Chapter 12: House Calls

November 8, 1993, Chicago, Illinois

A dark fog swirled before my eyes as I tried to take stock. My head hurt, badly. I felt something on my face and realized, dimly, it was an oxygen mask. My right hand was uncomfortable and I recognized the feeling of an IV and pulse-oximeter. My left arm ached fiercely. On my chest I felt the pads and wires of an EKG.

I didn’t feel anything else wrong as I continued taking inventory. I tried to open my eyes, but the fog didn’t clear. I tried to speak, but sensed that my words were slurred and garbled. I heard what I knew to be voices, but they were muffled and couldn’t penetrate the fog. I tried a couple of times, then gave up and let the darkness consume me again.

Some time later the darkness faded, and I found that the fog had diminished. When I tried to open my eyes, I could see ghostly shapes and once again heard muffled voices. I did my best to focus and felt the shroud lifting. I blinked several times, and saw distinct shapes - people, equipment, and furniture. And I heard the one thing every human being responds to - their name.

“Steve?” I heard an indistinct male voice say.

“Steve?” I heard an indistinct female voice say.

I groaned softly from the pounding headache; only a croak came out when I tried to speak. I felt hands remove the oxygen mask and then a straw against my lips. I sucked gently and choked on the water, then tried again and swallowed.

“Steve?” a male voice I now recognized as Al Barton’s said.

“Al?” I responded weakly.

“Just relax.”

“My head hurts,” I whispered, wishing the gnome with the hammer would stop pounding on the inside of my skull.

“You had a syncopal episode and hit your head, twice. You have a concussion, a fractured wrist, and a severe laceration over your right eye that required thirteen stitches.”

“Jess?” I asked.

“In better shape than you are right now,” Al said. “When you fell, you hit your head on the table, then the floor, and landed on your left wrist.”

“Passenger?” I whispered.

“What?” Kara asked.

“Passenger in the car,” I said. “With Jess. Dead.”

“What?” she gasped.

“Steve, relax,” Al said. “Nobody said anything about a passenger.”

“Cop,” I croaked. “Told me.”

Kara gave me some water.

“Doctor Burns, could we find that detective?” Al asked.

“Powell, I think it was,” a voice said.

“Yes,” I said weakly. “Powell.”

I saw movement out the door and a minute later movement back into the room.

“His shift was over,” Doctor Burns said. “The clerk is calling police dispatch to find out.”

“Steve, are you able to tell me what happened?”

“Went to talk to the cop,” I said, struggling to speak. “Said drunk hit Jess. Drunk died. And passenger with Jess.”

“Who?” Al asked.

“Didn’t say,” I whispered. “I had feeling of dread then fainted.”

“Just relax Steve,” Al said, moving the mask back over my mouth and nose. “Kara, do you know who might it have been?”

“For Steve to react like that, he had to think it was Gina or Jorge, probably Jorge.”

“Doctor Swanson?” Al asked, sounding very concerned.

“Yes,” Kara replied.

“Doctor Burns, I need to use the phone,” Al said.

I didn’t hear a response, but since I heard the phone being dialed, I assumed a nod of approval had been given.

“Bala?” I heard Al say. “This is Doctor Barton. I need you to find Doctor Gina Swanson ... Yes; I do in fact know what time it is! Just do it! I’ll wait.”

“Doctor Barton, she might actually be at the Y waiting for Steve. It’s almost time for them to run.”

“He’ll try her home number and page her,” Al replied.

A few minutes passed.

“No, damn it!” Al said. “Page her again. Six nines!”

Five more minutes passed.

“When she calls, have her call the ER at Cook County and ask for me.”

He hung up.

“She didn’t answer at home and didn’t respond to the emergency page,” Al said.

“Doesn’t carry pager when we run,” I mumbled through the mask.

“Non ER-docs have different rules,” Al sighed. “Kara, do you have Jorge’s number?”

“Yes. We called his apartment right after we called you. He didn’t answer, but Steve thought he might be with Trish. I don’t have that number.”

“Call Elyse,” I mumbled. “Tell her Jess is OK. Get number.”

A female voice I didn’t recognize, “Doctor Burns? Doctor Barton? Would you step out here please?”

Kara leaned close, “I’m going to make the calls. Michelle is here.”

Kara moved away and I felt a new presence by my side. I tried to turn my head and that only made it hurt worse.

“Just relax and don’t move,” Michelle whispered.

I heard noise again and Al Barton was at my side again.

“Well, congratulations. You aren’t as hardheaded as I thought you were. You have a linear skull fracture of the left parietal bone. But otherwise, the skull series was negative.”

“How bad?” I mumbled.

