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Chapter 3: The Waiting Game

"Above the closed and fringéd lid
'Neath which thy slumbering soul lies hid,
...o'er the floor and down the wall,
Like ghosts the shadows rise and fall"
-The Sleeper, Edgar A. Poe

The Dukes made their way past the crowded triage area and up to the second floor and the ICU. This waiting room was smaller and homier - almost cozy, with couches in an alcove just outside a set of automatic double doors. A coffeemaker sat on a table in one corner of the room, filling the air with the stale smell of day old, burnt Folgers. It reminded Luke of a funeral parlor, and the feel of death settled on him like flakes of invisible, downy snow.

He took a styrofoam cup from the table and filled it halfway with coffee, taking a deep breath before turning back to his uncle. "Here Uncle Jesse," he said, pressing the cup into the man's hands, "I reckon it might be a long wait before they tell us anything."

Uncle Jesse nodded and took the cup, absently murmuring his thanks. Luke caught Bo's eyes from across their uncle, the fear and uncertainty he saw there mirroring his own.

Dropping into a seat by the window, Luke watched the cars pull in and out of the parking lot below him, remembering how happy Uncle Jesse had been when they found him at the fair. Seeing his uncle's bright, cheery smile with the foreknowledge of what he had to tell him, had very nearly made him break down before he could get a single word out. The ride to to Capital City and then to Atlanta, behind Rosco's escort, had been quiet.

He picked up a magazine and thumbed through it, then tossed it back down without having read a word. The waiting was hard, but the not knowing was infinitely worse.

When Luke startled awake, the autumn sky had grown dark and the traffic was a line of red taillights in the night. He looked at the clock to find it was almost 7:30 pm, three hours since they had arrived, and still no word of Daisy's condition.

This is bad, he thought to himself, wearily, this is really, really bad.

Jesse Duke rubbed his fingers absently against the styrofoam cup, the coffee having gone cold an hour before, or perhaps two. He wasn't sure. Time was doing a funny, slow dance around him; his mind wandering over the thoughts that tumbled through it.

He was old enough to know there was no since in worrying. As a young husband, he'd worried over Lavinia, and it hadn't helped anything at all. The cancer which ravaged her body hadn't cared that he was scared to death of being alone, or that he had no idea how to take care of three little kids. The worry had brought its own sickness of the heart and mind. Then she was gone, and the clock of his life ticked slowly forward.

But Daisy...

He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. If they started leaking now, he was afraid they would never stop, not until he had her with him safe and sound again.

"Duke family?"

He looked up at the small reception desk where the nurse had called to them, and wondered if she was real or if he was dreaming.

"Uncle Jesse?" prompted Luke. "They just called us."

Not a dream, then. He wrenched his old body out of the seat and pulled his mind back into focus. "Let's go, then." He put his hand on Bo's shoulder, silently reminding the boy to watch his temper as much as to give himself strength.

They followed the nurse back into a sad, little room on the other side of the double doors with a nameplate which read 'Family Meditation". Try as he might, Jesse couldn't shake the memories of rooms like this. Rooms where the first words out of the doctor's mouth were always, "I'm sorry..."

"The doctor will be with you in just a minute," said the nurse. "Is there anything I can get you to drink while you wait? A coke or some orange juice? It gets awfully dry in here."

"If you've got a Coke, I'd be much obliged," said Luke.

"Me too," said Bo. "If it ain't too much trouble?"

"Absolutely," she said cheerily, the warmth in her voice putting them somewhat at ease. "We keep a supply of drinks back here so families don't have to go down to the cafeteria. We've got applesauce, too, and some granola bars, just in case you aren't able to get anything for a while. I'll be right back."

In no more time than it took Jesse to slip his pocket watch out and take a quick peek at the time, she was back. "I brought an extra one, Mr. Duke," she said, handing him a can, "just in case you wanted one later. I can take that cup, if you're finished with it."

"Thank you, ma'am," he said, softly, feeling a catch in his voice. "That's mighty kind of you."

