Chapter 9: Burn Unit

The UC Davis Medical Center is located on the south (opposite) side of Sacramento, so it took us some time for us to get there. And, no surprise, Tara and I were left in a waiting room while Mom and Dad entered the burn unit. I was pleased to learn the unit, and hospital, had an exceptional reputation and that Dad would be receiving great care.

With nothing else to do, we began talking together. “Why are they doing all this for us?” asked Tara. I told her that Dad had been so very brave and saved billions of dollars and a vast swath of California from disaster. Medical treatment they should have to cover anyway, and SPL wanted to stay on our good side.

“I think when Mom gets over the shock and feels he is on the road to recovery, she will be talking to the lawyers at her work. This whole mess could be worth an awful lot of money to our family when everything gets settled.”

“What do you mean, ‘an awful lot of money’?”

“I mean, millions. Multiple millions. You and I are going to be fully funded for as much college as we can stand!”

“Nora, I would give it all up just to be sure Dad is OK.”

“These UC doctors are the best in the business. His hand is in good hands. Ouch! Don’t hit me, we’re in a hospital.”

Time passed. Eventually Tara spoke up.

“I’m looking forward to a nice swim when we get to the hotel. And you’re swimming with me.”

“I don’t think so. In public? No way.”

“Yes, you are. Do you not understand that 99% of you is beautiful? “Is it so impossible that someone could be attracted to you? Why?”

“Tara, I, I —”

I broke down in tears. Beyond the conversation we were having, all the stress was overwhelming me.

It was at that very unfortunate moment that Mom appeared. Tara explained my tears by saying everything had just caught up with me and I would be alright. Then she asked for the news.

I don’t think I have ever seen this face on my mother before. Fear and rage in equal measure.

“Your father is not in immediate danger of losing his life over this. However, he has an slightly elevated risk for cancer and will need to be carefully monitored in the future. For now —”

Mom took a beat to collect herself. “There’s no other way to put this: the radiation burns killed his hand, it is dead. The longer it stays on his arm, the risk of sepsis and gangrene increases. Either of those could kill him.”

“We have been given no choice. His left hand and wrist will be amputated. Tonight. He’s been admitted to a private room and put under sedation. I’m sorry, you cannot see him, and he’s unconscious anyway.”

Her tears were flowing now. “Because of the man he is, his thoughts while still awake were not for himself, but for us. He regretted causing us so much grief.”

We sat together for a while arm in arm. Not speaking, just trying to absorb the news. As the shock faded, I held on to a single idea. A one-handed living Dad is far better than losing him altogether! Even before we left for Sacramento, seeing his extreme burns had convinced me his hand could be lost.

The three of us sat together as a family, coming to grips with the events. As I explained how I felt about Dad, I could feel our tensions begin to ease. In all my unhappy times, I never once felt that my family didn’t love me, stain and all. They were my refuge, particularly those big burly Dad arms around me. He was always comforting, whether it was a skinned knee or a playground nastiness that was grieving me.

To know that his life would be saved meant all the difference. The hand loss was tragic, but he would retire early now and be with us for many years to come. Mom and Tara were coming to see my way of thinking about it, I could tell.