Chapter 7

I must have fallen asleep, because when I woke up, a golden light from the setting sun was beaming through the window.

I pressed the call button and a nurse hurried through the door. “Is everything all right?”

I inched upward on the pillows and grimaced at the stiffness in my body. “I’d like to take a walk.”

“That’s a great idea.” She approached the bed and lowered the rail. “And very ambitious of you. Most patients have to be dragged kicking and screaming out of their beds after surgery.”

“I don’t want to just lie around,” I told her. “I need to get back to work. Sooner would be better than later.”

My muscles felt weak and rubbery, but I was determined to be mobile again. I couldn’t let myself fall into a rut.

“You’re scheduled for physio tomorrow,” the nurse informed me as we shuffled toward the door. “Just remember, even a healthy person would find it a challenge to walk after being asleep for five days.”

We walked the full length of the hall and back, and I realized quickly that that was more than enough. “Thanks,” I said. “I needed that.” By then I was feeling a bit dizzy and needed to get back in the bed.

A voice in the room startled me out of my thoughts and caused me to jump. “Did someone order a psych consult?”

I lifted my head on the pillow. There stood Wendy at the foot of my bed. The evening sunlight from the window reflected blindingly off the aluminum clipboard she hugged to her chest.

“That’s a definite yes,” I replied, more than a little relieved to see her again, “for the crazy cop in room 237.”

Her face lit up with a smile as she moved to the side of my bed.

“Let’s get you sitting up so I can do a proper assessment,” Wendy said. She laid the clipboard on the side table and raised the head of my bed with the push of a button.

This allowed me an opportunity to admire, up close, the lovely details of her face. She had grown into a beautiful woman.

“I’m just going to ask you a few standard questions to get us started. Are you ready?”

“Fire away.”

Pen in hand, she looked down at the chart. “Do you have any medical problems?”

“Besides having been shot twice in the past week.” I inched upwards on the bed. “Well, I have no spleen, but otherwise, I’m pretty healthy. I exercise regularly, eat well. My blood pressure’s always good.”

“Have you ever been diagnosed with a mental illness in the past?”

“No.”

“Have you ever seen a mental health provider such as a psychiatrist, psychologist, or social worker before? Perhaps at work?”

Again, I said no. Then Wendy asked if I was on any medications, or if anyone in my family suffered from mental illness.

“Not that I know of.”

“Do you belong to any particular religion?”

“Not really,” I replied. “I mean ... I was baptized in the Episcopal Church, but we only went to services on special holidays like Christmas and Easter. It’s not really a big part of my life.”

She wrote some more things down. Then she flipped the page, paused a moment and took a breath.

“All right then. What about hallucinations, Nick? Have you ever had any unusual experiences such as hearing voices that other people can’t hear? Or seeing things other people can’t see? Or do you have unusual ideas, such as feeling that you have special powers that no one else has?”

I hesitated a moment, and she watched me intently.

“It’s written in my chart, I suppose?” I asked. “That’s why you’re asking this question?” Great. Now I sounded paranoid.

She continued to stare at me. “What’s written in your chart?”

“What I told Dr. Russell when I first woke up last night. That I might have had a...” I paused again.

“You might have had a what, Nick?”

I cleared my throat. “It’ll probably sound ridiculous, but I think I might have had a...” I lowered my voice even further. “A near-death experience during surgery.”

When she did nothing but blink at me, I quickly raised a hand. “Look, if it’s all the same to you, I don’t want that to go on my record at work. That’s the last thing I need because they don’t typically issue a weapon to a cop who’s delusional or being diagnosed with some sort of weird psychosis.”

Again, Wendy simply watched me, and I sensed she was waiting for me to elaborate on what happened. Or what I thought happened.

When I didn’t offer anything more, she asked, “Was it an out-of-body experience?”

I wet my lips. “I don’t know. Maybe I went to heaven for a minute, except that I don’t really believe in that stuff. I was hoping ... maybe you’d know, being a psychiatrist and everything. Have you ever dealt with anyone who’s experienced something like this before? Is it common?”