Chapter 13: Just Like Starting Over

November 10, 1993, Chicago, Illinois

Kara and Elyse were in my hospital room on Wednesday morning. Michelle had missed two days of classes and needed to be in school, so she wasn’t there. Kara had arranged with the head of the Chemistry department and her PhD advisor for a week of emergency leave.

“How are we going to handle this?” I asked. “She’s not ready to come back to us.”

“No, she’s not,” Kara said. “I had a talk with Al and she’s only grudgingly agreed to move into the house because Doctor Woodford insisted on it.”

“She’ll need her own room,” I said. “We could make up the ‘Indian’ room for her, I guess.”

“That probably makes the most sense,” Elyse said.

“Michelle is very concerned,” Kara said quietly.

“She thinks Jessica is coming back to us and she’ll be displaced?” I asked.

“Yes. I told her that wasn’t going to happen, but she needs to hear it from you.”

“You both know what I want to happen, but from the short interaction I had with Jessica yesterday, I don’t think anything has changed. But maybe with her living at home, we’ll have a chance to start over.”

“Which is EXACTLY what has Michelle concerned,” Kara said.

I sighed, “Because we invited Michelle to our bed.”

“Yes. And she likes that.”

I thought about it for a minute, then said, “Nothing has changed. We’ll do our best to help Jessica and just take things one day at a time. I’ll talk to Michelle.”

“You have to be VERY careful with Jessica,” Elyse said. “She has to seriously change before you let her back into your life the way you want to.”

“Elyse...” I protested.

“She’s right, Snuggle Bear.”

There was no point arguing so I agreed that the ‘Indian’ room should be made up for Jessica. Elyse went to call home and ask Abbie to get things ready. She was back about ten minutes later, saying that Terry and Dave were going to the house to move the spare bed frame, mattress, and box springs from storage in the basement to the ‘Indian’ room, and move two of the basket chairs, some floor pillows and the low table into the storage room.

Just before 10:00am, Doctor Kim signed the discharge forms and just before 11:00am, an orderly wheeled me to the elevator, then out to the waiting minivan where Jessica was already sitting. Elyse and the orderly helped me into the van, and then Elyse got in next to me. Al Barton walked out and got into the passenger seat and Kara got in to drive.

“You both OK?” Al asked.

“Sure,” I said.

“Yes,” Jessica said, looking out the window rather than at anyone in the van.

About thirty minutes later, all of us walked into the house in Hyde Park, though Jessica was using crutches. Jesse, Matthew, and Birgit had gone to school over what had been reported as very loud protests, but Michael, Albert, Stephie, and Ashley were waiting in the sunroom, and Abbie greeted us at the back door.

“Both of them are to take it VERY easy for the next week,” Al said to Abbie. “Do your best to keep it quiet around the house, please?”

“It’s under control, Doctor Barton,” Abbie said. “The kids know Mommy and Daddy are sick and that they need to be extra quiet.”

“They’re both stubborn and bullheaded,” Al said. “No lifting, no exertion, no cooking, nothing until I say. They may sit quietly and read or rest. Period. Steve should walk for short periods several times a day.”

“Al, I’m right here,” I said.

“Yes, and like every other patient in the world, the minute the doctor is out of sight you decide what you think you should and shouldn’t do. Abbie, I have codeine tablets for both of them, if they experience pain. Steve won’t take them, but he has a prescription anyway. I also have diazepam tablets for both of them. Those they need to take at bedtime, or if they get agitated. Make them do it.”

“Damn it, Al,” I said. “I can manage this myself.”

“Stubborn and foolish as always,” Jessica said sotto voce.

“Jess, that’s enough!” Al said sharply. “Abbie, I’ll stop in to check on them in the mornings on the way to work and then on the way home. You have my office and home numbers, I’m sure. If you have questions, call. If they have ANY cognitive or breathing or vision problems, call the paramedics FIRST, then call me.”

“Yes, doctor,” Abbie said. “I know how to handle Steve. Jessica will cooperate, won’t you, Jessica?”

“Yes.”

“I’m going to bed,” I growled.

I was tempted to take the stairs just to prove my point to Al, but in the end opted for the elevator because I knew Abbie, Kara, and Elyse would intercept me before I got to the foot of the stairs. Kara came with me and we rode up one floor. She walked me to our bedroom and helped me change into my pajamas and get into bed.

“What can I do for you?” she asked.

“Get the damned doctors out of the house,” I said.

“Including Jess?” Kara asked sweetly, but not in a good way.

