. She cared about people, just as he did. But unlike him, she was more willing to own up to the fact that she could not humanly save everyone who needed saving. "People die," she would tell Dr. Maps, over and over again. "It's the way the world works."
But Dr. Maps' heart refused to acknowledge that.
"We should go tell his family," Dr. Lee declared. "They're in the waiting room. You want to do it? Or should I?"
Dr. Maps didn't answer her. He stared sadly at the motionless form of Cody on the bed. What a waste. What a sad waste. He had been told what Cody did to himself. Zack informed him about the .45-caliber, the shot, the blood. It's so tragic. This poor boy needed help.
The other professionals were busy disconnecting the machines and turning them off. Since the patient was dead, they were no longer necessary. But before they shut off the monitor, a miraculous thing happened…the green line on the screen peeked and a singular beep sounded. Everyone braced themselves. It did it again. And again. And again.
Dr. Lee had almost left the room when she saw it. She was shocked. This couldn't be happening. Cody was clearly dead. She'd just pronounced him dead. A dead person's heart couldn't beat. But there it was, right in front of her—the truth. Dr. Lee didn't believe in miracles. But this made her think about starting to.
Dr. Maps checked Cody's breathing. It was stable. His heartbeat returned to normal. He didn't particularly believe in miracles either, but he wasn't going to argue with what was directly in front of his eyes. He let out a sigh of relief. "Okay," he said, "we've gotta get this bullet out of him now."
They began prepping Cody for the operation.
…………
The waiting room was an agonizing place to be for Zack Martin. He sat quietly in his chair, sandwiched between his mom, Carey, and his dad, Kurt, transfixed by the regular comings and goings—by the sight of strangers crying and comforting each other—anxious to hear about his brother. He'd been sitting for well over an hour and his butt had already gone numb. His mom had tried to interest him in going to the cafeteria to get some food, but he wouldn't do it. He didn't trust himself to eat; with the way his stomach had constantly been cramping lately, he was sure anything that went in was guaranteed to come back up.
His parents hadn't moved either. Carey had remained in her chair for as long as Zack had remained in his. In her hands, she clutched the blue blanket Cody had prized as a child; he'd called it his "blankie" and would use it to wrap himself up or shield his eyes when he was scared of something (he got scared easily when he was little). He'd left it with her when he went off to Yale, and she thought it appropriate to have it with her now. She'd sobbed into it multiple times. It was still wet with her tears. Kurt had kept rubbing her back and trying to convince her that Cody would be okay, even though it sounded like he was trying to convince himself as well.
Aside from comforting, none of them had really spoken to each other since arriving at the hospital. They didn't know what to say. Someone they loved very dearly had just tried to take his own life. It would have been one thing if Cody had been shot by someone they didn't know—still horrible, but simpler to react to in a way because it would have been easy to hate the culprit. But the notion that Cody would shoot himself was something else entirely. What were they supposed to say about that? What were they supposed to feel? They couldn't hate Cody, could they? No, they could never hate Cody. They could be pissed off at him…they could be confused by him…but they could never hate him.
At one point, Zack had closed his eyes. When his mom asked him why his eyes were closed, he said he was praying. And he was. Zack didn't pray much; he wasn't devoutly religious. But it seemed like the only thing he was capable of doing to help Cody. He was worried beyond his own reasoning and he figured that if the doctors couldn't save his little brother, then God might. Cody's a gentle soul, Zack assured himself. God wouldn't let him die. His mother enfolded him in her arms and began to cry again.
Now they were sitting silently. Carey kept her head down, pretending to be intrigued by the pattern on the carpet; Kurt did the same, keeping his arm slung around Carey's shoulder; Zack gazed straight ahead, blatantly staring at the white wall in front of him.
Eventually they saw Dr. Lee approaching them. All three immediately got to their feet. Zack's stomach was doing summersaults. Oh God…oh Jesus…please.
"Mr. Martin," Dr. Lee said, addressing Kurt. Then she turned to Carey. "Ms. Martin. I have some good news—Cody is alive!"
They all simultaneously breathed in respite. Zack's stomach calmed down a little.
"For a moment," Dr. Lee continued, "we lost him. He flat lined. I had to call him dead."
"Oh…God!" Carey bowled over, more from alarm than from grief, and wailed. "My baby! My baby! Kurt, our baby died! He died,Kurt!"
Shock had overwhelmed Kurt as well. His arms trembled as they scooped up Carey, and his voice was nearly inaudible as he muttered, "But he's—he's okay now, Carey. He's alive. Don't worry, he's alive. They saved him."
