CHAPTER II
Time continued to drag by, one long, dreary day following another. Many hours were spent merely watching the second hand moving around the face of the clock. What else was there to do? Time meant nothing as far as Dave was concerned. The only thing he lived for was the time when he could be up on crutches so he could see Carol.
One morning Mrs. Lucas came into his room with a big smile. "Surprise for you today, Dave." He was "Dave" to everyone now.
"Carol! I get to see Carol!" he exclaimed excitedly. The eagerness revealed in his expression and voice caused the nurse's smile to fade.
"I'm sorry, Dave, to get your hopes all up about Carol, but that's not my surprise." Looking over her shoulder, she called, "Hey, James, this way, right here." Turning back to the patient she said, "Look, Dave, a wheel chair. We're going to get you out of that bed today. Isn't that wonderful?"
The orderly pushed the chair to Dave's bedside. Instead of Dave's face lighting up with a big grin as was expected, the same sad and sullen look was seen.
"Hi, Dave," the orderly greeted. "This ought to make your spirits soar, to be able to get out of bed after all this time."
"It's better than staying in bed, James, but nothing can make my spirits soar until I can see my wife and know she's all right."
"I understand how you feel, Sir. Here now, help yourself all you can and we'll have you up and in this chair before you know it. Easy there, boy. Not too much weight on that bad leg. Watch it! Here, put your arm around my shoulder and let me bear your weight. Mrs. Lucas can help steady you. There now! How's that?"
"I feel weak and shaky."
"Relax a few minutes, Dave; then I'll push you out into the hall."
"Can't you wheel me downstairs to see Carol? We can ride the elevator." Dave's pleading voice caused James to look helplessly at Mrs. Lucas.
"We will have to have orders from Dr. Shepherd before we can do that," Mrs. Lucas came to James' rescue. "It shouldn't be too much longer, Dave, the way you're improving." She patted Dave on the shoulder. "This way, James. Wheel him out into the sun parlor where he can enjoy the sun and scenery."
"Out we go," replied James cheerfully.
Dave squinted his eyes as he was wheeled into the bright sunlight. It took several minutes for him to become accustomed to its brilliance, after which he began to survey his surroundings. To his left, he saw another wheel chair occupied by a young man whom Dave judged to be about his own age. A young lady sat in a chair beside him holding his hand and smiling sweetly at him. Dave quickly looked away. The anguish of his heart revealed in his face, caused James to push him to a remote corner of the sun parlor.
"There, you have a perfect view of the river from here. Look at that swift current! The old river is really churning may, isn't it?"
Dave nodded but he really wasn't interested. His mind was completely obsessed with one thing, thoughts of the one he loved. Would the day ever come when he would be able to see her again? In his imagination he could see himself entering her room and watching her sweet face light up with a lovely radiance as she caught sight of him. He meditated dreamily of the wonderful times they would have together once they were both well again.
The laughter of the young couple sitting on the opposite side of the sun parlor roused him from his reverie. Once again he glanced in their direction. Their devotion to one another and their obvious pleasure at being together sent a sharp pang to Dave's heart.
"Life is unfair," he thought. "Why should such happiness be granted to some, while others are allowed to be crushed with troubles too great to be borne?" He covered his face with his hands and in spite of all attempts at self-control, the tears oozed from his eyes, through his fingers, and dropped onto his hospital robe. He sat quietly until he could regain his composure and then said in a husky voice, “James, take me back to my room."
"Why, Dave, you have been out here only a short while. Does something hurt you?" .
"Very much so," he replied as the couple's merry voices sounded in his ears.
''I'm so sorry. Is it your legs? Maybe I can help relieve you. Here, I'll stretch this one out straight a few minutes." James caught hold of one leg and started to move it.
"It's not my legs, James, it's my heart. Will you please take me back to my room?"
"Your heart?" James was becoming excited. "I'll get a doctor right away."
"Never mind. A doctor couldn't help my heart condition. Now, for the third time, James, I'm asking you to return me to my room."