“No,” I sighed. “Sorry. I just get annoyed when they get into ‘doctor mode’ and it’s like I’m not even there.”

“Steve...” Kara sighed impatiently.

When she used my name in that way, rather than ‘Snuggle Bear’, I knew I was going to hear it. And I also knew I probably deserved whatever it was she was going to say.

“There are TWO stubborn patients in this house, and the doctors, ALL OF THEM, will be here for as long as it takes and until Doctor Barton says otherwise. Do I need to bring the true authority in this house in here to make sure that happens?”

I sighed. Birgit would NEVER let me get away with my current attitude. That was Kara’s ultimate trump, and she knew it.

“And don’t ‘yes, dear’ me, Steve,” Kara continued. “You WILL, as your Navy friends do, say ‘Aye, aye, Ma’am’, and MEAN it!”

“Yes, dear,” I said with a wan smile.

“I swear, you’re so stubborn and hardheaded that I won’t be surprised if the hospital sends a bill for repairs for the damage your head did to the table and the floor!”

I started to laugh, but stopped almost immediately, wincing at the throbbing pain in my head.

“You know,” I said softly, a tear in my eye, “that’s just what ‘Lucy’ would have said.”

Kara nodded silently, understanding my reference to Jorge, as a tear dripped down her cheek.

“OK to bring the kids up to see you?” she asked a minute later, when she’d composed herself.

“Yes, please,” I said.

She left and was back a few minutes later with Michael, Albert, Stephie, and Ashley. I hugged and kissed each of them and answered their questions, then Kara took them back down to Abbie and came to lie in bed with me, though fully clothed.

“Two weeks before you can have sex,” Kara giggled.

“I’m going to KILL Al Barton!” I groused.

“You’ll live!” she said, kissing me carefully on the cheek.

November 11, 1993, Chicago, Illinois

“Any issues?” I asked Al Barton on Thursday morning.

“No. Everything looks good. I checked Jess before I came upstairs. She’s fine, too.”

“Think she’ll talk to me?” I asked.

“All you can do is try,” he said. “But stay calm and don’t push too hard.”

“OK. I’m guessing I can’t use my hockey tickets tonight.”

“No, you can’t. That’s about the last place you belong. The noise and excitement would be too much for you.”

“I really can’t do karate for six months?”

“Correct. And you can’t run until we’re satisfied the concussion hasn’t had any lasting effects and the skull fracture heals. Kara said she’s going to take you for a walk after breakfast. Be careful. She brought sparring headgear home from the dojo. You should wear it when you’re moving around for the next two weeks.”

“Seriously?”

“Just do it, Steve. If you bump your head, you’re going to appreciate the suggestion.”

“How the hell could I hurt myself this badly just by falling?” I asked. “Jess was in a 25MPH accident and is in better shape.”

“She’s damned lucky,” Al said. “I mean that. I believe the other car was doing at least 50! Change anything about that accident and she might not have been so fortunate.”

“And Jorge?” I sighed.

Al shook his head, “Never had a chance. She says he was breathing but I don’t think that was possible. Not with the injuries the coroner reported.”

“Which were?”

“Basilar skull fracture and tearing of the carotid artery. It wasn’t survivable even if it had happened in the ER with my surgical team scrubbed and ready. His chest injuries were immaterial at that point. That kind of skull fracture is what killed that NASCAR driver a couple of years ago.”

I frowned grimly, “J. D. McDuffie.”

“And a couple of Indy drivers in the past, if memory serves. I think one was Vukovich, but I’m not sure.”

“That sounds right,” I said. “Bill Vukovich died at Indianapolis in the 50s. There was another one, too, Tony Bettenhausen, a few years later. I remember reading about them when Winston Cup Scene ran an article about J. D. McDuffie. How does that happen? The article talked about racing. But this wasn’t a crash in excess of 150MPH!”

“When the seatbelt restrains your body, your head continues forward at full speed, then snaps back. In Jessica’s case, the airbag limited how far her neck flexed. There was no airbag on the passenger side.”

“20 or 25MPH?” I asked.

“As I said, the other car was going at least 50MPH,” Al said. “But the complete police report hasn’t been filed. That’s more than enough. It could happen at much lower speeds. Your head and neck aren’t designed for that kind of trauma.”

I chuckled, despite it hurting my head, “Designed, Al?”

“OK. You know what I meant! By nature!” he laughed. “You have a follow-up with orthopedics at UofC. We figured it made more sense than a weekly trek to Cook County. You’ll need those stitches out next Monday. I’ll make arrangements to have that done and have a plastic surgeon take a look at it.”

