Chapter Fourteen
“How long was I out?” I asked Dr. Crosby, who leaned over me to listen to my chest with a stethoscope. He was an older, heavyset man with white hair, bushy eyebrows and gold spectacles. He ignored my question as he focused on his task. After a moment, he tugged the ear buds out and looped the instrument around his neck.
“You’ve been in a coma for five days,” he replied as he checked both my incisions, “so let me be the first to congratulate you on what has been an amazing recovery. You’re a real fighter, Josh. There’s no doubt about that.”
I grimaced slightly and spoke in a hoarse whisper. “Thank you.”
“Any trouble catching your breath?” he asked.
“No.”
“Chest pain? Pain in your calves?”
“My thigh’s pretty sore.”
He turned to the nurse. “Get him some Dilaudid. Two milligrams. Slow IV push.” He held a finger up in front of my face. “Now I want you to follow my finger with your eyes. Any double vision?”
“No.”
“Good. Now look at my nose.” He shone a penlight in both my eyes. “Very good.” Leaning back, he dropped the light into his pocket. “Squeeze my fingers as hard as you can. Excellent, Josh.” He told me to lift my good leg. “Now try to resist while I push down.”
While he checked my reflexes, I asked, “What happened to me…exactly?”
It was a pretty broad inquiry, considering all the questions I had about the past five days.
He peered at me curiously over the rims of his spectacles. “Josh, do you remember anything about what occurred?”
Feeling tired all of a sudden, I closed my eyes. “I know I was wounded while pursuing a suspect. He shot me in the stomach and the leg.”
“Good,” the doctor said.
I opened my eyes and turned my head on the pillow. “Did you just say ‘good’?”
He chuckled. “I meant it’s good that you remember what happened. And do you know where you are? What city?”
“I’m in the hospital, and this is Boston.” I took a few seconds to draw in a breath. “Is my partner okay? What about the woman in the van? Do you know anything about that?”
“I’m afraid not,” Dr. Crosby said. “But I’m sure your colleagues will be in to see you in the morning. Your family’s been here constantly. Tonight was the first night none of them stayed, only because the nurses badgered them to go home and get some rest.” He consulted the clipboard and flipped one of the pages over the back. “Oh, and your girlfriend was here as well.”
My pulse hammered against the inside of my veins. “Girlfriend?”
“Yes. Blond hair. Nice smile. She had a daughter with her…”
“Carla?”
He wrote something down on the chart. “I’m not sure what her name was. You’d know better than I would.”
I swallowed uneasily and wondered if Carla had changed her mind about us. Maybe the thought of losing me—really losing me—had caused her to rethink her decision. Or did she just feel guilty?
Dr. Crosby circled around the bed and checked something on one of the monitors. While he was doing that, the nurse returned and administered what I assumed to be pain medication. I immediately relaxed as it flowed through my system.
“Can I ask you something?” I said to the doctor, turning my head on the pillow.
“Sure.” He seemed distracted by what he was writing in my chart.
“Did my heart stop while I was in the operating room?”
That caused him to look up. He inclined his head slightly. “Why would you ask that?”
I wasn’t sure how to explain because I didn’t want to come off as a nutcase, but I needed to know what happened.
“I think I had a…” I paused and spoke in a whisper. “I’m not sure what to call it. It was some kind of experience, I guess.”
“What kind of experience?”
My mouth went dry. “This is going to sound crazy. I don’t even know if it was real. Maybe it was just a dream. Or maybe it was one of those… You know…”
He shook his head and leaned a little closer.
I glanced over at the nurse, who appeared busy with something. “It might have been one of those near-death experiences.” I whispered, “I saw a light.”
For a moment the doctor studied my pupils. “What kind of light?”
“I’m not sure how to describe it. It was…peaceful. It drew me in.”
“What else did you see, Josh?”
Terrific. He did think I was a nut. I could hear it in his voice.
I probably should have shrugged it all off right there and said it was just a dream. It must have been the drugs that made me continue to blabber on because I was pretty sure that when I sobered up from all this, I wouldn’t want the guys at the station to hear about it.
“I saw the operation,” I told him, “but it was like I was watching from the ceiling. One of the surgeons said they were losing me, and everyone panicked. Is that what happened? Did I flatline?”
“I wasn’t there,” Dr. Crosby replied, “so I’m not sure about the details.”
Wouldn’t it be in the chart? I wondered.
He patted me on the shoulder. “Rest assured, you’re fine now. The surgery went well and they were able to remove both bullets.”
“What about my spleen?” I asked. “They removed that too, didn’t they?”
There was no way I could miss how the nurse stopped what she was doing and looked up to meet Dr. Crosby’s eyes.
“They did.” He moved around the bed and spoke quietly to the nurse. “Let’s order a psych consult for tomorrow.”
Can you at least send for the third year resident with the long brown hair?
Leah… I want Leah.
The drugs were making me sleepy…
“Everything else looks good,” Dr. Crosby cheerfully said. “Now you just need to focus on healing. First thing tomorrow, we’ll set you up in a physio program.”
“Physio?” I drowsily asked.
“For your leg,” he explained. “The bullet went straight into a major muscle. Tore it up pretty bad. I’m afraid you’ll be off work for a while.”
“How long?”
“At least six weeks, I’d say.”
Six weeks?
Ah, hell. That wasn’t what I wanted to hear because I’d been busting my butt lately to get a promotion.
“Will I make a full recovery?” I groggily asked. I certainly didn’t want to end up walking with a cane, stuck behind a desk before I could really prove myself in the field.
Though maybe I’d already done that with this fiasco.
“That’s entirely up to you,” the doctor replied as he lowered the clipboard to his side, “and how hard you’re willing to work at this. I’ll warn you now, though—it’s not going to be easy. There will be pain, but you seem to be made of pretty stern stuff. You just have to make up your mind every day—are you going to throw in the towel, or are you going to throw one more punch?”
“A boxing metaphor,” I said with a sigh, gazing up at the ceiling, still thinking about Carla, wondering why she had come.
“Just remember,” he said, “half the battle’s up here.” He tapped his temple three times with the tip of his finger.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Good for you. Now I have to go take care of a few things. This is Nurse Gayle. She’ll answer any other questions you might have.”
She leaned over the bed and smiled at me.
I had so many questions about what happened, I didn’t know where to begin—but it wasn’t Nurse Gayle I wanted to talk to.