Luka's condition was listed as "critical": a rating automatically
assigned to patients who were not breathing on their own. John sat by
his husband's bed, numb with shock. Although he'd remained fairly
calm immediately following the shooting, the events of the past six
hours caught up to him at last. One moment, he and Luka were laughing
at some silly observation John made: more from relief than actual
humor, the next minute he was up to his elbows in Luka's blood. Now,
he sat by Luka's side shuddering as images of what could have
happened flashed through his mind.
Mere inches had saved his husband. If the bullet had been diverted by
another rib, instead of the one that was actually hit, Luka would
have died. If the shooter had used larger calibre ammunition, Luka
would have died. If traffic had delayed the ambulance... On and on,
John's mind raced while he gently held Luka's right hand in his own
gloved ones. Although his thoughts moved at the speed of light,
outwardly, his benumbed state permitted him to present a calm
appearance to the friends and colleagues who periodically tapped on
the glass to smile their encouragement.
Loss of blood blanched Luka's face. Without the rhythmic rising and
falling of his chest, he could have been mistaken for a cadaver.
Despite the quietly beeping monitors, John frequently checked his
husband's pulse. The respirator helped Luka to breathe thereby
preventing undue strain on traumatized tissue. Nutrient fluids
nourished organs doing their best to recuperate. It would be a while
before Luka's body would be permitted to do any of the work required
of it to ingest, digest, and eliminate food in the regular fashion.
John had been an above-average surgical resident. His aborted study
of surgery had provided him with enough training to be very afraid.
When exposed to air, blood clots. Externally, this drying blood forms
scabs protecting the wounds beneath. Internally, blood clots can
kill. The body's attempt to heal itself in this fashion was the cause
of Lucy's death. She had been showing signs of making a full
recovery. Then a pulmonary artery became blocked and within minutes,
she was gone.
The threat of post-operative infections was also a major cause for
concern. Bodies resent being cut open and this resulting shock to the
system weakens patients leaving them vulnerable and unable to fight
bacteria with anything near optimum strength. Access to the post-
operative ICU was strictly limited, so John willingly assumed some of
the nurse's duties. As everyone waited for the effects of the
anaesthesia to wear off, he updated Luka's chart with data pertaining
to his vital signs: blood pressure, oxygen levels, temperature, and
heart rate.
Luka's chart wasn't actually kept in his room. Paper handled by
staff, who move from patient to patient, can provide lush living
quarters for germs. Instead, the relevant statistics were forwarded
to computer screens at the desk where all of the charts were kept.
This way only one or two people entered the room, theoretically
reducing the chance for infection.
After two hours, John left the ICU to find his father and Mrs.
Riordan. By the time he located them in the waiting room, Millicent
had also arrived. "How is he?", she asked for all of them.
"His vital signs are stable but his condition will remain critical
until he is breathing without a respirator." John said quietly.
"How long before he wakes up?" Roland wanted to know.
"It depends...", John began to answer then his voice caught. Roland
hugged his son as emotions that had been suppressed broke free.
"Everything's going to be alright, Johnny. God won't let Luka die. He
knows how much you love him." It had been a long time since his son
had shown a need for reassurance. It had been even longer since
Roland had been there to provide it. He rubbed John's back as sobs
shook his slender frame. "Shhh, Johnny... Your Daddy's with you..."
These murmured phrases eventually calmed John to the point where he
could speak. Wiping his eyes with the heels of his hands, he summoned
up a brief smile. "You always seem to be here when I need you the
most. Thanks, Dad. I love you."
"Feeling better?" Roland was barely able to keep his own voice
steady. To the end of his days, he would bitterly regret not being
the kind of father his children deserved.
"Yeah. That was bound to happen sooner or later. I'll be okay for
now." John exhaled and answered his father's first question as if the
emotional outburst had never been. "It depends on several factors."
John briefly smiled again. "People react to anaesthesia differently.
If all goes according to the book, Luka should begin coming around in
another two hours or so."
"His body can only be helped by the rest, Mr. C." Mrs. Riordan
added. "And the same goes for you, me boyo. Why don't you lie down on
the couch over there? Try to sleep. I'll wake you in plenty of time
to rejoin your husband before he comes to and starts to fret. Come
on..." She took John's arm and led him to the couch.
"I'm too keyed up to sleep." John objected.
"Stretch out anyway and close your eyes. You're more tired than you
realize."
John followed orders. He knew better than to try and change Mrs.
