TIME-TO-SEE-5
Two men in long white coats with stethoscopes draped around their necks entered the room, one had graying hair, the other was quite young and striking in appearance.
A nurse followed the two into the room and said, "Kevin, let me introduce your doctors. This is Dr. Bickford (she gestured to the older gentleman who nodded), and this is Dr. Aarons, (who also nodded and smiled warmly)."
"Well, young man, seems as if you decided to return to our world. Gave us quite a scare, I'll tell you..., " the older man began.
"Oh, I'm sorry it was bad for you," I said, not really exerting myself to offer explanations. "And Thank You for all of your help... What happened?"
"Your vital signs nearly didn't exist when you got here. We couldn't find them. We couldn't get a pulse, and your pupils were unresponsive. I thought you might be 'a goner'," Dr. Bickford said as he smiled and gently placed his cold stethoscope on my chest.
Then he pulled my eyelids up, one at a time, shining his little penlight as he spoke.
The light was much too bright; instantly I squeezed my eyes shut tightly and jerked my head away all in one motion.
"Hummm?" Dr. Bickford paused-- startled, but he went on.
"I had to hit the pads to get a response from your heart, but thankfully it started up right away..." Dr. Bickford continued.
Dr. Arrons picked up the answer to my question: "Your pupils remained unresponsive for a very long time after we started your heart. It was as if your brain was busy doing something else and didn't want to be bothered with processing the trivial stimuli that we provided."
"Eventually your eyes engaged in rapid eye movement, but even then didn't begin to respond normally to light stimulus for nearly 48 hours," Dr. Aarons added.
I really didn't want to know a lot from the doctors, but they did seem genuinely interested in my well-being and making my survival possible; so I felt I ought to reciprocate their kindness with interest in their conversation, if only to be polite.
"What do you think was wrong with me?" I questioned.
"Well, to be perfectly honest," Dr. Bickford said, "We just don't know."
Dr. Aarons said, "At first we thought you had undergone a cerebral hemorrhage, or stroke, but the MRI was perfect, no irregularities in blood supply to the brain at all."
"Then we speculated that you must be having some kind of spinal meningitis, which prompted our starting intravenous acyclovir," Dr. Bickford explained. "The nurse said that you asked why you were attached to an intravenous drip when you regained consciousness," he added.
"Yes," I replied. "The nurse removed it shortly after I woke up..."
"That was at our instruction. Since we couldn't confirm the diagnosis of meningitis, a spinal tap seemed to be unwarranted. We would be doing nothing more than the antiviral drip anyhow," Dr. Bickford added. "Finally, you were responding more normally by then."
"The nurse said that you had a theory about your condition," Dr. Aarons inquired.
My mind raced to a quick assessment of the situation: "Oh, no, I can't screw up and say the wrong thing again; I want to get out of here as soon as possible," I thought.
"Well," I said. "I felt that there was nothing really wrong with my body... just a hunch, of course," I replied. "I thought that maybe it was some kind of emotional event, because I've been pretty up-tight recently... Uh... to be more exact... A LOT up tight," I said.
"That's certainly possible," Dr. Aarons agreed.
"But who am I," I added.
"YOU, my friend, are the proprietor of that wonderful body lying there in the bed with you. What you say goes... for good or for not-so-good, I'm afraid," Dr. Aarons said. "So watch what you wish for; you just might get it!" he added with a wry smile... "Tell your brain to give up, and it will..."
"Well, can you sit up or walk for us, Kevin?" Dr. Bickford asked.
"I don't know, Sir," I said.
I paused for a moment then went on: "I've been too tired to move, much less walk around. I haven't even gone to the bathroom. I don't think my digestive tract is working very fast yet either. And when I had to pee, Hugo-- Uh...the orderly-- helped me without my having to leave my bed," I answered.
"Well, it seems you have an appetite, which is certainly a good sign. Hummm? A rather unusual request for lunch. We don't get many health conscious patients these days... Your menu will go a long way to helping you to heal... Keep up the sensible eating. We'll help as needed," Dr. Bickford observed as he read from my chart hanging at the end of the bed.
"You know, I'm wondering just when you'll let me out of this place," I said.
"Well, young man, until we are sure that you can see and sit up and walk, there's no possibility of your leaving. You wouldn't be able to take care of your basic needs right now anyhow. Let's deal with that question as time passes. We'll be able to tell more as we examine you daily. Right now, I doubt whether your fatigue has resolved sufficiently for you to consider leaving. Let's talk more about that in a few days shall we?" Dr. Bickford suggested.
