Chapter 88: CATs and Jell-O

Sunday, February 27, 1983

I woke when they moved me, but since they moved me on the hospital bed, I didn’t wake very much. I barely noted the room I was in, then went back to sleep.

By the time I was awake for real, the sun was out. Mom was sitting in a chair, yawning.

I started to say “Morning, Mom”, but found my jaw was stiff. It didn’t really hurt, but then nothing really hurt. I suspected there must be pain medicine in my IV. That was fine — I doubted I’d get hooked — but when I’d been in the hospital with appendicitis, I’d clotted in more than one IV a day, and it’d screwed up my surface veins for years. This was unlikely to be a multi-week stay, but I didn’t want things to repeat.

“Oh! Honey!” she said, blinking awake. “How do you feel?”

I thought about that for a second. “Like a car hit me.”

She blinked, then laughed. Loudly. Almost too loudly, but she settled down quickly.

“I’m sorry,” she said, blushing.

“I meant it to be funny,” I said.

She blushed a little more. “Of course you did.”

“Headache has gone down, I think.” I blinked and thought it through. “A bit dizzy. Maybe the pain medicine.”

“I’ll tell them.”

I nodded. Well, again, I tried to, but found I was still braced. Probably all for the best.

“Jas?”

“Camille and Francis say that she’s pretty okay. They’re worried a little about her neck, but not in a big, serious way.”

“Thank God,” I said, and meant it. Maybe not Mom and Dad’s God, or not exactly, but my relationship with God was at least stronger than that of the proverbial atheist in the foxhole, and I was quite ready to believe there were powers beyond our knowledge. Oh, what happened to Angie and me might have been random and natural, but it was certainly ‘beyond our knowledge.’

“Yes,” Mom said. “Thank God! I know everyone at church will pray for the two of you. Your father and Angie are at home, resting, but they should be back soon. He called Doctor Ott, though, to let him know.”

“I’m going to be quiet for now. Jaw is stiff,” I said.

“That’s fine, honey. I hope it’ll get better quickly,” Mom said.

That made me think. I was flat on my back, neck braced, jaw stiff, on what was likely serious pain medicine, on Sunday. U.T.’s tournament started Friday. What were the odds that we’d be physically able to compete at a high level? I suspected they were low. Mumbling and wincing through rounds wouldn’t do us any favors.

Thank goodness Cammie and I had earned our ticket to ToC at Grapevine! I’d have been okay, but it’d have made me feel like I was letting Cammie down. I’d lose my shot at Extemp, but ... eh. That didn’t matter all that much to me.

Similarly, Jas had her ticket punched, too. Not in Humorous, though, but she might well be fine to compete. She hadn’t had her jaw slugged, after all.

I was surprisingly calm about that. Perhaps it was due to something else in the IV, but likely not. Just ... me. The jerk had hit me, and that was bad. He’d put Jasmine at risk of serious injury or death, and that was very bad. But slugging me? That I could pass off as just a drunk guy being drunk.

That said, the word ‘lawsuit’ was on my mind already. Drunk driver, serious property damage, risk of loss of life, assault and battery ... yeah, we had a case, and it wasn’t a stupid money grab either.

The pain medicine, boredom, and exhaustion took their toll, and I went back to sleep for a bit.

When I awoke, it was to find Dad and Angie waiting, with an open seat I guessed was Mom’s. Moreover, there was a doctor in the room, talking to Dad. A fairly pretty doctor, too, and that wasn’t entirely my older self putting a word in. I’d guess early thirties, brown hair, designer glasses, trim. I had no designs on her, but I’d have to be dead not to notice.

She turned and looked at me as I was still blinking.

“Ah, I see you’re back with us, Steve. How do you feel?”

“Repeating what I told Mom ... like a car hit me.” My words were still more of a croak than my usual voice, but at least I could talk fairly well.

Amazingly, I got nearly as much laughter as I had before. Even the doctor chuckled.

“Good! A sense of humor is a good thing for a patient! And ... it’s nice to meet you. I’m Doctor Blair.”

I extended a hand. “Lousy way to meet, but nice to meet you.”

“How do you really feel?”