The look of anguish on Dave's face and the quiver in his voice made it clear to James what Dave meant, so he meekly submitted to his request and wheeled him back to his room. Back in bed, Dave turned his face toward the wall. A deep despondency engulfed him.
He heard his door open and realized someone had entered his room, but he didn't bother to turn his head. He felt a gentle hand on his shoulder; still he made no move.
"How are you today, Son?" He recognized the voice of his mother-in-law.
"Awful," was his only comment.
"Can I do anything for you, Dave?"
"Nothing," he grunted.
A silence ensued as Mrs. Blake patted his shoulder and then reached over and kissed his cheek. This softened Dave's heart, causing him to turn and look at her. Her eyes brimmed with tears, and she looked pale and worn as if she had been without sleep for a long time.
"Mrs. Blake--uh--Mom," he ventured, "what do you know about Carol? How is she?"
Mrs. Blake's voice trembled noticeably as she answered, "Carol is resting, Son. She doesn't appear to be suffering. Try not to worry, Dave. Just try to get well."
Again, Dave turned his face toward the wall. There was no use trying to get any more information about Carol. He could sense that Mrs. Blake did not want to discuss Carol's condition.
Again, there was silence. He wished she would leave. His mother-in-law seemed to sense his feelings and once again kissed him on the cheek as she said softly, "I love you, Dave. Dad and I will be checking on you again. Take care of yourself. "
As she left the room, Dave pulled the sheet over his head and lay motionless with his painful thoughts.
"Give me a good, strong sedative," he requested that night, "If I can only sleep, I won't be tormented with thoughts," he said to himself.
"Do you not sleep well with the sedative we give you, Dave?" the nurse inquired.
"I need something stronger."
"Let me check your chart. I'm sure your doctor wants you to get plenty of rest." She left and was soon back with the requested sleeping tablet.
"Here, swallow this and we shouldn't hear any more from you until breakfast time in the morning."
"I hope you're right, Miss," he answered as he took the tablet offered him.
"Good night, Dave. Here, let me flip off your light for you. Sweet dreams," she added as she slipped from his room.
Dave lay back on his pillow and pulled the top sheet up around his neck. He was tired and soon began to feel drowsy, very drowsy and wonderfully relaxed. The next thing he knew someone was shaking him.
“Wake up, Sleepy Head, Are you going to sleep all day? Here's your breakfast."
"Huh! Breakfast? You've got to be kidding, What time is it?" Dave yawned and rubbed his eyes.
"It's seven-thirty, Sir."
"Wow! I can't believe it. Last night was the first good night's rest I've had since I've been here." Though he felt refreshed in body, still there was that mental anguish, that crushing weight on his heart. He wondered how he could endure the agony through another day.
"How long before I'll be on crutches?" he asked Dr. Shepherd as he made his morning rounds.
"Now wait a minute, Son. Let's take one thing at a time. You have been up in a wheelchair only once and already you're asking about crutches. It will take awhile yet."
"Will you make me a promise, Doc?"
"And what's that, my boy?"
"Promise me that I can go see Carol
as soon as I'm up on crutches."
Dave held his breath awaiting the answer. It was inevitable that the doctor would have to let him go sooner or later. It appeared to Dave that he was deliberately postponing his and Carol's meeting, but he had his mind made up that he was going to see Carol when he could manage his crutches whether Dr. Shepherd let him or not.
Taking a deep breath, Dr. Shepherd answered solemnly, "Sure, Dave, you can see her when you're up on crutches. You wouldn't want to go down in a wheel chair, now would you?"
"Doc, I don't care if I go on a stretcher. I want to see Carol. I can't understand why you don't want me to go."
"Why, Son, you haven't been able to go. You know that. Yesterday was the first day you have been out of bed. Now, let's wait just a few more days and I'll have you up on crutches and you can go see your wife."
