'Taking it With You' by Daniel Prokop

Chapter 8

“Denial ain't just a river in Egypt.” ~ Mark Twain

Immersed in a thick soupy fog, Faith feels as if she is about to drown. She is so exhausted that she can barely muster the strength to keep swimming. The fog thins as it swirls around her, and in a desperate bid to reach the surface Faith drains the last of her energy reserves. Her kicks become frantic as her arms thrash wildly and, just for the merest moment, she bursts above the fog.

In the hospital bed where she remains motionless her eyes blink open but they refuse to register any of the details of the intensive care ward that she is resting in. Too shattered to keep moving, Faith falls back into the fog. The brief eye flicker is enough to create great excitement in the hungry, white-coated vultures that perch around her.

A specialist in brain neurology and self-importance, Dr. Kleinstein immediately shines his pencil torch into the woman’s eyes. His colleague and sycophant, Dr. Todd, almost drops the patient’s chart that he has been puzzling over.

Faith is a fighter. She somehow rallies again, making painfully slow but steady headway until the fog is suddenly blasted away. It becomes painfully bright so she swiftly dives back into the safety of the welcoming depths of darkness.

“I agree with you, Doctor. This EEG is very strange.” Dr. Kleinstein acknowledges the expected consensus with the briefest nod of his head. Disappointed by the lack of response by the comatose body, he puts his torch away and extends his hand and takes another look at the quickly proffered chart. “Those idiots downstairs probably made a mistake or gave us the wrong chart. Have them run it again and check the CAT scan too. This can’t be right.”

A day later, Faith finally makes it through the fog long enough to briefly gain consciousness. Her face is bandaged and badly bruised.

Faith’s reputation as a very difficult patient has preceded her though it needn’t have bothered. Napoleon Brothers insisted that all senior personnel have an annual physical. As a consequence of this policy, Faith had terrorized this hospital once every year for ten years.

They used a reverse lottery system to determine who saw her. All the physicians’ names were put in a hat. One by one the names were pulled out, the last name left in the hat was the ‘winner.’ Doctors were not allowed to pull sickies just to get out of it. Somehow Faith had missed last year’s physical and, funnily enough, no one at the hospital had rung her to reschedule.

As soon as she is able to speak the doctors pummel her with questions. She doesn’t answer them very well as she finds it incredibly difficult to concentrate. Everything is still a bit blurry too and she is more irritable than normal.

 “Jesus! Are you two deaf? I told you. I was exhausted. I’d had a drink that didn’t agree with me. I don’t remember anything else. It was an unfortunate accident. Like your birth.”

Dr. Kleinstein is highly offended; he is not used to being talked to the way he deserved to be talked to. In a slightly higher voice than he intends, he responds. “Well… Ms. McCormack, you may be correct. However, we have to be absolutely sure… as your…” 

Slowly, but not patiently, Faith interjects. “It was an accident.”

Dr. Todd comes to the defense of his colleague. He accidentally blurts out, “Your brain scan suggests differently. We need to do a brain biopsy.”

The look she gives the trembling Dr. Todd could cook a roast. Then all the color drains from Faith's face making the purple bruises blacken. The possibility that it was not just a car accident hits her like a truck. The shaking hands, the clumsiness? Noooo. It was just exhaustion? Wasn’t it? A brain biopsy? Shit!

Apparently these two doctors were the best neurosurgeons in the best private hospital in the Midwest. But a brain biopsy? Even Faith knew that a brain biopsy was a serious operation. A serious operation just to get more data was very… serious.

They would not have dared make the biopsy call frivolously. People with enough money to buy the hospital or sue it into bankruptcy were treated with kid gloves and charged for silk gloves.

 The brain biopsy could well be just to cover their asses but something about the way the two had looked at each other suggested differently. Could there be something seriously wrong? No way. F*^%!