She left again and closed the door behind her, leaving them alone. Like a leaden blanket, the silence pressed down upon them, each sensing that it was the last calm of ignorance before the storm of knowing. As the seconds ticked by, Jesse cast a glance at the boys. He didn't feel like talking either, but keeping this family together and their spirits pointed in the right direction had been his solemn duty for over two decades, and he couldn't let it slide now.

"Boys..." His voice sounded weak and old. He cleared it and tried again. "Now boys, we'll get through this," he told them, patting their hands and dredging up the last of his energy. "Whatever it is, there ain't been nothin' that Dukes couldn't overcome by sticking together."

Bo picked his head up and nodded gravely, his blue eyes meeting his uncle's. Jesse thought he looked very young and lost, not so different from the child who had come to live with them when he was two, ripped from his mother's arms in the middle of a Georgia twister. The hand of God had been on him him that day, landing him safely in the bushes while his parents lay buried beneath the rubble.

Luke started to say something, but at that moment the door opened, and whatever it might have been stayed unspoken as the doctor walked in.

His olive complexion stood in stark contrast to his white lab coat, with deep set eyes under a heavy brow, and the first dusting of white at his temples in his otherwise jet, black hair. Jesse thought he was probably mid-forties or pushing fifty.

"Hi, Mr. Duke, I'm Dr. Haglen," he said, shaking his hand. "I'm one of the neurosurgeons here at Grady Memorial." He turned and shook Luke and Bo's hands, as well, asking them each their names in turn, then pulled up a wooden chair from beside the wall and sat down in front of them. "It's nice to meet y'all," he began. "I wanted to come and give you an update on Daisy. I'm sorry you've had to wait so long."

"Is she awake?" Luke asked.

"She hasn't woken up, yet," he said, "but other than her broken arm, she doesn't have any visible signs of trauma. The MRI was able to rule out any internal bleeding or life-threatening injuries."

Bo and Luke breathed a collected sigh of relief, but Jesse, long used to 'doctor speak' needed more information.

"We didn't see what happened first hand," Bo explained. "So, we weren't sure how bad it was."

Dr. Haglen nodded. "Any time there's an accident, an MRI is always the first test that we run. Daisy did have to have surgery on her arm, so don't be alarmed when you see the pins and metal contraption supporting it. We'll watch it closely over the next couple days to make sure it's healing correctly, but everything went well." He opened the folder he had brought with him. "I do need to talk with you about the results of the EEG and the second MRI."

"An EEG." Jesse recognized the name, but couldn't remember what it was for. "Is that like one of those brain wave tests?"

"That's exactly what it looks like," he said. "Just like if you hook a battery up to a ammeter, an EEG measures electrical currents inside the brain. Sometimes, these currents get confused and interrupt the normal signals. This can happen for a variety of reasons, and in Daisy's case, her EEG showed a small area inside her brain with increased electrical activity." He paused for a second. "This leads us to believe that shortly after the accident, Daisy had at least one seizure."

He was quiet for a moment, letting the news sink into the three of them. Jesse was stunned, a seizure hadn't crossed his mind, and he wasn't sure if it was better or worse than any of the other possibilities he had considered. The only person he knew who'd had one was Mabel Foust's daughter who had epilepsy. "Are you sure?" he asked.

The doctor nodded, gravely. "Most of the time when a seizure occurs in someone who has no history of them, it causes little to no lasting damage. However, Daisy's second MRI showed a tiny lesion about two millimeters long in her temporal lobe." He took a drawing from the folder showing the different areas inside of the brain and pointed to a curled area in the center. "The temporal lobe contains some very important structures where the brain stores and makes memories."

Luke looked up at the doctor. "Did she hit her head during the accident?"

"Rosco didn't say nothing about her hitting her head," added Bo. "He said she was talking to him and everything!"

The doctor shook his head. "I didn't find any evidence of her having hit her head," he assured them, "although there is some minor swelling at right side of her brain. More than likely, the seizure was caused by the centripetal force of her Jeep rolling down the hill." He closed the folder and leaned forward. the seriousness of what he was about to say evident to each of them. "Confusion and some memory loss after an accident is completely normal, and it may take her a few days to get her bearings before we can begin to gauge what, if any, deficiencies have occurred. I'll talk to her when she wakes up, and let her know what's happening."

