LEN BIAS: CROSSOVER
A novel
By: Michael D. McClellan | September 19, 2010
chapter 6
The remainder of June 29th is a flurry of activity - visits by doctors Smithson, Ghajar and Abraham to evaluate the state of my injuries; nurses shuttling in and out to read vitals, draw blood, and start me on a diet of solid food (if Jell-O qualifies as solid food); John dropping by to check on his kid brother and tell stories of a childhood between us that never existed; physical therapists torturing me to the point of tears; orderlies wheeling me off for additional X-Rays and CT scans. By nine o'clock I'm beyond weak, I'm completely wiped out. I need to sleep but can't - my broken leg is screaming at me, a day's worth of pain built up and rolling through me in waves. My head is pounding so hard that it makes me ill, which in turn generates more nurses and a fresh round of medications. I learn that the act of vomiting puts unwanted pressure on my injured brain, which in turn explains the five-alarm response from the medical staff every time I feel as if I'm about to throw up.
John offers to stay the night, so that Emily can sleep in a real bed for the first time since the accident. She rejects the idea at first, but I tell her not to worry because I'll be here when she gets back. Ha ha. She kisses me, promises to be back early. She gives John a big hug and thanks him, and then sets off for his house.
~ ~ ~
The pain medication finally kicks in and I fall asleep. I dream that I'm floating. Except that I'm not floating in the air like a balloon that some child has just released into the atmosphere; no, in this dream I'm actually floating on something, and for some reason it feels as if I've done this before. I'm standing in a field of tall grass, and I can see an ancient farmhouse off in the distance. I walk the narrow dirt path leading to the entranceway. The door is thick, heavy. I push it open. There's a fireplace in one corner. A young woman sits in a chair facing the fire, her back to me. She's wearing a yellow summer dress. Her red hair spills over her shoulders.
I know her...
Are you ready, Leonard?
My eyes snap open. I pass from deep sleep to total alertness in a fraction of a second, and then lay still, listening. The clock on the wall reads 2:31AM. John is asleep in the makeshift recliner beside the window, snoring loud enough to be heard down the hallway. I try to go back to sleep but can't. I spend the next three hours trying to figure out who the young woman is and what she wants with me. By the time Emily returns I'm more exhausted than ever.
~ ~ ~
The woman from my dream enters the room late in the morning of June 30th. I recognize her instantly, even though in the dream I hadn't seen her face. The porcelain skin, the red hair, the green eyes... she has the looks of a model, or maybe a ballerina or possibly a figure skater. She's wearing a navy skirt and a matching navy jacket with a red silk top underneath. There's a string of pearls around her neck. Her hair is pulled back, showing off pearl earrings that accent the necklace perfectly.
"Good morning," she says, smiling. She's holding a leather folio and a manila folder in the bend of her arm. "I'm Dr. Reynolds, but I would prefer it if you called me Alice. I'm a neuropsychologist specializing in cognitive rehabilitation. You must be Jason Schuler."
I don't respond, I just stare at her in silence. I glance at the plastic ID card clipped to her jacket. My eyes return to her face. I know her. I've spent time with her. But where? When? Why?
"And you must be Emily," she says, smiling.
"Yes," Emily replies. They shake hands. "Dr. Smithson said that you would be working with us. It's a pleasure to meet you."
"Can I sit down?"
"Please."
She turns her attention back to me. "So, how are you feeling today?"
"Let's just say I've been better."
"That is certainly understandable. You've been through a lot."
"Trust me, you don't know the half of it."
She pulls a chair over to the bed. "Jason, I'm very familiar with your case. I've been briefed by both Dr. Smithson and Dr. Ghajar, and I've gone over your test results in great detail. I know that you've moved rapidly from coma to consciousness, and that you're now a 16 on the Glasgow Coma Scale. That is fantastic progress, given the extent of your injuries, and a very encouraging indicator of a full recovery. Do you know how that scale works?"
"No."
"The Glasgow has three components - best eye response, best verbal response, and best motor response. When evaluating a coma patient, each component is given a value based on the patient's response to stimuli. The three values are then added together to arrive at a total score. The lower the score, the more severe the brain injury. For example, I have a patient who doesn't open her eyes, makes no sounds, and makes no movements. There is no response to pain whatsoever. That patient is currently at a 3 on the Glasgow, and is considered to be in a vegetative state."
"Okay. Why are you telling me this?"
"You were a 4 on the Glasgow when you arrived here on June 15th. Again, you are a 16 today. Quite frankly, that's an astonishing recovery in such a short span of time. Very few patients cover that amount of ground so quickly."
"See?" Emily says, smiling. "You're doing great."
