Life Support (52 page)

The phone on the desk rang, and the orderly answered it. Alexia didn't wait. She pushed open the door to the ICU unit.

Rena stood on the far side of the bed. She felt detached. The other people in the room moved as if connected to wires. Their voices muted. Their actions in slow motion. Baxter was already in a different realm. The overhead light shone brightly on his motionless form, and for a few fleeting seconds, Rena envied him. He was about to leave the world of pain while she remained to endure the struggle. She picked out a spot on Baxter's forehead and stared at it. Silently, she commanded the apparition that had stalked her to rejoin the figure on the bed. With each passing day, the events at the waterfall had receded deeper into the crevices of her memory, and her future happiness demanded that every connection she had with Baxter sink beyond the ability of anyone to rescue.

Ezra stood next to Baxter's head on the opposite side of the bed. Rena tried to avoid his sad eyes, but in the close quarters of the hospital room it was impossible. However, he held no immediate threat. The decision by the hospital administration to comply with Judge Holcomb's order had taken the fight from her father-in-law, and he'd aged years before her eyes. Every few seconds he stroked Baxter's hair. The gesture made Rena's skin crawl.

Beside Ezra was Dr. Berman and a doctor Rena didn't know. Jeffrey stood at the foot of the bed. He'd given Rena a solemn look when he entered the room, but she caught the hint of an unknown mockery in his eyes. Her brother-in-law was as complex as Baxter was simple. Rena wasn't sure what to say to him and kept her mouth shut. Total cooperation between her mind and her tongue was not guaranteed, and she didn't want to get herself into trouble with her words. There would be time to talk to Jeffrey, but she wasn't sure what needed to be said.

A nurse and a respiratory therapist were scurrying around getting ready. Rena fidgeted. It should be simple. Turn off the ventilator. But apparently the hospital rules and regulations required a meaningless protocol.

“Do you want us to give him any fentanyl?” the nurse asked.

“No, it's not necessary,” Dr. Berman said. “Just keep the lorazepam at the current level.”

The respiratory therapist spoke. “I'm reducing the inspired oxygen to 21 percent.”

“That's fine,” the doctor beside Dr. Berman answered. “Reduce the apnea, heater, and other ventilator alarms to minimum setting.”

Rena shifted her weight from one foot to the other. The door opened, and Alexia Lindale peeked into the room. Ezra glanced over his shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” he blurted out with indignation.

“I asked her to come,” Rena answered. “She's here to help me through this.”

Dr. Berman quickly intervened. “Why don't you stand beside Mrs.Richardson?” he said. “We're almost ready.”

Alexia squeezed past Jeffrey and joined Rena. The other people resumed their focus on the unconscious figure in the bed. The activity in the room reminded Alexia of the preparation for execution by lethal injection. She tried to shake off the image. Baxter's death would be more merciful than the judgment he deserved.

“We're ready to remove the endotracheal tube,” the doctor said.

Ezra blocked Alexia's view of what the doctor was doing, but she kept her eyes glued to the steady rising and falling of Baxter's chest. The faint hissing sound slowly stopped, and the movement of Baxter's chest ceased with it. There was total silence for a few seconds, and Alexia found herself holding her own breath. She'd never been in a room when someone died. It was an eerie feeling. Ezra put his hand on Baxter's shoulder and bowed his head. Alexia could see Rena staring intently at her husband. She then sighed with relief. It was over.

The nurse moved a piece of equipment to the side, and Alexia could see Baxter's face. He was wearing the pale mask of death. When the nurse resumed her position, Alexia glanced again at Baxter's chest. There was still no sign of movement.

“There is independent respiration,” the therapist said matter-of-factly. “It's weak but steady.”

“Check the rate,” the doctor replied.

Ezra raised his head. Alexia's eyes grew bigger as she stared more intently at the motionless form in the bed. The words didn't match what she saw. Baxter was gone. He was as inert as a lump of clay. She glanced sideways at Rena, who took a step backward and collapsed before Alexia could catch her. Her body hit a rollaway table with a loud bang and knocked it over. Dr. Berman and the nurse quickly came around the bed. Alexia got out of the way and left the room.

