think you owe this Russian woman a great debt.”
“It sounds like I do.”
“If you owe anyone, Steve, it’s Dr. Dobbelfeld,” his father says. “Before the surgery, he said your chances of living were one in three.”
“Well,” Steve sighs. “I really appreciate the work you did to save me, Doctor. It’s nice to wake up and see all these smiling faces.”
His mother grabs Janine’s hand and guides her toward the bed.
“Janine missed you as much as anyone. She got on a plane straight after we found out about you and was here before your father and me.”
“I don’t want him to strain himself,” Janine says. “He looks tired.” Still, she approaches and carefully leans against the bed next to him. “I was so scared, Baby. I thought I was going to lose you.”
Steve looks into her eyes, searching for emotion, looking for betrayal or guilt or whatever hides behind her words.
“I’m still here,” he says. “I’ve made it this far at least.”
Dr. Dobbelfeld moves closer and politely guides Janine away from the bed.
“Steve has made an important step today, but I do not think we should stress him now. It is time for Steve to rest. The family can rejoin him in a few hours.”
After a minute or two of reluctant good-byes, the doctor manages to herd his mother and father and Janine out of the room. Steve reaches for his head and finds, instead of hair, a large, soft bandage.
“What amazes me,” Dr. Dobbelfeld says, “is that the only major injury you sustained was the skull fracture and resulting brain trauma. No broken bones, no major internal damage, just a few lacerations from the broken glass. Frankly, this is somewhat difficult to believe.”
“But the head injury was bad enough to put me in a coma.”
“Yes, but you came out of it quickly. You were only unconscious for four days.”
“What? What day is this?”
“The twenty-fourth of August.”
“Holy shit,” Steve says. His VP interview is in three days. “How soon can I leave here?”
“You do not understand. Four days of coma is a life-threatening matter. You absolutely must remain here for a few more weeks. We will evaluate you for possible brain damage. There will be some physical therapy. If everything seems normal, I will consider releasing you. But even that would be a miracle, to leave so soon.”
“A few weeks? I can’t stay that long.”
“Mr. Keeley, you were virtually dead when you arrived at this hospital. Without immediate brain surgery, you would not have survived another day. Many coma patients do not return home for months. I think you do not comprehend the seriousness of your injuries.”
“I’m awake now, aren’t I?”
“At the moment, yes, but you could easily slip back into the coma, and maybe next time you will not come out. Sometimes coma patients must learn how to walk again, or relearn any number of routine activities. The brain is a complex and fragile organ.”
“Dr. Dobbelfeld—”
“Mr. Keeley,” the doctor says sternly. “Please understand me. I insist this only to help you. If I released you from this hospital, there is a significant chance that you would die. How can I be any more clear than that?”
“But why? You said I could slip back into a coma and not wake up. What difference will it make if I fall into the coma here or in the U.S.?”
“I performed the surgery. I am familiar with your injuries. I assure you this is normal procedure.”
Steve considers pushing harder, but decides to relent for now. Perhaps the doctor will be more willing to negotiate if he makes swift progress in the next twenty-four hours.
“In a moment a nurse will administer more painkillers and antibiotics,” Dr. Dobbelfeld tells him. “Afterward you will go to sleep again for a while. You will be able to see your parents and your girlfriend again after that.”
5
A young nurse arrives to record his vitals and hook up a new IV. She is dark-skinned and appears to be of East Indian
“It sounds like I do.”
“If you owe anyone, Steve, it’s Dr. Dobbelfeld,” his father says. “Before the surgery, he said your chances of living were one in three.”
“Well,” Steve sighs. “I really appreciate the work you did to save me, Doctor. It’s nice to wake up and see all these smiling faces.”
His mother grabs Janine’s hand and guides her toward the bed.
“Janine missed you as much as anyone. She got on a plane straight after we found out about you and was here before your father and me.”
“I don’t want him to strain himself,” Janine says. “He looks tired.” Still, she approaches and carefully leans against the bed next to him. “I was so scared, Baby. I thought I was going to lose you.”
Steve looks into her eyes, searching for emotion, looking for betrayal or guilt or whatever hides behind her words.
“I’m still here,” he says. “I’ve made it this far at least.”
Dr. Dobbelfeld moves closer and politely guides Janine away from the bed.
“Steve has made an important step today, but I do not think we should stress him now. It is time for Steve to rest. The family can rejoin him in a few hours.”
After a minute or two of reluctant good-byes, the doctor manages to herd his mother and father and Janine out of the room. Steve reaches for his head and finds, instead of hair, a large, soft bandage.
“What amazes me,” Dr. Dobbelfeld says, “is that the only major injury you sustained was the skull fracture and resulting brain trauma. No broken bones, no major internal damage, just a few lacerations from the broken glass. Frankly, this is somewhat difficult to believe.”
“But the head injury was bad enough to put me in a coma.”
“Yes, but you came out of it quickly. You were only unconscious for four days.”
“What? What day is this?”
“The twenty-fourth of August.”
“Holy shit,” Steve says. His VP interview is in three days. “How soon can I leave here?”
“You do not understand. Four days of coma is a life-threatening matter. You absolutely must remain here for a few more weeks. We will evaluate you for possible brain damage. There will be some physical therapy. If everything seems normal, I will consider releasing you. But even that would be a miracle, to leave so soon.”
“A few weeks? I can’t stay that long.”
“Mr. Keeley, you were virtually dead when you arrived at this hospital. Without immediate brain surgery, you would not have survived another day. Many coma patients do not return home for months. I think you do not comprehend the seriousness of your injuries.”
“I’m awake now, aren’t I?”
“At the moment, yes, but you could easily slip back into the coma, and maybe next time you will not come out. Sometimes coma patients must learn how to walk again, or relearn any number of routine activities. The brain is a complex and fragile organ.”
“Dr. Dobbelfeld—”
“Mr. Keeley,” the doctor says sternly. “Please understand me. I insist this only to help you. If I released you from this hospital, there is a significant chance that you would die. How can I be any more clear than that?”
“But why? You said I could slip back into a coma and not wake up. What difference will it make if I fall into the coma here or in the U.S.?”
“I performed the surgery. I am familiar with your injuries. I assure you this is normal procedure.”
Steve considers pushing harder, but decides to relent for now. Perhaps the doctor will be more willing to negotiate if he makes swift progress in the next twenty-four hours.
“In a moment a nurse will administer more painkillers and antibiotics,” Dr. Dobbelfeld tells him. “Afterward you will go to sleep again for a while. You will be able to see your parents and your girlfriend again after that.”
5
A young nurse arrives to record his vitals and hook up a new IV. She is dark-skinned and appears to be of East Indian
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