Riordan's mind. Once it was made up, there was nothing to do but get
out of her way. He put his arms over his face and kept still;
thinking there was no way he could fall asleep. His body had other
ideas however, and in less than ten minutes he was snoring.
"Mother of Mercy, will you listen to that noise." Mrs. Riordan looked
fondly at the young man she'd known from infancy.
"When he stayed with me after he was attacked, the maids used to bet
on whether or not the ornaments on the etagere outside his room would
vibrate off the shelves. Luka must sleep wearing ear plugs."
Millicent observed quietly. Watching her son and grandson, had
brought tears to her eyes as well. She decided to write and thank her
absent husband for inadvertantly re-uniting Roland and John. "Son,
what on earth happened at that hearing?"
Roland relayed Philippa's account of the events that took place
earlier in the day. "They arrested the man who did it. The idiot was
so hell-bent on revenge, he neglected to remember the reporters.
Philippa believes neither John nor Luka will need to testify at his
trial. The whole thing is on video tape." Roland sighed. "The bullet
was recovered at the scene by the police. This bastard is going to
jail for a long time, and when he's a very old man, he'll be sent
home to face the authorities in Bosnia."
"Good. I called Richard before I came over here. He's going to have
armed security guards start working at the boys' apartment building.
Afterall, there is a large number of elderly residents with
substantial incomes living there." Millicent grinned for a
moment. "At least that's what I'll tell John or Luka if they ask."
"Excellent idea, Mother." Roland agreed looking at his only remaining
son. He prayed silently that all would be well. If anything happened
to Luka, God only knew how John would cope with losing the other half
of himself.
They talked softly for another forty minutes or so then a nurse
appeared at the door. "Where's Dr. Carter?"
"Asleep on the couch. Is anything wrong?" Roland asked.
"Oh no. Dr. Kovac is still unconcious. However, if Dr. Carter wants
to be there when he wakes, he'd better get suited up again."
Mrs. Riordan went over to John and gently rubbed his shoulders. "Come
on sweetheart, time to make yourself decent for a date with your
husband."
John sat up, instantly awake. Like most physicians, he'd acquired the
ability to waken fully focused. He hugged his family and left with
the nurse. The disinfecting shower revived him somewhat and once he'd
finished dressing, he resumed his place at Luka's side. The readouts
on the monitors were encouraging. Luka's blood pressure was only
slightly below normal. His temperature was still somewhat low but
that was much better than otherwise. A fever could signal the
presence of infection.
John took his husband's cool hand. "I'm back, Sascha.", he said
softly. "You really scared me in the operating room. Please don't
ever do that again. JA Ljubav te." He repeated the last statement
several times, while pressing Luka's hand to his cheek.
The door opened and Peter Benton came in. "How are you holding up?"
"I'm okay I guess. Thank you for saving his life. I owe you a
tremendous debt." John said quietly.
"Hey, man I was just doing the job they pay me for." Benton replied
shortly. Nevertheless, his eyes were shining.
"Yeah, right...", John said. Luka's hand twitched. "Is he waking up?"
Peter went to the other side of the bed and gently tapped Luka's
face. His eyelids fluttered then opened.
"Hey there, sleepy head. Welcome back." John said as he stroked
Luka's hand.
Luka's eyes focused on John. He was still very pale. His eyebrows and
lashes stood out against the pallor of his visage. John softly
touched Luka's cheek. "You came through the surgery very well. Dr.
Benton claims he was merely doing his job which is perfectly true as
long as he admits to being a routine miracle worker. Dad, Gamma, and
Mrs. Riordan are also here..." Luka gestured feebly. He wanted to be
extubated.
"Whoa, Sascha. Not so fast. That tube is going to stay right where it
is until Dr. Benton gives us the high sign. I don't want you wearing
yourself out talking to me. I know what you want to say and I thank
you for loving me. Now, why don't you go back to sleep. I love you
and I'm not going anywhere. They're going to hook me up with my own
personal Foley, so I can sit here and drive you nuts with my
babblings of relief. Go back to sleep, my beloved Luka. Janaskja's
here." Luka's eyelids closed.
Dr. Benton pretended to be absorbed in the monitor readouts as John
spoke to his husband. His former student's matter-of-fact tone could
not hide the fact that he loved Luka deeply. The one-sided
conversation was one of the most intimate he'd ever heard. He felt as
if he'd walked in on the couple as they were making love. When he
glanced up, he saw John had settled himself in the chair and was
still holding Luka's hand.