He was right. I was in no shape to leave the hospital just yet. But you can be sure that I was more than a little eager for my body to heal and for me to find the things I needed to do differently.
With that, Dr. Bickford smiled and patted me on the shoulder and made movements that signaled to Dr. Arrons that they ought to move along.
Dr. Aarons came over to me and spoke: "If you have any more theories about what's been going on with you, I'd be happy to hear them... I'm a very broadminded person." And Dr. Aarons winked and turned to follow Dr. Bickford toward the door. I thought of a baby duck following its mother down the barnyard path...
Again I was alone in the quiet of my room. Fatigue began to crowd in upon my consciousness, and I closed my eyes, but I wasn't troubled over anything. Even the uncertainty about my recovery, or rather how quickly recovery would take place, didn't worry me. I trusted in what papa told me. I knew I would have the chance to live a better life; just what I would do was unknown to me now, but I would be ever vigilant to find those things that had to be done differently from my old life, my "pre-disappearance," I'd called it.
The door squeaked again. I glanced over to that side of the room. Hugo peeked around the door waiting to be sure it was safe to come in.
"Hi," I said, motioning him to please come in. I couldn't have had a more welcomed visitor.
Hugo walked in quickly with a huge smile on his face. He seemed ever happy these days, not at all like my first meeting with him. That in itself was a wonderful feeling, to see him happy and dealing confidently with life.
He came to the bed and grabbed my hand and leaned over to kiss it.
"HUGO!" I said... as I lifted my head, moved my puckered lips up and down like a rabbit does, and waited for a more fitting greeting. Oh, my, his smile exploded with happiness. He knew exactly what I was indicating, and he gave in to my wishes-- a long, wet smooch square on the mouth.
He wore just the faintest scent of soap and rubbed his stubbly cheek up against my face, nuzzling his head and neck into mine. When he was finished, he stood up and just looked at me with a smile of complete contentment.
I looked into his eyes, and we were happy there together. It's funny how some pauses in conversation can be awkward, but these moments-in-waiting with Hugo were never awkward; they were complete peace for the both of us.
Then I grabbed the pad and pen and scribbled a message: "I can't go home until I can see clear and walk and not fall down."
And Hugo read it and replied: "That's ok. I can take care of you here when the nurses are too busy."
I wrote, "Hugo... You are being too nice. I love to be with you, but I guess that you have a life and things you have to do for yourself... So don't worry about sacrificing for me..."
"I don't sacrifice." Hugo wrote somewhat impatiently in noisy scribble, and he slapped the pen down on the pad.
"Well, you know what I mean..." I wrote back quickly.
"I WANT (underlined twice) to be here with you every chance I get. You helped me when I was hurting bad. I'm glad I can give back a little bit..."
"Oh, Hugo, I don't think I was very helpful... or let's say, not helpful enough."
"What do you mean?" he wrote.
"Well, I thought I should have asked what was happening to you and then helped you with whatever that was..."
"But you did help me with my problem. I didn't have any money, and I was 3 days hungry, and you fed me."
"Yes, that's true, but I know you must have needed more, and I only felt my own hurt remembering when I was hungry."
"But, I'm happy with what you did," Hugo wrote.
Hugo looked at me clearly puzzled. He truly didn't get what I was stewing about. Part of the wonder of Hugo is that his tall, powerful, even menacing presence belies a remarkably uncomplicated, child-like trust and good will.
A soft ticking sound appeared in the room, and I could swear that I heard papa speaking
Out of nowhere his voice popped into my head. "You want to give what meets the need. You want to give what actually constitutes a blessing, and you will not know what that is until you ask what it is by saying, 'Father, fill me with what You would have me be, in spite of what I THINK I want to do, in spite of what I THINK he or she needs.'"
Then I thought, "I want to wake up from the limitation and the suffering that I've experienced my whole life as a result of my faith in the idea of my own independence. (Thinking I KNOW WHAT TO DO...) NOW I want to do things DIFFERENT."
I quickly concluded that it would probably be best just to let the whole line of thought go; I'd never get all this over to Hugo...
I wrote, "Well, Okay!"(Followed by a smiley face)
Hugo took the pad and tore off the top page then wrote on a new sheet, "When you go home, I can help you even if you still don't get around so good."
I took the pad back and wrote, "HUGO! You don't have to give up your time for me... I'll be okay..."
