How It Happened Chapter 2
I had gone home for only a couple hours that night. I wanted to be sure to see Elliot and tuck him in. I needed him to know how much I love him. I stayed with him in his room a little extra long and apparently held him longer too. I just didn't want to let him go. Thinking about all the hell my little patient had endured, I wanted my Elliot to know how loved he was. Really, I guess the extra-long snuggling was for me more than him. That became especially clear when he looked up at me with is blond curls and innocently asked "Hey Mom? Can I go to sleep now?"
Thinking about that on my way back to the hospital made me relax and smile, which was a welcome feeling after so much anxiety over my patient. Since my pager hadn't gone off, I hoped that meant he hadn't awakened while I was gone. I had brought some books and toys from home for him. I just felt like he needed something so he could pass the time like any other little boy. I knew I could keep him in the hospital a couple more days under observation, maybe a week, but it wasn't going to take too long before the I.V. did its job for the nutrition and hydration, and the burns began to heal, which would mean he'd need to be released. What would happen after that? I just feared what additional trauma he'd go through once he left the hospital.
I knew Carrick had asked to be given his case, but that really was a long shot. He promised me he'd try to find out who did get it and do his best to keep tabs on things. No matter who got it, it was going to take a few months before my little boy would be adoptable. Carry and I hadn't spoken any more about that tonight, but I could see that meeting that darling boy had an effect on him too. I'm already thinking about him as mine, ours.
I didn't actually go on duty for several more hours so I sat in his room. I wanted to be the first person he saw when he woke. I could feel he needed some security in that area. I dozed off a couple times, but woke each time to see that head of unruly copper hair splayed out on the pillow… those long dark lashes… and that beautiful face sleeping peacefully. But then I woke with a start when I heard him… A deep throated, fearful, groan and he began to thrash back and forth.
He was still asleep and obviously having a nightmare. I went to his side to see if I could help calm him. Sweat was beading on his forehead, and his whole body was shaking. Taking his hand he cried out and pulled his arm away. "Shhhh. Hey. Hey little man. It's OK, you're OK. I'm here. I'm here." I don't know if he could actually hear me, but he never opened his eyes. I put my hand in his so he could grab my fingers. He held on with so much strength, it was a wonder it was even possible given how frail he was. It was a testament to how frightening his nightmare had to be.
"Shhhhhh. It's OK. It's OK. Shhhhhh. Shhhhhhh." I repeated over and over to help him calm down. I noticed his filthy blanket had fallen on the ground. I was able to reach it and put it in his arms. He grabbed it immediately, hugging it close enough to hide his face in it. It was heartbreaking to witness. Several minutes passed before he was truly relaxed again. He went back to his beautiful, peaceful slumber, having never wakened.
"Oh my darling little boy… And I don't even know your name."
"Hey…Gracie, Baby," Carrick was gently shaking me to consciousness. "You go on duty soon Sweetheart." I realized he was whispering and noticed my patient was still asleep behind him.
I wiped the sleep out of my eyes and stretched my neck and back. The chair was not what I'd consider comfortable for sleeping any significant length of time. "Good morning. What are you doing here Carry? Don't you have to get into the office?"
"I do, but I pushed my appointments back a couple hours. I told him I'd come by in the morning, so here I am." He smiled as he gestured toward the little boy still asleep in the bed. "How much longer do you think he'll sleep?"
"I'm not sure. He didn't have a completely restful night. He had a nightmare. A pretty significant one too, it seems. I'm not sure if it's related to being taken from his mother or the physical abuse. I need to get a child psychologist to spend some time with him. Although, I'm not sure what can really be deduced from a child that won't talk."
Just then an orderly came in with a breakfast tray. I was about to send it away for later when we heard movement from the bed. Those grey eyes were wide with wonder and we could hear him sniffing the air. He sat himself up and looked in the direction of the orderly. He gave the most heartbreaking, pleading look… as if to beg for some of the food he was smelling. "I'll take that, thank you," I told the orderly as I took the tray and placed it on the table. I wheeled it over to the bed for him. I don't even think he even noticed Carry and I were there at first. He was in such a hurry to get to the food. I was watching a child in survival mode and it was so painful to witness. "Hey there little man, calm down. You can have everything that's here, just hang on a minute so it doesn't…" He grabbed for the food before I could secure the tray and it flipped up spilling pancakes and scrambled eggs all over the bed. While I would have wanted to clean up the mess I didn't get the chance. He was grabbing for whatever he could reach and desperately putting it into his mouth.
"Oh my god," I heard Carry say under his breath, as he reached to help pick up a pancake. I tried to get my little boy to calm down.
"Darling…. Darling…. no… here, let me put it…Sweetheart…" I managed to get a small handful of scrambled eggs onto the plate. Carry added his rescued pancake, but we looked at each other with broken hearts. When we looked down at this hungry little boy, we were struck breathless. He had both cheeks full of food and was trying to swallow quickly as if he was afraid it would disappear if he wasn't fast enough. "Darling… you can have everything here, just calm down. We don't want you to choke, OK? Swallow… slowly… "
"Here, have a sip." Carry said gently. He had opened the milk carton, put the straw in and was holding it out to him. This scared, hungry little boy just looked up at him with fear, and grabbed for his blanket. Carry looked at me, "I don't think he likes me much."
"Carry! Hand me that." I took the milk from him and looked into this little boys eyes. "This will help. But you need to slow down when you eat." I looked at my husband, "How about you get a book and read to him while he finishes. I need to get some a clean blankets."
"Can't you just call a nurse for that…" I heard Carry ask warily as I left the room. I had to get some information. I walked to the nurse's station to see who had been on duty when my patient was fed last. I wanted to know what happened then. Was it like today? Why didn't anyone tell me.
"Dr. Trvelyan! I wasn't expecting you for a little while yet. We got a call from the police," I heard our head nurse say.
"What? When? What did they say? Was it about the boy they brought it yesterday?" I know I sounded desperate and almost panicked, but the scene I just witnessed had me shaken up.
"Yes Doctor. It was actually. It was right here…" She looked on the desk for something. I wanted to scream at her to find it, I was getting so emotional. "Oh here it is! OK… his name is Christian, he's four years old, and his mother was a known crack addict and prostitute. Probably to feed to the addiction," she said with disgust as she rolled her eyes.
"Christian," I repeated out loud. It fits him. "He's four?" Oh my. He certainly doesn't look like it, but being malnourished will do that to you. "By the way, who was on duty yesterday when he got dinner? He made a mess in there grabbing for anything he could put in his mouth, so I need a clean blanket. And I need to get a child psychologist up here too. Soon. We were so busy with the burns and basics yesterday, and he's got some emotional scars that seem to run pretty deep."
"Has he spoken yet?" she asked.
"No. No, just groans and screams. It's heartbreaking actually. And last night he had an awful nightmare." She looked at me questioningly. "I stayed here with him." She looked worried, but didn't say anything. "Maybe when he feels less frightened?" I shrugged as I turned to go. "Can you have someone bring that blanket please?" She nodded and I headed back to the room.
When I looked through the window I almost cried. There he was sitting with that blanket, using a fork to eat a pancake, the eggs were cleaned up and on the plate, and my wonderful husband was sitting on the chair reading Green Eggs and Ham. I opened the door quietly, trying not to disturb the scene, but they saw me. Christian looked up at me with an almost peaceful look, happy to see me return. I looked at Carrick and had to ask, "A fork?"
He smiled up at me. "Well. Even in the hospital I expect appropriate table manners from my son." I just looked into Carrick's eyes for a moment, and then I did cry.