“No depression, no displacement. It’s almost identical to Bethany’s, though smaller. We’ll get a CT later this morning, but the x-rays didn’t show any swelling or obvious hematoma.”

“Passenger. Ask Jess.”

“She’s sleeping,” Al said. “Or I would have asked her right away. You should sleep, too.”

Kara came back into the room.

“Trish told Elyse Jorge doesn’t spend the night at her place. She went to knock on the door to Jorge’s apartment but he didn’t answer. She said he has a friend in the suburbs he spends Sunday evenings with sometimes.”

Doctor Burns spoke, “The police won’t release any information about the passenger until they notify the next of kin.”

“Call Tom,” I offered. “Check call logs.”

“Tom?” Al asked.

“Bethany’s boyfriend,” Kara said. “He’s a paramedic. The call logs will say male or female, at least. But I’d have to wake Bethany.”

“She’ll want to know Steve and Jess are hurt, and that they’re OK,” Michelle said.

“OK?” I groaned. “I’m pretty fucking far from OK!”

Kara giggled, “He’s fine!”

“Wake Jess,” I said.

“You are not in a position to make that medical judgment,” Al said. “It won’t change anything.”

“Al!” I protested. “I need to know!”

I started to sit up and Kara’s hand went to my shoulder.

“Doctor Burns, I suggest 10mg diazepam,” Al said. “He’s going to get more agitated.”

“No,” I protested.

“I agree,” Doctor Burns said. “Ortho needs to work on his wrist as well.”

“Snuggle Bear, be quiet, lie still, and let Doctor Barton take care of you,” Kara said firmly. “Doctor Barton, I have health care power of attorney. Go ahead.”

“Kara,” I begged. “No!”

“Shush!”

I wasn’t going to win this fight so I gave up. Five minutes later I drifted off into the fog again. I had no idea how long I was out, and when I woke up, I tried to look at my left wrist and see what time it was, but something kept me from moving my arm. I blinked rapidly, and the rest of the room came into focus.

“Mr. Adams?” a nurse said. “I’m Patsy. I’m checking your vitals. I’ll get Doctor Crenshaw in a moment.”

She finished taking my blood pressure and temperature, then left the room. She was back a moment later with a pretty female doctor who looked to be about my age.

“Mr. Adams?” she asked. “How are you?”

“Bad headache,” I said, muffled by the oxygen mask. “How long was I out?”

She removed the mask.

“Let’s see how you are on room air now that the diazepam has worn off. You were out about ninety minutes.”

“My wife?” I asked.

“Doctor Adams was moved upstairs to Medicine about an hour ago. We’ll send you upstairs now that you’re awake.”

“Kara?” I rasped.

“I’ll have her brought in,” Doctor Crenshaw said. “Doctor Barton is here as well, along with some of your friends. Let me do a quick exam, and I’ll get both of them for you.”

She checked my eyes, listened to my heart and breathing, and then called Al into the room.

“How are you feeling, Steve?” Al asked.

“Like a crazed gnome is pounding on the inside of my skull with a hammer,” I said. “My arm hurts, my head hurts, and I feel like crap.”

“They’ll likely keep you a couple of nights for observation.”

“Everything is still a bit fuzzy,” I said.

“That’s not at all surprising given how hard you hit your head on the table and floor and the after effects of the diazepam.”

“Who?” I asked.

“Just relax, Steve,” Al said. “Let us get you upstairs.”

“Al,” I sighed.

“This may not be my hospital, but you’re under my care.”

“Just fucking tell me, please,” I pleaded. “No more drugs.”

“It was your friend Jorge,” Al said.

“Fuck,” I sighed. “Jess?”

“She knows,” Al said. “The paramedics said she tried to help him, but it wouldn’t have mattered. The other car crossed the center line and hit Jessica’s car head-on just to the passenger side of midline. Her airbag saved her. He suffered massive head and chest trauma. Worse than Bethany’s. It wasn’t survivable.”

“God damn,” I said, tears running down my cheeks. “Kara?”

“I’ll have her come in. She, Elyse, and Bethany were making calls. Most of your friends are here.”

“Dad?” I asked.

“Samantha sent her plane. He’ll be here any minute.”

“Thanks,” I said.

He left the room and I cried softly. Kara and Michelle came into the room. Through my own tears, I could see Kara had been crying.

“Hi, Honey,” I said.

“Hi, Snuggle Bear,” she said softly. “Doctor Barton told you?”

“Yes,” I sighed. “We need to call his mom. The number is in my book.”

“Elyse gave it to the police. They’re taking care of it. Jess told us it was him.”

“How is she?”

“Sedated. She’s distraught.”