"Doc, do you mean it?" Dave was wild with ecstasy as he grabbed Dr. Shepherd's hand and pumped it up and down. The old doctor was visibly shaken. Seemingly, he could not speak another word so he patted Dave's arm and turned and left the room.
Dave seemed like a different person as he eagerly awaited the time when he could be up on crutches. He joked with the hospital personnel and sang silly little ditties as he was wheeled around in his chair. His appetite improved and the color returned to his cheeks.
"I'm amazed at the change in you, Dave," Doctor Shepherd told him one morning; however, Dave noticed the doctor's smile seemed forced. But he would allow nothing to mar his hopes of brighter days.
After prolonging the crutches as long as possible, they were at last brought in. Dave was so excited he could hardly contain himself.
"Remember your promise, Doc?" he greeted Dr. Shepherd as he entered his room. "See, I'm up on crutches." He was acting like a child with a new toy.
"Yes, Son, I remember. Tomorrow you may go to your wife's room. I will personally accompany you downstairs at ten o'clock. You get the feel of these things today. O. K.?"
"O. K., Doc, I will. You'll be surprised how well I will be able to manipulate these things by tomorrow. And thank you so much, Doc. You have no idea how much this means to me. "
The hand that Dr. Shepherd gently laid on Dave's shoulder trembled. "Son, don't build your hopes up too high. You see, your wife probably will not know you."
"What do you mean?" Dave was alarmed. "Surely she'll know me!"
"We'll see," he answered sadly and turned and left the room. Had Dave imagined he saw tears in the kindly doctors eyes? He pushed the thought from his mind. He refused to allow anything to dim his hopes of the reunion with Carol. Dr. Shepherd had to be mistaken in thinking she might not know him. Why, with such mutual love between them, nothing could keep her from recognizing him, he tried to reassure himself.
Steadying himself on his crutches, he slowly made his way out into the halL "Good morning," he greeted the first person he met which happened to be one of the aides.
"Why, Dave, how wonderful to see you up on crutches," she exclaimed.
"More wonderful than that, is the fact I will get to see Carol tomorrow," he announced cheerfully.
"Oh-h, the doctor's going to let you see her?"
"Yes, at last. Well, I'll see you later, Miss Tucker." He carefully made his way down the hall and into the sun parlor. The crutches hurt his bad arm but he would never let the doctor know it. He was determined to learn to use the things enough to suit Dr. Shepherd. He felt weak and his legs were hurting so he found a chair and sat down.
"This is worse than I thought," he mumbled to himself. “I thought I could simply get up and take off, but these are about the most uncomfortable things I've ever seen." He looked out at the river which was much calmer today than usual. A hand touched him on the shoulder.
"How are you making it, Dave?" It was James. "I've been looking everywhere for you. You shouldn't try to get around by yourself. Why, if you'd fallen, you would have undone a lot of the good that's been done for you."
"I realize it now, James. I didn't know how hard crutches could be to manipulate with a broken leg and a bad arm. How about helping me? I've got to get used to these things some way today as I'm going to see Carol tomorrow."
A sad look appeared on James' countenance as he steadied Dave on his crutches. "Easy, boy. Just take it slow and easy and walk up to the nurses' station. By then, I think you'll be ready to rest."
With much effort and patience, Dave got through the day walking every hour up and down the hall on his crutches. His limbs ached, but his heart was light as he thought of what would be tomorrow.
Needless to say, there was little sleep for Dave that night. He lay wide awake looking out the window at the stars and counting off the minutes that seemed to drag by at a monotonously slow rate.
"Carol," he whispered her name lovingly. Just a few more hours, and we will be together again."
He wondered how badly she was hurt and why Dr. Shepherd had told him she would not know him. Could it be possible ... ? He pushed the thought from his mind.
"She's got to know me. Oh, Carol, my darling, I'll die if you don't."
The moon now shining through his window seemed unusually bright. Dave blinked his sleepless eyes and turned his head slightly. A siren broke the stillness of the night. Soon, he heard an ambulance turning into the hospital driveway.
