his nurse for weeks. Ever since he was admitted. He's such a terrific kid, you know? Really nice. A little goofy. But lately, all he does is sleep. Or stare at his trophies." She nodded at the bedside stand, where a display of various awards and ribbons had been lovingly arranged. One ribbon went all the way back to the third grade - an honourable mention for a Cub Scout Pinewood Derby. Abby knew about pinewood derbies. Like Joshua O"Day, her brother had been a Cub Scout.
Abby moved to the bedside. The boy looked much younger than she had expected. Seventeen, according to the birthdate on Hannah Love's clipboard. He could have passed for fourteen. A thicket of plastic tubes surrounded his bed, IV's and arterial and Swan-Ganz lines. The last was used to monitor pressures in the right atrium and pulmonary artery. On the screen overhead, Abby could read the right atrial pressure. It was high. The boy's heart was too weak to pump effectively, and blood had backed up in his venous system. Even without the monitor, she could have reached that conclusion by a glance at his neck veins. They were bulging.
"You're looking at Redding High School's baseball star from two years ago," said Vivian. "I'm not into the game so I don't really know how to judge his batting average. But his dad seems pretty proud of it."
"Oh, his dad/s proud," said Hannah. "He was in here the other day with a ball and mitt. I had to kick him out when they started a game of catch." Hannah laughed. "The dad's as crazy as the kid!"
"How long has he been sick?" asked Abby.
"He hasn't been to school in a year," said Vivian. "The virus hit him about two years ago. CoxsackieVirus B. Within six months, he was in congestive heart failure. He's been in the ICU for a month now, just waiting for a heart." Vivian paused. And smiled. "Right, Josh?"
The boy's eyes were open. He seemed to be looking at them as though through layers of gauze. He blinked a few times, then smiled at Vivian. "Hey, Dr. Chao."
"I see some new ribbons on display," said Vivian.
"Oh. Those." Josh rolled his eyes. "I don't know where my Mom digs those up. She keeps everything, you know. She even has this plastic bag with all my baby teeth. I think it's pretty gross."
"Josh, I brought someone along to meet you. This is Dr. DiMatteo, one of our surgical residents."
"Hello, Josh," said Abby.
It seemed to take the boy a moment to fully refocus his gaze. He didn't say anything.
"Is it OK for Dr. DiMatteo to examine you?" asked Vivian. "Why?"
"When you get your new heart, you'll be like that crazy Road Runner on TV. We won't be able to tie you down long enough for an exam."
Josh smiled. "You're so full of it."
Abby moved to the bedside. Already, Josh had pulled up his gown and bared his chest. It was white and haitiess, not a teenager's chest but a boy's. She lay her hand over his heart and felt it fluttering like bird's wings against the cage of ribs. She lay her stethoscope against it and listened to the heartbeat, the whole time aware of the boy's gaze, wary and untrusting. She had seen such looks from children who have been too long in paediatric wards, children who've learned that every new pair of hands brings a new variety of pain. When she finally straightened and slipped her stethoscope back in her pocket, she saw the look of relief in the boy's face. "Is that all?" he said.
"That's all." Abby smoothed down his hospital gown. "So. Who's your favourite team, Josh?"
"Who else?"
"Ah. Red Sox."
"My dad taped all their games for me. We used to go to the park together, my dad and me. When I get home, I'm going to watch 'era all. All those tapes. Three straight days of baseball..." He took a deep breath of oxygen-infused air and looked up at the ceiling.
Softly he said, "I want to go home, Dr. Chao."
"I know," said Vivian.
"I want to see my room again. I miss my room." He swallowed, but he couldn't hold back the sob. "I want to see my room. That's all. I just want to see my room."
At
Abby moved to the bedside. The boy looked much younger than she had expected. Seventeen, according to the birthdate on Hannah Love's clipboard. He could have passed for fourteen. A thicket of plastic tubes surrounded his bed, IV's and arterial and Swan-Ganz lines. The last was used to monitor pressures in the right atrium and pulmonary artery. On the screen overhead, Abby could read the right atrial pressure. It was high. The boy's heart was too weak to pump effectively, and blood had backed up in his venous system. Even without the monitor, she could have reached that conclusion by a glance at his neck veins. They were bulging.
"You're looking at Redding High School's baseball star from two years ago," said Vivian. "I'm not into the game so I don't really know how to judge his batting average. But his dad seems pretty proud of it."
"Oh, his dad/s proud," said Hannah. "He was in here the other day with a ball and mitt. I had to kick him out when they started a game of catch." Hannah laughed. "The dad's as crazy as the kid!"
"How long has he been sick?" asked Abby.
"He hasn't been to school in a year," said Vivian. "The virus hit him about two years ago. CoxsackieVirus B. Within six months, he was in congestive heart failure. He's been in the ICU for a month now, just waiting for a heart." Vivian paused. And smiled. "Right, Josh?"
The boy's eyes were open. He seemed to be looking at them as though through layers of gauze. He blinked a few times, then smiled at Vivian. "Hey, Dr. Chao."
"I see some new ribbons on display," said Vivian.
"Oh. Those." Josh rolled his eyes. "I don't know where my Mom digs those up. She keeps everything, you know. She even has this plastic bag with all my baby teeth. I think it's pretty gross."
"Josh, I brought someone along to meet you. This is Dr. DiMatteo, one of our surgical residents."
"Hello, Josh," said Abby.
It seemed to take the boy a moment to fully refocus his gaze. He didn't say anything.
"Is it OK for Dr. DiMatteo to examine you?" asked Vivian. "Why?"
"When you get your new heart, you'll be like that crazy Road Runner on TV. We won't be able to tie you down long enough for an exam."
Josh smiled. "You're so full of it."
Abby moved to the bedside. Already, Josh had pulled up his gown and bared his chest. It was white and haitiess, not a teenager's chest but a boy's. She lay her hand over his heart and felt it fluttering like bird's wings against the cage of ribs. She lay her stethoscope against it and listened to the heartbeat, the whole time aware of the boy's gaze, wary and untrusting. She had seen such looks from children who have been too long in paediatric wards, children who've learned that every new pair of hands brings a new variety of pain. When she finally straightened and slipped her stethoscope back in her pocket, she saw the look of relief in the boy's face. "Is that all?" he said.
"That's all." Abby smoothed down his hospital gown. "So. Who's your favourite team, Josh?"
"Who else?"
"Ah. Red Sox."
"My dad taped all their games for me. We used to go to the park together, my dad and me. When I get home, I'm going to watch 'era all. All those tapes. Three straight days of baseball..." He took a deep breath of oxygen-infused air and looked up at the ceiling.
Softly he said, "I want to go home, Dr. Chao."
"I know," said Vivian.
"I want to see my room again. I miss my room." He swallowed, but he couldn't hold back the sob. "I want to see my room. That's all. I just want to see my room."
At
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