“Steve, can we pray?” Michelle asked. “I have the prayer book.”

“Please,” I said.

Michelle and Kara each put a hand on my shoulders, and Michelle read the prayer from the book.

“Amen,” we all said.

“And for your healing,” Michelle said. “And Jessica’s.”

I used my eyes to tell her to go ahead, as nodding would have hurt. Michelle read the prayer.

“Amen,” we all said again.

“What else do you need, Snuggle Bear?”

“A truckload of aspirin,” I said.

“Al told them not to give you anything for the pain unless you requested it. He knows you hate drugs with a white-hot passion. I’m sorry about the sedative before, but Doctor Barton was right.”

“It’s OK, Honey. I just need something to take the edge off, please?” I said. “But no narcotics.”

Michelle left my side and was back a minute later with Doctor Crenshaw.

“You want something for the pain, but your friend said no narcotics? And your chart says no acetaminophen?”

“Yes. I drink, so I never take Tylenol.”

“Ibuprofen OK?”

“Yes,” I said.

She wrote on the chart and left the room. Five minutes later a nurse came in and gave me three tablets which I swallowed with water sucked through a straw. She left, and almost immediately a nurse and doctor came in with Al. He introduced the doctor as the head of Orthopedics, Doctor Snell. Doctor Snell looked at an x-ray while Doctor Barton escorted Kara and Michelle from the room, then came back.

“We re-aligned the bones in your wrist and put on a splint while you were out,” Doctor Snell said. “The second x-ray looks good.”

“How long?” I asked.

“The splint stays on until the swelling goes down,” Doctor Snell said. “I’d say three or four days, but we can wait for your checkup for a cast, so long as you take it easy. As for how long the cast will be on, let’s call it six weeks. We’ll do x-rays every week to check on your progress.”

“What about typing?” I asked.

“If it’s not too painful, and everything is fine, probably in two to three weeks,” Doctor Snell said. “You’re a CEO?”

“Yes, but I type a lot.”

“When I say you’re ready, it’ll only be for short stints. You’ll most likely need physical therapy when the cast comes off to get a full range of motion. Do you play sports or an instrument?”

“Karate,” I said.

“Not for the next six months,” Doctor Snell said.

“Six months?!

“Yes. You can’t hit anything for six months, not even a soft bag. Neuro may tell you longer due to the concussion.”

“Wonderful,” I sighed. “Thanks, Doc.”

He nodded and left the room with his nurse. A minute later, Doctor Crenshaw came back into the room.

“You’re ready to go up to Medicine,” she said.

“Same room as Jess,” I said.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Al said. “She’s sedated.”

“Al,” I protested.

“Remember who is in charge of medical issues?” Al asked.

“Fine,” I sighed.

Two minutes later, a nurse brought my dad into the room.

“Hi, Son. I’m glad you’re awake. How are you doing?”

“OK, I guess. Jess was in an accident.”

“Samantha gave me the basics and I talked to a Doctor Woodford just now. Your sister is waiting to see you.”

I nodded, “So far, they’ve only let Kara and Michelle in to see me. And now you.”

“She’ll have to wait until he’s upstairs,” Doctor Crenshaw said. “We’re already violating the rules as it is.”

“Thanks, Doctor,” my dad said.

“Dad, Jorge died in the accident,” I said.

“I know, Son. Worry about yourself right now. And your wife. The police called Jorge’s parents.”

“Ray, he needs to rest,” Al said.

My dad nodded and left the room with Kara and Michelle following him out.

“What time is it?” I asked.

“11:45am,” Al said. “Now just relax and we’ll have them move you upstairs.”

Twenty minutes later the ER gurney was pushed into a room on the Medicine floor. Orderlies and nurses helped me move to the bed, and a few minutes later, Kara and Michelle came in and sat on the couch. A middle-aged Asian-looking man came into the room.

“Mr. Adams, I’m Doctor Kim, Head of Internal Medicine. You’re here for about forty-eight hours for observation. Let me review your chart, do a quick exam, and see what we have.”

He flipped through the chart he had in his hands, then did his exam.

“Everything looks good, but I’m going to suggest something stronger than ibuprofen for the pain.”

“No,” I said. “No narcotics.”

“OK, ibuprofen it is. I do want to give you a mild sedative. It’ll help you sleep. Otherwise, I’m concerned that pain will keep you awake. A couple of milligrams of diazepam will help you sleep. And that’s what I’d like you to do now.”

“Please, Steve?” Kara pleaded.

I sighed and closed my eyes. The ibuprofen had taken the edge off the pain, but I suspected he was right that I wasn’t going to be able to sleep.

“OK,” I said.