"Yes," Dr. Lee cut in, "he is alive. But he's not out of the woods yet. The bullet still has to be removed."
"You mean you still haven't taken it out?" Zack asked, surprised.
"We couldn't. Not for the time being. When he flat lined, our main concern was trying to bring him back…and we managed to do that, thankfully. Now we have to perform surgery on him. Later I'll come back to let you know how the operation goes." She turned on her heels and started to walk away.
"Wait!" called Zack. "Doctor, how badly is he hurt…I mean, do you think you could get the bullet out—um—easily?"
"Easily? No. But you should stay positive."
Zack swallowed. "I see." His voice shook. "Do you know where the bullet is exactly?"
Dr. Lee nodded. She did know. They had taken x-rays of Cody's chest when he was rushed in. Her expression became sympathetic. "It's sitting just behind the thoracic aorta, probably within the diaphragm muscle. We'll have to perform a thoracotomy on him."
Zack didn't know what a thoracotomy was, and he didn't ask. The word sounded bad in and of itself. It sounded like a form of torture. He wasn't sure he wanted to be filled in on the gritty details of emergency procedures. All he was certain of was that Cody's chest was going to be cut open. His chest. One of the most fragile parts of the body. The part that Cody himself had already damaged. They were going to slice it open even more.
There was only one thing Zack wanted to ask. "What would you say are the chances of his survival?" That was the real question—that one that lingered in Zack's mind. What were the chances? What was the ratio of whether or not they would get to take Cody out of there, or have to bury him?
Dr. Lee looked into Zack's eyes for an elapsing minute that felt longer than it really was. "Usually, thoracotomies do more harm than good," she confessed. "But it's the only thing we can do for a case like this. They have been successful now and then, but…it's rather rare."
The blood drained from Zack's head, making him feel arctic and looking like a ghost. He had to sit back down to keep from fainting. No, no, no, no…
He heard his mom on the floor, bawling even louder. It was a wonder she hadn't run out of tears yet. His dad was still holding onto her, though he was crying too. Zack couldn't remember ever seeing his father cry before. It was disorienting.
"Think of it this way, though," Dr. Lee told Zack softly, "your brother flat lined and he's still okay. That is extremely rare. If he could pull through that, he could pull through this."
"You think so?" Zack questioned, clinging on to any string of hope he could find.
"Just think positive. Have some faith in him."
With that, Dr. Lee disappeared into the hallway.
Have faith in him? How? He was the one who put himself in this situation. Zack's mind was a montage of worry, sorrow, confusion, and hope…very little hope.
............
The first thing Cody saw when he woke up was a bright light shining in his face. He couldn't remember anything after passing out. One minute, he was in Zack's room dying; then the next, he was lying on a bed, looking up into a light that was blinding him. It was blurry at first, and Cody thought it was beautiful. He considered that it might be the light at the end of his tunnel—that he'd succeeded in taking himself out of the world and was about to enter heaven. He wanted to reach for the light, to make sure that it was real. But his arms felt so heavy. He couldn't move. Maybe I'm caught in limbo, he thought. And then he panicked. The idea of being caught in limbo seemed worse than being alive. He would be trapped forever, in purgatory.
Then, after a minute or two, his eyes began to adjust and he realized that the light was nothing divine. It was fluorescent. He was still in the world after all.
There were voices—very muffled at first, but growing clearer by the second. "He's awake!" gasped a man.
"Thank God!" replied woman.
"Check his vital signs!" a third woman added.
Cody could feel gloved hands running along the course of his body, pushing against his skin.
"Damn!" said the man. "This kid has a heart of steel!"
A heart of steel, Cody repeated mentally. Well, that was just perfect.
Though Cody could barely move, he managed to tilt his head just far enough to see that he was in a hospital emergency room. There was an I.V. in his wrist, a tube in his nose, machines. He felt exhausted. Heavy. Half-dead.
I was supposed to be all dead.
His eyelids were like lead. He couldn't keep them up. Finally, he decided it was best not to try.
"He's going back to sleep again," intoned one of the women (Cody couldn't tell which). "The drugs haven't wore off yet."
"They will soon," added the man.
Cody succumbed to his drowsiness and drifted off.
…………
When Cody woke the second time, he found himself alone. He wasn't drowsy anymore. In fact, he felt wide awake. When he looked around, he could tell that he was in a different room. He was wrapped securely in a warm blanket and the tubes were all gone. His body still felt heavy though. He felt like he was made of lead.