"Another wreck," thought Dave. He wondered about the people involved and how badly they were hurt. The clock on the bank down the street struck two a.m.
"Eight more hours," Dave thought. It seemed like an eternity. Toward morning he dozed fitfully.
"How did you sleep, Sir?" the aide asked as she brought his breakfast tray.
"I didn't sleep much," he answered.
"Too bad. You should have taken a sedative to induce sleep. "
Dave smiled warmly. "I'm about to get the best sedative that I could possibly get," he assured her.
"Really?"
"Yes, today I'm getting to visit my wife for the first time since we were admitted to the hospital."
"Oh, I'm so sorry. Wh ... I mean, uh, that's good. Good luck, Sir," she stammered and backed from his room.
"What's the matter with her?" Dave murmured, but he was too excited to think clearly. "Just two more hours," he said as he looked at his watch, "two more long, endless hours."
At nine forty-five, Dr. Shepherd and Mrs. Lucas entered his room. Dave was up on his crutches, impatient to be going. The doctor paced nervously back and forth across the room commenting on little, insignificant things and wiping his forehead with a handkerchief.
"Dave, my boy," he turned and faced him, "I must tell you something. I cannot let you see your wife until you know." He laid a trembling arm across Dave's shoulders. These things are hard on us doctors, too, Son. We have feelings for our patients and try to spare them all the hurt we can. The hospital staff has been very cooperative, but it has not been easy keeping your wife's true condition from you. We felt it very necessary, if you were to get well, for you not to know the worst until you absolutely had to."
"What is it, Doc? Don't keep anything from me. I want to know the worst." The loss of sleep and the anxiety about seeing his wife caused Dave to look haggard.
"Dave, your wife is in a coma. She has never regained consciousness since she was admitted. You see, she has severe brain damage. We have a very faint hope that when she hears your voice .... " His voice trailed off. Dave knew Dr. Shepherd did not want to build up his hope in vain.
"Oh-h," Dave groaned and staggered as if he would fall.
"Steady there, Son. Here take a whiff of this." Dr. Shepherd offered the smelling salts as he held onto Dave's arm. "Easy, fellow. Here, sit in this chair a few moments."
''I'm all right, Doc." Dave took a firmer grip on his crutches. His underarms were sore and his right arm ached but he refused the chair the doctor offered.
"It's just that it's so hard to believe that Carol won't know me," he continued. "Come on, let's go. I'm ready." He took
an unsteady step forward. He was trembling; tears blinded his eyes, but he kept going. Dr. Shepherd walked on one side of him and Mrs. Lucas on the other. Silently, they made their way down the hall and pushed the button on the elevator. Dave stumbled as they stepped inside.
"Steady, Son," the doctor cautioned as he pushed the button for the second floor.
As the elevator door slowly opened on second floor, Dave mustered up all his strength and stepped out along with the doctor and nurse. His one useful leg felt as if it would buckle under him, but he was determined to make it.
"This way, Dave. Take it easy now. Watch it, Son, you almost fell. Do you need assistance?"
"I'm fine, Doctor, just show me which room."
An orderly, two nurses, and some aides were watching the strange procession as they passed the nurses' station.
"Just a few more steps and we'll be there, Dave. Can you make it?"
Dave did not answer, but kept pushing forward step by step. The doctor stopped at Room 213 and pushed open the door.
"Here we are."
Mrs. Lucas held the smelling salts under Dave's nose for a second as they entered the room. His father-in-law met him at the door, taking hold of his arm to steady him. Three painful steps more, and he stood at the foot of her bed.
Dave clutched at his heart as if he would faint when he saw her. Was this ghastly figure before him actually his beloved wife? She looked like a corpse as she lay motionless between the white sheets. That beautiful red hair that he had admired so much had lost its luster and beauty and was now lifeless and dull. Her once rosy cheeks were pale and hollow-looking. The deep blue eyes which Dave had thrilled to look into were sunken back into their sockets and were staring unseeing into space. Her frame was a mere skeleton and Dave would not have recognized her except under these tragic conditions. An intravenous bottle hung over her bed and a needle was stuck into her bony arm feeding the fluid into her veins and helping to sustain her slender thread of life.