“I’m slightly nauseated. My jaw is stiff, and would probably really hurt if not for the medicine that’s got me nauseated. My neck feels fine, but then I can’t move it. A bit of a headache, and the left side of my head is a bit tender. Otherwise I feel fine.”

Mom came back in as I was talking, sitting in the open seat and giving me a smile.

Doctor Blair continued, “Sounds like that covers it. We’re not sure of your neck, yet. Since her parents have cleared it, I can tell you the same is true for Jasmine Nguyen’s. Oh, the odds of there being anything seriously wrong seem low at this point. I’ve already had neurology run an EEG. They say yours is nearly normal, but that could still be your prior concussion. If you had a new one, it’s very minor. Structurally, the CAT scan will tell us a lot. Miss Nguyen is getting hers right now.”

I sighed, relieved. “Thank you for the update. I’d heard she was doing well, but it’s good to know she still is.”

Doctor Blair smiled. “She said she wanted a shared room with you. I suspect that might be good for your spirits, but bad for keeping you both calm and still.”

“Quite possibly,” I said, chuckling a bit. Chuckling hurt a bit, though, so I stopped, and said, “I might have some sore ribs.”

She nodded. “The shoulder belt mostly held you, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you hit the steering wheel at least somewhat.”

“The more I hit the wheel the better, since it means we were going forward and not sideways, meaning he didn’t hit Jasmine.”

“True,” she said, smiling. “From what I hear, turning away likely saved her from more serious injuries. They say the car was fairly messed up.”

“I barely saw it,” I said, and that was the truth. I’d figured at the time that the car was a goner. No one would put significant body work into a car that age. On the other hand ... insurance. Lawsuit. I’d likely be fine.

Her eyes twinkled. “By the way, your toxicology screen was negative across the board. We don’t usually do those.”

“Listen to how I sound,” I said, intentionally not fighting my jaw as much.

She chuckled. “Indeed. I’m sure that will be good to know.”

“Very good.”

“We’d like your original neurologist to review your EEG, and likely repeat it. You won’t be leaving until at least tomorrow afternoon, in any case. You should be going for a CAT scan in about an hour, depending on how Miss Nguyen’s goes. Are you at all familiar with them?”

Why, yes, and far more than I should be. Aloud, I said, “I’ve read about them. They sound amazing.”

“They really are. They’re also a bit loud and boring. We’ll remove the metal brace and just use solid foam, but you’ll have to hold very still for a while.”

“I can do that.”

“Good,” she said. “Anything else?”

“Maybe the nausea is hunger. I lost most of my dinner. You’ve probably got some glucose in that...” I said, glancing towards the IV, “but I could manage Jell-O, anyway.”

She smiled a bit more. “We can get some here. That’s about it for now, though. Orthopedics will need to recheck your jaw, but the initial finding is ‘significant bruising with no major damage.’ We’ll get some imaging of it at the same time we look at your neck.”

“Convenient,” I said.

“I’m going to go for a bit now. I’ll see if we can get any Jell-O up here before the CAT scan.”

“Thanks, Doctor Blair.”

“You’re welcome,” she said, and headed out.

As soon as she left, first Mom, then Angie, hugged me. Carefully, but it was nice, and I hugged right back. No damage to my arms, after all, and my chest didn’t hurt all that much.

After they’d finished, Dad got up, came over, and squeezed my shoulder. Firmly. “We were so worried,” he said. “When Angie said that you’d been in a wreck...”

“I know. I didn’t get to tell them what to tell Angie, or I’d have let you know I was okay.”

He sighed. “What was that idiot thinking?!”

“Nothing, I’m sure.”

“He ought to be locked up!” Mom said.

I completely agreed, but he wouldn’t be, not in 1983. Not in 2020, either, though drunk driving was taken much more seriously. Most likely, at either time, he’d get out on bail, take some points on his license (and maybe get it suspended — or perhaps not, especially now), get a scolding from a judge, do some community service, pay some fines, and go on his way. Punching me might get him in more trouble than the accident itself (even with the risk of serious injury or death), but it wouldn’t get him more than some time in the county jail, not prison.

Dad looked at me. “I have to ask. Toxicology screen?”

Behind him, I could see Angie grin. I was pretty sure Mom wouldn’t see it.