"So, if she's injured her brain where memories are stored, does that mean she won't remember anything?" asked Luke.

"That's a good question, Luke. Real amnesia isn't like it is in the movies or on television," he explained. "There are three basic types of memory loss and you can have varying severities or a combination of them."

He took a blank sheet of paper and the pen from the breast pocket of his lab coat and drew an "X" in the middle. On the left side, he made an arrow pointing backwards, away from the X, then turned the paper around so that it was facing up for the three of them.

{- - - - - - - X

"The first type, which is the kind that you hear about in books and movies, is called retrograde amnesia. This affects the person's ability to recall details of past events. However, patients don't usually lose everything from their past. The loss is usually limited to a few weeks or months, but it can also be years, depending on the location of the damage." He drew a line downwards, cutting through the arrow, and shaded between the X and the line.

{- - - -/ / /X

"Also, the more recent the memory, the more likely it is to be lost. Older memories are stronger and contain sounds, smells, and emotions, which over time are duplicated in other places in the brain, so older memories usually remain unaffected."

To the right side of the X, he traced another arrow, pointing forward.

X- - - - - -}

"The second kind of memory loss is anterograde amnesia, which is the inability to make new memories. This can vary a lot depending on the severity of the injury. Some people may not be able to hold onto any new information more than a few minutes, while some people simply have trouble retaining facts if given in large chunks. The third kind, which is uncommon, is autobiographical amnesia." He circled the X itself.

(X)

"This is where the person completely forgets who they are, but this involves some pretty extensive brain injuries, and we wouldn't expect that with Daisy."

He stopped talking, while each of them dealt with the blitz of information and bad news in their own ways. Outside the door, there was a page over the intercom and down the hall, an alarm began to blare stridently.

"I know it must be really hard to hear this all at once," he apologized, "but we're going to be with you every step of the way, and we can talk more about it later after you've had a chance to process everything. Are there any questions that I can answer for you right now?"

Only one question was on Jesse Duke's mind at that moment, "When will we be able to see her?"

"They were just bringing her back up here to ICU when I came in to talk with you," he said. "After we've double checked her vitals, you can come in and stay with her, probably in about an hour. The ICU is limited to two people at a time, but family is welcome 24 hours a day. Often, family members will set up a routine so that someone can get some sleep while another stays in the room."

The thought of being able to see her sooner than later perked up all their spirits.

"So, it sounds like we need to be prepared for more than a couple days here," said Luke. "Uncle Jesse, if you and Bo want to go in first when she's ready, I'll call Rosco and Cooter and let them know about everything."

Dr. Haglen stood and shook hands once more with each of them. "If y'all think of anything else, don't hesitate to ask. You'll probably see a lot of me, and when I'm not here, Dr. England will be the neurologist on staff, and you'll meet him tomorrow."

"Well, thanks a lot for talking with us, Dr. Haglen," said Bo. "We'll probably have some more questions thought up by tomorrow."

"Sounds good, Bo," he said, "just let me know."

With a mission to call Rosco and Cooter, Luke headed for the elevators down the hall from the ICU, and Bo took up his perch in the waiting room until they were able to see Daisy. Jesse mentally ticked off the people who ought to be notified, knowing that between Rosco and Cooter, most everyone in Hazzard would find out quickly enough.

There was, however, one person who wouldn't hear about it through the HazzardNet. Jesse debated whether or not to call him all the way to the reception desk.

The thoughtful nurse from earlier smiled up at him. "Can I help you with anything, Mr. Duke?"

"Is there a place up here that I can make a long distance call?"

"Oh sure!" she said. "There's a phone in the family room you can use. We just ask that you try and keep calls under five minutes, in case someone needs the room."

"I'm much obliged, ma'am."

The automatic doors jerked and opened when he pushed the button on the side of the wall, letting out a blast of chilly air. In the family room, the phone shared a small end table with a lamp and a Gideon Bible. Taped to the front was a laminated card which read, 'For an outside line, press #9 and wait for a dial tone'.

Taking a deep breath, he picked up the receiver, hit "9", and dialed an emergency contact number he'd never thought he'd call.