She returned to the ICU waiting room and sat down. She didn't feel very steady herself, and the room became unnaturally warm. She put her head down toward her knees. A male voice brought her back up.

“Do you need some water?” he asked.

Alexia looked up. It was the handsome young man who had been in the room.

“Uh, yes.”

“I'll get it. In the meantime, breathe deeply and slowly.”

In a few seconds, he returned with a plastic cup. Alexia took a sip and began to feel more normal.

“I'm Jeffrey Richardson,” he said. “You must be Ms. Lindale, the lawyer.”

Alexia nodded. “Thanks for the water. After Rena fainted, I felt a little lightheaded myself. Why did you leave the room?”

“All the medical personnel came rushing in to check Baxter and take care of Rena. I was in the way.”

“That's the way I felt, too,” Alexia said. “I hope Rena didn't hurt herself. That was a nasty fall.”

Jeffrey touched a place on the back of his head. “She has a pretty nasty bruise, but they were taking care of her.”

Alexia stood up. She was dizzy for a second, and Jeffrey reached out and held her arm.

“I'm okay,” she said without pulling away.

“You still look pale. Maybe you should sit back down.”

Alexia plopped back in her chair. “Yeah. But don't stay. You need to go back to your family.”

Jeffrey glanced back toward the ICU area. “Yes. I need to check on Rena, too.”

After Jeffrey left, Alexia finished the cup of water. The door opened and Dr. Berman entered the waiting room. Alexia stood again. The dizziness had passed.

“Dr. Berman!” she called out.

The neurosurgeon came over to her.

“What can you tell me about Baxter?” she asked.

“That he's breathing on his own and otherwise unchanged.”

“Were you surprised?” Alexia asked.

The doctor tilted his head to one side. “Not really. Your suggestion in court was a good one. We would have eventually tried to wean him from the ventilator, and it's good to know he can breathe on his own. It will take time to know whether the additional strain of independent respiration will cause his overall condition to deteriorate. There are other mountains to climb. The greatest danger remains pneumonia.”

“Is he still paralyzed?”

“For now. He may recover movement, or he may be at a permanent plateau. His long-term status may not be known for weeks or months; however, we will transfer him out of ICU in a day or so.”

“Into a regular room?” Alexia asked in surprise.

“Yes. His father wondered if Baxter could be taken home if a suitable environment can be created. I told him that's an option, but it would be very expensive unless an insurance company approves it as a cheaper alternative to continued hospitalization or care in a skilled nursing facility. It would require registered nursing care as well as a full-time attendant.”

“I doubt money is a problem,” Alexia said.

“That's what Mr. Richardson indicated.”

“How is Rena?”

“She's resting in an empty room. The ice pack they gave her should be enough to lessen the swelling of that contusion she suffered. She should be coming out in a few minutes.”

“Does Dr. Draughton know what happened?” Alexia asked.

“Not yet. I'll let him know. He's rarely—” The doctor stopped.

“Wrong?” Alexia finished.

Dr. Berman smiled slightly. “Ms. Lindale, doctors can't admit a mistake in judgment, especially in front of a lawyer.”

42

Awake, harp and lyre!

PSALM 108:2

A
s she lay on the hospital bed, Rena opened her eyes and stared at the wall in the darkened hospital room. She and Baxter were almost roommates. She wanted to close her eyes for ten seconds, open them, and find that her husband was gone. But it was no use. Baxter was alive. She put down the ice pack and felt the goose egg on the back of her head. It was now a very tender, chilled mound of flesh. She slipped from the bed and put on her shoes. A nurse entered the room.

“Are you steady enough to get up?” she asked.

Rena nodded. “I think so. Is anyone with my husband?”

“I don't think so.”

Rena followed the nurse into the open area. The door to Baxter's room was open. Her father-in-law and Jeffrey were not in sight. She entered and closed the door behind her. The ventilator stood at the head of the bed and mocked her. The device had ceased its striving but Baxter had continued on without its assistance. She felt so tired, so exhausted, from the endless tug of war with the person who lay inert in the bed. She leaned over until her lips almost touched his left ear.