The silence was a bit nerve-wracking, especially since he didn't know where he was. His thoughts were his only source of company, and he welcomed them.
I wonder how Zack is. He wasn't supposed to see me…or, more accurately, I wasn't supposed to see him. I was supposed to already be gone by the time he got there. I still can't get his face out of my head. I'm never going to be able to, I know that.
I'm sure he told our parents about what I did. I wonder what they thought when they found out I tried to kill myself…and failed. God damn it, I should have just left the gun in my mouth. I shouldn't have worried so much about punishing my heart; I should have kept my focus on getting dead. That was the whole idea, wasn't it? Getting dead. Now I'm condemned to living like…like an invalid.
Cody felt the tears well in his eyes.
That's what I am now. An invalid. A fucking disabled person. And what's worse, everybody'll think I'm crazy. They'll all think I'm disturbed. I'm NOT disturbed. I'm just hurt. That's all I ever was—hurt! Sick and tired of this fucking world. I never wanted to upset my loved ones. I knew I would, but that was inevitable. It seemed a small price to pay for freeing myself. They would have healed. They would have moved on without me.
Why did I have to be saved?
Suddenly, a man wearing a lab coat walked into the room. He appeared to be in his forties, with a semi-creased face and relatively dark hair that was going gray along the sides. In his hands, he held a clipboard with some papers on it.
His eyes met Cody's and he gave him a discomfited smile. "Hello, Mr. Martin. I'm Dr. Maps. I'm the one who presided over your surgery. You're in the recovery room now. Do you know how lucky you are to be in here?"
There was a lump in Cody's throat. A tear escaped his eye and slid down his cheek. "Why did you do this to me?" he asked, his voice cracked with emotion.
Dr. Maps was stunned. "Do what to you?"
"Why did you bring me back? Why did you bring me back here, to this shit-hole of a world? Why didn't you let me go, huh?" Cody swallowed hard, trying not to cry. "Why didn't you just let me go?"
There was a chair next to the bed where Cody was lying. Dr. Maps sat in it and stared Cody down disapprovingly. "Where was it you planned on going?"
"I don't know. Someplace better? Someplace where…where it doesn't hurt so much." Cody flashed Dr. Maps a desperate look. "If you'd only let me go, I could have been there by now!"
There was a long moment of silence between Cody and Dr. Maps, in which they did nothing but gaze at each other, trying to analyze each other's emotions.
Then a hopeful thought struck Cody. Maybe it's not too late. I failed this time but I could try again. Sure, my family will be watching me like hawks now, but they can't possibly watch me every single second of every single day. Maybe I could find time to do something else…like find pills. I would prefer using a gun, but that's no longer an option. Fat chance of me getting my hands on a gun anytime soon. Pills would probably be my best bet. They'd work. And they're everywhere.
Dr. Maps seemed to have read his mind. "You're not going to try to kill yourself again," he said seriously. "I'm turning you over to a psychiatric facility. As soon as you're fully recovered, you'll be sent to Fairoaks Asylum here in Boston."
His words sent a shiver down Cody's spine. Fairoaks Asylum? "You're sending me to an asylum? A nut house?"
"You clearly need help, Mr. Martin. I don't think family support is going to be enough. I think it best that you get exposed to professional psychiatrists who can find out why you're so...disrupted."
"Disrupted?" Cody shouted. He was furious. "You think I'm mentally disrupted? So you're sending me to a shrinking place?"
"I just want to help you, kid." Dr. Maps glanced down at his clipboard. "You don't know this, but when you were in the ER, you flat lined. Do you know what that means?"
Cody didn't answer, but he knew what it meant.
"It means that, technically, you died. We lost you. And I remember looking at you, thinking how sad—how wasteful—it was that a young man like you would do such a thing to yourself." Dr. Maps paused. Cody thought he saw the man tearing up. "I met your family. Your brother Zack—he's your twin, isn't he? I spoke to him. I spoke to your parents also. They're such great people…and they love you."
Dr. Maps wiped his hand across his eyes and sniffled. For the first time since Dr. Maps came into the room, Cody averted his eyes from him.
"You broke their hearts, kid," Dr. Maps added. "They love you and you broke their hearts."
"But none of them know my heart," Cody practically whispered.
Dr. Maps had heard him. "You never gave them a chance to," he replied.
Then he told Cody his family was going to come in and see him, and he walked out of the recovery room.
Once again, Cody was left to welcome his thoughts.