“Forget it,” I said. “I don’t mind the scar right above my eyebrow. Besides, there’s one just below it from second grade, I suspect. I don’t know for sure because of the bandages.”

“OK,” he said, shaking his head. “You’ll also need an x-ray of your wrist, and a full skull series plus CT. We’ll do those next Monday as well.”

“Anything ELSE?” I asked.

“Steve...” Kara warned.

“Sorry, Doctor Frankenstein,” I said with a grin, doing my best not to sound annoyed and incur more wrath from Kara, “Anything else?”

“Kara, confiscate his ABBA records and CDs until he behaves.”

“Now that’s low, even for you, Al,” I groaned.

“Kara, you can bring the kids in now,” Al said.

“Thanks, Doctor Barton,” she said.

He left and she followed him out, and came back with all seven kids who crowded around the bed. They were all concerned, and all wanted to crawl into bed with me, but had to settle for quick hugs and kisses before Kara took them out so the three oldest could go to school. She was back five minutes later.

“Your dad will stop by this afternoon after work,” Kara said. “Kathy and Kurt will come by later. I’ve convinced the rest of your friends to wait until the weekend to see you. Shall we eat breakfast and take our walk?”

“Sure,” I said. “I want to talk to Jessica.”

“After we walk,” Kara said.

“Have you talked to her?”

Kara shook her head, “She’s only talking to Abbie and Doctor Barton right now, and her talks with Doctor Barton seem very strained according to Abbie.”

“No surprise,” I said.

Kara and I went downstairs and she fixed breakfast for us. Michelle greeted me with a soft kiss, and Samantha walked in while I was eating. She had come to check on me before going to class, and filled me in on what had happened with Jorge’s parents. She confirmed what Kara had told me about taking him back to Puerto Rico which was going to happen on Friday, but they weren’t doing any kind of service here.

“We have to do something for him,” I said.

“How about a memorial service on Saturday?” Abbie suggested. “Invite all our friends and just do something here.”

“You’ll have to clear it with the medical staff,” I sighed.

“Steve...” Kara warned.

“Honey, the day I stop being annoyed by doctors is the day you put me in the ground, and that includes my good friend Al Barton when he’s doctoring ME.”

“Doctor Barton is a sweetheart!” Abbie said. “He’ll be OK with it.”

“Al Barton?” I asked incredulously. “A sweetheart? I must have missed something.”

“He cares about you,” Abbie said. “Just as the rest of us do. He’s tough on you because you need it. Just as Elyse is. And just as your daughter is.”

I nodded, conceding.

“Yes, let’s do a memorial on Saturday,” I said. “I want to go to Puerto Rico, but I don’t think I’ll get permission. How’s Jessica?”

“She just had her breakfast in the ‘Indian’ room,” Abbie said. “She’s not really interested in talking to anyone.”

There really wasn’t anything to say to that. I finished my breakfast and Kara took me upstairs and helped me dress in sweatpants and a zippered sweat jacket that didn’t need to be pulled over my head, and could be wrapped around my arm in the sling. She put the padded sparring headgear on me, and we went downstairs. I felt helpless when she had to tie my tennis shoes for me, but just trying to bend over had caused severe discomfort and made my head throb, not to mention having only one hand available.

Michael, Albert, and Stephie all joined us for our fifteen-minute walk around the neighborhood, and when we returned to the house we saw Bart on the front porch of his house. He came down to the sidewalk to say ‘hello’ and ask how Jessica and I were doing. We spoke for a few minutes before he headed to work, and Kara took me back into the house. I didn’t want to stay in bed, so we went to the sunroom, and I relaxed on one of the lounge chairs.

“Only you could get hurt worse by falling than your wife did in a car accident,” Penny said, coming into the great room.

“Who let you in?” I griped as she kissed me on the cheek.

“Amber is going to play with Stephie today instead of going to daycare,” she said. “That’s normal for Thursdays.”

“How are things at the office?”

“I am absolutely forbidden from saying anything at all about work to you.”

“Bullshit, Penelope. Spill it!”

She giggled, “I think we can negotiate! You know what I want!”

“Guard!” I said as loudly as I could without worsening my headache.

Kara came into the room, laughing, “You are NOT a prisoner, Steve Adams! I’m your wife, not a prison guard!”

“Uh-huh,” I said. “You could have fooled me. This visitor is annoying me.”

Kara and Penny giggled.

“I guess you didn’t go for her deal!” Kara teased.

“Who made this rule?” I asked.