"When he wakes up again, and if his vital signs are still good, we'll
extubate. I'll check back in a couple of hours."
"Thanks again, Dr. Benton."
"Don't mention it, Carter.", the surgeon left as one of the ICU
nurses came in.
"Dr. Carter? Your friends downstairs thought you might like to have
this." She held out Luka's rosary, still damp from its disinfecting
bath.
"Thank you, Nurse Carstairs." John took the stainless steel beaded
chain and immediately crossed himself. "Our Father..." With any luck,
he'd be finished with his first Novena before Luka woke up.*
Hours later, John looked up when he heard someone softly tapping on
the window. Kerry Weaver held up a huge sheet of computer paper
bearing the words "Get Well Soon". John smiled at her as she taped it
to the outside of the glass. John got up to examine it closely.
Almost everyone at County had signed it, personalizing their
signatures with small drawings or short messages. Kerry grinned and
using American Sign Language, telegraphed, "Hang in there." John blew
her a kiss in return. She gave him the thumbs-up sign and left to
return to the ER.
Luka woke up again three hours later. His vital signs were still
improving. Peter Benton, responding to his pager, showed up and
examined Luka's on-screen "chart". "Go ahead and extubate him." His
voice sounded oddly flattened coming from the speaker mounted in a
corner of the room.
"You know the drill, Sascha. On four, I'm going to remove the tube."
John said smiling as he detached the external connection to the
respirator. One, two, three..." Luka inhaled and on "four" exhaled as
John withdrew the tube from his airway. "Hold on a second beloved."
John took a sealed bottle of sterile water and quickly connected the
drinking straw. "Three sips is your limit, you're driving remember?"
The water never reached Luka's esophagus as the interior of his mouth
absorbed it all. "I love you." His voice was hoarse but strong.
"I love you too. How do you feel?"
"Like I've been shot." He was smiling, nonetheless. "How are you?"
"Numb, kind of shaky. I fell apart, but Dad was there to put me back
together. Nevertheless, don't be surprised if I start weeping all
over the place. You really scared the shit out of me." John
replied. "Now, why don't you go back to sleep." John could see their
short conversation had tired his husband. "You've told me everything
I needed to know. Smiling, Luka drifted off again. It was nearly one
in the morning. John quietly left the room and headed to the lounge.
Millicent was now stretched out on the couch, asleep. Roland and Mrs.
Riordan were playing two-handed bridge.
"It looks like he's going to be alright. They've upgraded his
condition to 'serious'." John grinned. He's breathing on his own and
his vital signs are better than we'd hoped they'd be at this point."
"Thank God." Mrs. Riordan said.
"Do you need anything, son?"
"No. Thanks, Dad. I'm going to find a coffee pot and dive in head
first."
"Is Luka okay?", their conversation had roused Millicent.
"It looks very much like it, Gamma. He's not out of the woods yet,
but he's definitely on the right path. Why don't you guys go home and
get some real rest?" John suggested. "Luka'll probably sleep most of
this morning and afternoon. I'll call you if anything happens."
"If you're sure, John."
"I'm sure. Thank you for waiting with us. We really appreciate it."
John hugged them each in turn. "I'll go down with you. I think Dr.
Weaver's on duty. I want to thank the trauma team for saving our
lives."
As they rode down in the elevator, Mrs. Riordan spoke up. "John, had
you planned on taking extended leave to be with Luka?"
"Frankly, I haven't thought that far ahead. I'd planned to discuss it
with Dr. Weaver after you guys left." John yawned, his mouth opening
wide.
"Well, if you don't think I'll be in the way, I won't mind staying at
your apartment and nursing the dear boy. It's not as if I haven't
done it before." Siobhan Riordan's grey eyes twinkled.**
"Thank you, we'd both like that." John hugged his godmother again as
the elevator doors opened. He walked them to where Roland's limo was
waiting then went to locate Kerry. She was in the lounge waiting for
the coffee machine to finish working its magic. "Dibs on the second
cup." John said and yawned again.
"How's Luka?" Kerry poured two mugs of the lethal concoction known
to her staff as "Kerry's Killer Brew."
"We've extubated him. He seems to be doing alright so far." John took
a gulp. "I needed this."
"Dr. Chen offered to cover the first half of your shift tomorrow, I
mean today. And Dr. Finch volunteered to take the second half."
"I'll thank them when I see them. I'll probably return to work
tomorrow. My godmother has offered to nurse Luka once he's released."