“Why don't you quit fighting?” she whispered.

At close range she could see the gentle rising and falling of his chest.

“It would be easier to let go,” she continued. “It's not worth it to stay here. Go and be free.”

The gentle rising and falling continued.

Rena clenched her fists. She wanted to pound them on Baxter's chest and scream at the top of her lungs. When healthy, Baxter was fairly sedentary. But in a paralyzed, comatose condition he demonstrated a resiliency and desire for survival beyond her ability to comprehend. Fuming, she turned and left the room without a strategy or plan of action.

She saw Alexia when she exited the ICU area.

“How are you feeling?” Alexia asked her.

Rena touched the back of her head and felt the huge bruise again. “Terrible. I'm still in shock. When I was lying down, I wanted to imagine that this was all a bad dream.”

“Did Dr. Berman talk with you about Baxter leaving ICU?”

“No. Why would he want to do that?”

“He suggested transferring him to a regular room and then a special type of nursing home, but your father-in-law wants to bring him back to Santee and create a care center there with nurses and attendants.”

“That won't work,” Rena responded quickly. “Our house isn't set up as a hospital.”

“Ezra may have been thinking about his house, not yours.”

“Not there!” Rena's face revealed her alarm. “Uh, I wouldn't be able to check on him.”

“Do you have another option?”

Rena bit her lower lip and thought for a moment. “We have a guest cottage on our property. Baxter and I lived there while they were remodeling our house. The cottage could be set up for him, and the medical people could come and go without entering the main house.”

Alexia nodded. “Would that be something you can talk to your father-in-law about directly or do I need to act as a go-between?”

Rena held up her hand. “You do it. He avoided me until right before we went into Baxter's room. I don't want to talk to him.”

“By the way, what happened after you called me?” Alexia asked. “You told me the doctors were going to ignore Judge Holcomb's order.”

Rena looked away. “I don't know. I tried to find someone you could talk to, but no one was here. I left for a couple of hours, and when I came back, Dr. Berman told me they were going to shut off the ventilator in a few minutes.”

“But I asked you to stay at the hospital and find out what was going on,” Alexia said sharply.

“I tried to find someone but couldn't take the pressure,” Rena answered forlornly. “I had to get some fresh air. Send me a bill for your time.”

Alexia stared at Rena for a second before responding. She'd wasted a long trip for nothing. Her client's selfishness was understandable yet irritating.

“I'm going to ask Ken Pinchot about it tomorrow when I contact him about the arrangements for Baxter. It doesn't make sense that they would simply ignore the judge's order.”

Rena looked past her. Baxter was standing casually by the door to the ICU area, watching them. He was wearing his favorite pair of pajamas and the bathrobe Rena had given him for Christmas.

“Well, I'm going back to Santee,” Alexia said. “What are you going to do?”

Rena shook her head, and Baxter disappeared.

“Find a hole where I can crawl in and die.”

Gwen was dozing on the couch in the living room when Alexia unlocked the door. She sat up and rubbed her eyes as Misha jumped down from the spot where she had been lying next to Gwen's leg and ran toward Alexia. Boris entered the living room wagging his tail.

“How did the children behave?” Alexia asked.

Gwen yawned. “No problem. I gave Boris extra treats so he would like me, and Misha and I speak the same language. How was your trip?”

Alexia plopped down in her chair and gave her a quick version of the events at the hospital.

“What a mess,” Gwen said. “I bet you're exhausted.”

“The last hour in the car was a blur.”

Gwen stretched. “I'd better be going home myself.”

“Why don't you spend the night?” Alexia suggested. “You don't have to sleep on the couch. The bed in the guest room is softer, and I'll fix coffee in the morning exactly the way you like it.”

“Maybe another time.”

“Misha wants you to stay.”

“Perhaps I can invite Misha over to my place for a spend-the-night party.”

Gwen reached over and stroked Misha's silver back. The cat arched her back in affirmation.