Hugo wrote back with broad strokes, "Kevin. You can be a pain in ass!@!!!!!!" (Underlined three times!)
He went on, "I LOVE you and I WANT to be with you and help you when you need things. Why won't you accept I WANT to do things????"
He underlined this part of the page and tossed the pad back on my lap. Clearly he was irritated with me....
The room was still, even with this energetic conversation flowing between us; so when Hugo threw the pad down on my lap, I read it and at the same time could have sworn that I heard a clock ticking again...
I looked up at Hugo and started to ask him whether he heard anything-- like a clock ticking --but then I didn't speak. I realized he wouldn't hear anything.
My eyes focused in the distance on the words on the wall, and I listened carefully to that sound... I must have looked like I'd spaced out.
Hugo grabbed the pad and wrote quickly:
"WHAT?" And looked at me panicked...
I took the pad and wrote, "You're right, Hugo. I don't know how to let anyone be close to me-- love me. Like it's ok for ME to help you, but I can't let you help me... I see it's something I've got to do different now."
Hugo wrote: "YOU ARE A TURKEY--- sometimes" (Smiley face)
"I love you, Hugo" I mouthed the words looking directly into his eyes. I thought he could read lips quite satisfactorily if the words were familiar to him. Then I took the pad back again.
"You're fucking right! Hugo..." I wrote. "I NEED your help, and I LOVE for you to be near me. All the time! I would be really happy if you would be with me ANY time that you possibly can be. Hugo, I WANT and NEED you in my life."
I signed it "Love, 'The Turkey'" (And I drew a happy face with the words gobble, gobble, gobble scribbled underneath...)
Hugo read my message, smiled, took the pad from me, and threw it on the bedside table. He sat on the bed and held my hand and looked in my eyes. "He is so beautiful," I thought...
I reached over to his head and caressed his face and his ear. The stubble on his cheek was rough and prickly yet his ear and earlobe and the back of his neck were soft and warm. The hair on his head seemed to be longer than I remember. Humm? I thought, "He's letting his hair grow out."
The human body is a wonderful machine for sending and receiving love... truly remarkable... I thought, "Boy, and I almost DESTROYED this wonderful machine."
Much later that night:
I realized it was night, but my room was loaded with little lights all over the place: on the control panel for the bed and on the bedside table and across the room on the wall next to an oxygen valve and around the edges of the door into the hall. "I can't sleep with all of these fucking lights," I thought to myself...
But I just lay there.
It WAS peaceful, in spite of the distracting lights in the room, and my mind kept returning to the conversation I'd had earlier with Hugo before supper.
"I'd never noticed how unconsciously I'd been rejecting attention and love...Talk about blocking! Wow. No wonder I'd been so unhappy before... before my 'disappearance.'"
"Hugo sure had my number, and he couldn't have picked that up in Psych 101 either. This man was just a real person like I've never known a real person before. Boy, have I been lucky to find this man in my life..," I thought.
The door squeaked a tiny bit.
I opened my eyes to see who was there.
Hugo poked his head around the door and was fully illuminated by the light from the hall. I lifted my arm and motioned for him to come on in...
He came in and the door squeaked shut, and he just stood there for a moment in the very dim light in the room. I waved my arm again, asking him to come over to the bed.
He came over and sat down in a very low arm chair beside the bed. The hospital bed was high, and the chair seemed especially low; so Hugo could just see over the top of the mattress. He leaned into the bed and put his chin on the mattress allowing his head to lean over onto my hand. I reached out and stroked his hair slowly. He closed his eyes and allowed me to rub him softly. We didn't attempt to turn on any lights or "talk", just be there together, touching and me rubbing his head.
It seemed like almost immediately he fell asleep. I couldn't do anything to make him more comfortable. It must have been awkward for him with his body in the chair and his upper torso leaning on the bed with his head cradled in my arm. I leaned down and kissed the side of his forehead, and then I kissed his eyes.
He roused somewhat and climbed up onto the hospital bed with me. I lifted the sheet and blanket and let him snuggle under it with me. He lay on his side with one arm under my shoulders now, and one knee pulled up and on top of my leg. His head fell down to my chest just under my chin. His breathing was regular, and he felt warm and wonderful.
Together we lay there. The lights didn't seem so intrusive any more, and my mind stopped generating thoughts-- remarkable. I was conscious of everything around me but with no thoughts!
Hugo's breathing slowed, and I realized that he was sleeping. I fell into a peaceful sleep there next to him...