"Don't worry about it, Carter. Your father already asked if we would
like to have temps cover for you two. I checked with Romano and he
said go ahead. Both of you need some time to process all that's
happened."
"Dad doesn't have to do that."
"I know. I told him the very same thing. He assured me the only
benefit to having wealth was being able to help other people. He
didn't want you or Luka to worry about anything while he recovers.
Technically, you're temporarily re-assigned to the staff upstairs.
Your salary will be paid as usual. It's not as if the temps are going
to cost County anything. And apart from the odd homicidal maniac,
Luka's as healthy as ten horses. He's built up enough sick leave to
get him through this with weeks to spare."
John grinned as he finished his coffee. "You're right, Dr. Weaver. I
really don't want to be anywhere else but Luka's bedside. Could you
thank the trauma team for us? I should be getting back but I needed
some 'real' coffee first. The ICU staff has been wonderful but they
couldn't make a decent cup of swamp water to save their lives." John
surprised Kerry by giving her a peck on the cheek. "Thank you for
being my friend, for saving our lives, for everything."
By the time John returned to the ICU, he could barely keep his eyes
open. In spite of Kerry's strong hand with the coffee scoop, he was
almost dead on his feet. He went through the disinfecting drill and
entered Luka's room, preparing to sleep in the hard-backed chair. The
nurses had a surprise for him. A gurney had been wheeled in. John
quickly broke the seal on the large plastic envelope and withdrew a
disposable pillow and sheet. He pushed the gurney until it was next
to Luka's bed, stretched out sighing, and reached for Luka's
hand. "Good night, Sascha." Silence, then snores.
When Luka woke up just after dawn, he smiled upon hearing the
familiar thunderous cataract of sound. Turning his head, he saw John,
flat on his back, the sheet half off the gurney. A nurse came in with
his morning meds: non-aspirin pain-killers and a mild sedative. "Does
he always make this much noise?"
Luka swallowed the pills and nodded. "Thank you, nurse." A choked off
snort signalled the end of Carter's slumber. He sat up to find Luka
watching him and smiling. His color had improved. He looked less like
a corpse and more like a living person."
"Good morning, Sascha. Did I wake you?"
"No. It was time for my meds. Why is it that hospitals wake you up to
take something to make you go to sleep?"
"Beats me. How are you doing?"
"Not too bad. I can't wait to get out of here. I'll let you in on a
secret: I hate hospitals."
"You should talk to your therapist, beloved. A doctor who hates
hospitals... sounds like suppressed masochistic tendancies to me."
John grinned.
John got up went over to his husband. Leaning over the bed, he pulled
down his mask and kissed Luka gently on the forehead. "Feeling better
now?"
"Much. You wouldn't happen to have any of that Chicago sausage handy?"
"Yes, but you won't be able to deal with it just yet. Don't worry
though, I'll save it all for you. For the next few days, as your
doctor, I'm recommending the usual invalid diet: lots of cuddles and
hugs and maybe some kisses to keep things interesting..."
"Uh-huh. I'll starve to death."
"That's my gloomy groom. Trust me, the time will fly by."
Brief though it was, this conversation used up most of Luka's
reserves. John smiled at his husband and placed his index finger over
his own lips. "If you don't want me to sing to you, I suggest you try
to go back to sleep."
"I'll be good."
"I love you, Luka." John kissed him on the lips and caressed his
cheek.
Luka closed his eyes as John pushed the gurney out of the way, folded
up the sheet, and resumed his station on the chair next to Luka's
bed. When an hour had elapsed, John went to check in with his family.
Mrs. Riordan answered. "How is the dear man?"
"Much improved, Mrs. R. Still weak as a newborn kitten, but his
vitals are looking much better."
"God be praised. I'll be there in about another hour or so. I spoke
with your nice Dr. Romano and he's going to allow me to look after
Luka while you get rested."
"You don't have to do that, Mrs. R. The nurses here are actually
lining up to get on the list to take care of him." John couldn't
believe his ears: Romano "nice"?
"Well, they'll have to get in line behind *me*." Mrs. Riordan
chuckled.
Author's Note:
* Thank you, D.S. for "Home" and for the surname of the ICU nurse.
** When I first saw this beautiful name in print, I'll confess I was
stumped. See-ob-han? Sigh-ob-han? Well... Ms. Carole Nelson Douglas,
fantasy and mystery writer extraordinaire, provided the correct
pronouciation and saved my pride. It's Shuh-vaughn, folks. Erin Go
Bragh! KPP
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