ch. 3

The insistent beeping of an alarm awoke Arlis Morten at her station. She felt a stab of guilt, but working graveyard shift for the past two months had taken its toll on her. Short staffed, the hospital had her working three to four 12 hour shifts a week, all of which sent her home sometime in the morning before the sun rose. As a single mom with two teenage sons, she had her hands full just with laundry, not to mention shopping and chores around the house. Add to that the stress caused by her two sons who were constantly in trouble at school and anywhere else with rules, and she felt it was noble enough that she stayed on at the hospital, covering for shifts when needed to help those with what she deemed as “bigger problems.” Sometimes it was just too much to even keep her eyes open.
This night was no different, but now she had to move. Led to room 57, the alarm indicated that the patient’s heart beat had grown irregular. This particular patient had been in a vegetative state for weeks now and steps had been taken to remove him from life support. He had a no living relatives and so he remained in the care of the state. As she was checking the support readouts, the alarm changed in intensity. His heart had stopped altogether. Don’t need to pull the plug now, the nurse thought, he decided to quit on his own. She glanced at the monitor showing a flat green line and the infamous monotone filled the room. The other on duty nurse came in and they wordlessly worked in tandem in preparation for an attempt to get his heart beating again. Arlis’ back was turned when, suddenly, the alarm stopped. Again the room quiet was only interrupted by the steady beep of the monitor tracking the patient’s now steady heartbeat. Both nurses looked at each other, then the monitor. More than a little puzzled, there had still not been a word spoken between them.
The cynical remark that was her calling card died on her lips as a different alarm sounded, this one coming from the equipment regulating his respiration. Just as suddenly as the first, the alarm quieted in the middle of the nurses practiced preparations. The steady hum of the respirator was now interrupted by a soft gurgling coming from the bed. Arlis, the more experienced nurse, slowly extracted the tube that had been filling the patient’s lungs with oxygen and emptying them of carbon monoxide from his throat. Again the nurses exchanged confused glances and with silent understanding, the younger nurse headed for the desk to call the doctor in charge of this ward. Arlis stayed and watch in amazement as, one by one, alarms went off only to be shut off again as each of the patient’s life support systems were rendered unnecessary. She had seen miraculous recoveries, people waking from year long comas, paraplegics learning to walk and sometimes run, but this? This is unbelievable, she thought to herself.
Completely baffled, she continued to remove the now unneeded life support equipment. By the time the doctor arrived, the patient lay unencumbered on his bed with nothing but a gown and blanket to cover him. Still, not a word had been spoken, so the doctor’s voice seemed foreign to the room when he asked, “When did this start?”
“His rapid recovery from the wounds and breaks has already been reported,” the younger nurse replied, “but this…this is just weird.”
The doctor raised an eyebrow. “This man was on full life support 20 minutes ago,” the nurse added, “a complete vegetable. Now look at him.” All eyes were immediately drawn to the prone form now holding their attention.
After a beat, the doctor shrugged, “There is a note on his record that demands any and all progress or changes to be reported to the police department… I guess this is worthy of a call huh?” All he got for his efforts to lighten the situation was blank, overworked, underpaid stares. “They’ll be the ones to decide what is to be done.” He turned to the door and said over his shoulder, “But that will have to wait till morning.”
“Wait my eye!” came a strained voice behind them, “I want outta this bag right now.” They all turned in astonishment to find the patient up on his elbow staring intently at them. The doctor fell back a step, catching himself on the door frame, aghast.
“Well?” the patient spoke again, “best call them pigs and tell’um the slop’s about to crawl out the trough!”
* * *
If Johnny had known the headache he would get when he got Out, he might have delayed a bit longer. He lay back on the bed and closed his eyes. After trying to construct a few walls, he realized that consciousness made building a bit harder. In a moment he was asleep. That works, he thought. A couple of Pain walls later, Johnny was awake again.
He saw the doctor at the nurse’s station talking on the phone. He seemed quite annoyed with whoever was on the other side of the conversation. The two nurses stood behind him, almost as if to use the good doctor as a shield against any gamma rays or whatever else they suspected might be emanating from Johnny’s person. They seemed at loss with what to do or think about him. Johnny smiled faintly, remembering his speech. He had found years ago that no one took a hick in the city seriously and that had saved his bacon on several occasions. The underrated man is the overlooked one. Overlooked, he was free to roam and the last one suspected of any sleight or blame. The fact was that Johnny had a mind for facts and language. The hours not spent under a hood were with his nose in a book. At the slightest smell of mold, Johnnies mind was whisked away to his childhood memories of laying up in his uncle’s attic, surrounded by the water damaged encyclopedias that filled his afternoons while his uncle stumbled in a drunken rage below him. It was a typical childhood memory for him, moments of respite amidst a cacophony of constant fear.
Astute as he had been in his youth, Johnny was amazed at the details that he noticed as he looked around the room. Already, without remembering he had counted, he knew there were one hundred, five and a half ceiling tiles above his head. The man that was in the bed next to him was fifty three years old, a stroke victim, needed his bedpan changed and his toenails needed a trim. The doctor’s fingertips were slightly yellow from smoking, but he chewed spearmint cum to try and rid of from his breath. The two nurses’ body language showed that theirs was a strictly working relationship, the younger of the two nonchalant, and the older standoffish. The older nurse was wearing a pair of therapeutic shoes that squeaked annoyingly as she walked while the younger, male nurse’s Reeboks had been on sale last week at a local sporting goods store.
Johnny’s first thought about his new level of consciousness was, that’s a lot of useless crap, but he knew that every nuance noticed could be banished from his mind, then recalled in an instant. The following thought was simply, cool.
Once again, Johnny decided to experiment. Filtering out the rhythmic noises of the life supports equipment, Johnny focused on the doctor’s conversation, hearing every hushed syllable from over thirty feet away.
“…All I know is that Detective Knowles is supposed to be notified of any change at any hour. I’ve got procedure too, you…policeman, so call the man…woman, whatever and get her down here, now. I’ve done my part and now you do yours. My responsibility ends with this phone call.” The receiver was not so softly returned to its cradle.
The doctor turned and walked into Johnny’s room. “The term ‘pig’ makes more sense to me every day.” Johnny just grinned.