“The police officer at the scene thought I was drunk. I sounded drunk. I got the doctor to order the test to prove I wasn’t.”

Mom frowned. “I know you better than that!”

“You do. They don’t. Besides, teenagers lie, right? My word against his without a test.”

“I have to admit,” Mom said, “it does my heart good to know you’d ask for a test right away.”

“Mine, too,” Dad said.

We talked for a bit, but my jaw was telling me it didn’t want to do a lot more right now, so I begged off after a bit.

After a bit, my Jell-O arrived. Jell-O shouldn’t be much work, but my jaw was not a fan of even that. On the other hand, I felt better right away. That might have been the placebo effect, but never look a gift placebo in the mouth, right?

A bit later, they came and got me up, let me use the bathroom, then took me off for the CAT scan. They let Mom, Dad, and Ang come along. I looked for signs of Camille, Francis, or Jasmine, but hadn’t seen them so far.

The CAT scan itself was essentially as I’d expected — claustrophobic and boring. I tried to doze, and probably succeeded.

When we’d finished, I went back to my room, to find a somewhat unwanted but entirely expected visitor: a police officer. Not the one from last night, or I’d have been more worried (and more annoyed), but I was still just slightly on edge.

He nodded to Dad. “I’d like a word with your son, if that’s okay, Mr. Marshall.”

Dad looked as if he was actually considering it, and then he nodded. “Okay, but I’ll cut it off if I think he needs to.”

“That’s fine, Sir. I just need a few details.”

By this point they’d gotten me back in the bed. Wonder of wonders, my IV was still hanging on there. Hopefully it’d last.

The officer came over and offered his hand. “Hello, Steve. I’m Officer Brantley from the Hedwig Village Police Department.”

I shook hands. “Nice to meet you,” I said, staying neutral.

“Not the circumstances you’d want, I’m sure,” he said, smiling.

“Definitely not.”

“Tell me what happened, please. As much as you can remember.”

I considered it. This was another point where I could (via Dad) insist on a lawyer. On the other hand, I was certain that nothing I would say would incriminate myself and nearly certain that Jasmine and I wouldn’t contradict each other. It was nerve-wracking and, had I been an adult, I might have decided to insist on a lawyer. As a teenager, though? The police could make my life very ... interesting ... for the next couple of years if they decided to.

“Yes, Sir,” I said. “I was taking my girlfriend home after our date. We’d just stopped at the intersection, and were resuming our drive, when I rechecked the side window and saw moonlight glinting off the other car. I had no way to avoid the accident, so I swerved as hard as possible so that he would hit as far back along the car as possible.”

He nodded, taking notes. “Where had you gone on your date?”

“Bangkok Thai, in the Rice Village area.”

“Bit of a drive.”

“We like Thai food, and I’m used to driving.”

“How long have you had your license?”

I figured he knew the answer to that. “I got it just after turning fifteen. I’ve been driving constantly since. No problems until this one.”

He nodded. “So, you’re saying that you checked the other street before proceeding and saw nothing?”

“Yes, Sir. His headlights were off, and ... at the speed he was going, he might have been around the corner when I looked the first time.”

“I’m sure you’re aware that he claims his lights were on at the time, and you pulled out in front of him, making him unable to avoid the accident.”

“I did pull out in front of him, but that’s because he wasn’t visible, so I just proceeded normally after stopping. And ... it was a four-way stop. Even if I had pulled out — even without stopping — under normal circumstances he couldn’t have been going more than ten or fifteen miles an hour if he’d stopped, even with a jackrabbit start in a sports car. And I’m sure you know the bystanders checked and found his lights were off.”

He smiled a bit, making another note. “No alcohol, no drugs, nothing?”

“No. I don’t touch any drugs, and alcohol only at family events, supervised, and certainly not before driving. I’m sure you already know the hospital ran a toxicology screen?”

He looked surprised. I guess he didn’t know that. “No! That’s very interesting. How’d that happen? Do you know?”

“I asked them to. The officer on the scene thought I might be drunk because of how I sounded. That’s just because the other driver punched me. But it seemed better to get that settled ahead of time and make sure no one got the wrong impression.”

He smiled a bit more. “Quick thinking. A test now wouldn’t mean anything, but one done last night ... that will make a difference.”