Dave bent over her and with a broken-hearted moan he cried, "Carol, this is Dave." Did he imagine he saw a flicker of the eyelid?
"Say it again," Dr. Shepherd urged.
"Carol, my precious darling, this is Dave. Do you hear me, Carol'?" But there was no response at all.
"Oh, Doc, I can't stand it," Dave cried pitifully as he collapsed in Dr. Shepherd's arms.
"Get a stretcher, quickly," the doctor ordered. "I was afraid of this. There's a limit to what a human can stand."
After Dr. Shepherd had worked with him a few minutes, Dave regained consciousness and was taken back to his room and put to bed. His frame shook with sobs and he called his wife's name over and over. "How can I stand it?" he cried. "This is worse than death."
"Try to pull yourself together, Boy," Dr. Shepherd spoke kindly. "This will give you a back set if you don't brace up.”
Dave turned and glared at him. Through scalding tears, he answered, "Somehow I don't care, Doctor. I just do not caare what happens to me now. Let me die if you want. I have nothing whatsoever to live for."
Knowing there was nothing more he could do, Dr. Shepherd left the room followed by the faithful Mrs. Lucas.
In spite of the terrible emotional upset, the preceding weeks in which Dave had lived with such aspiration had helped to bring healing to him and soon he was discharged from the hospital. Though he was still on crutches, he had learned to handle them quite well and each day found him sitting beside his wife's bed holding her cold limp hand in his. There had been no improvement whatsoever in her condition. In fact, it appeared that she was steadily growing worse, but Dave refused to accept this fact. She was all he had in the world and he loved her dearly; therefore, he felt she had to get well.
One of the nurses who took care of Carol was quite different from the others. She was a "plain Jane" to Dave but she was a likable person. Even though she was somewhat peculiar, she was wonderful with Carol.
"I pray for your wife every day," she told him one day. “You see God loves you, and He is interested in your case. He has great power, even power to heal if it is according to His divine will. Do you believe this, Mr. Maddox'?"
"I guess so," Dave mumbled and added, "Don't call me Mr. Maddox any longer. You make me feel old, and after all, I'm only twenty-one. Call me by my first name, Dave. Everybody else does."
"Sure, Dave," she smiled. "How old is your wife?"
"She's twenty-one, too. I am four months older than she is. "
"I'm twenty-one, also, Mr. Maddox--I mean Dave." Becoming more serious and changing the subject, she asked, "Are you a Christian?"
"Huh? A Christian? Yes, I guess I am. My mother had me christened when I was a baby so I guess that makes me a Christian. "
"There's more to being a Christian, Dave, than being christened," she chided gently.
"Maybe so," he answered as he stood up. Her talk on religion made him uneasy. "Well, I'll go now and get a few winks of sleep. I'll see you tomorrow, Miss Taylor."
"So long, Dave."
After going outside the door, he turned and stuck his head back inside. "If you should need me any time, I have a room right across the street. They have my telephone number at the office."
"We'll notify you if we need you, Dave. Try not to worry. Get some rest."
With great effort Dave made his way across the street and back to his room.
"Is that you, Mr. Dave?" He recognized the voice of the housekeeper.
"Yes, Amy, it's me."
"There was a man here to see you about an hour ago. Said he was from the insurance company. He didn't want to bother you at the hospital but said he'd be back later."
"Thanks, Amy. When he comes back, send him in. Don't know what we would have done if we had not been so well insured. No telling how long I'll be laid up."
"No, Sir, it ain'ta bitta tellin'," she answered as she walked away.
Dave lay across his bed, his thoughts in turmoil. Would Carol ever get any better? It seemed she was even worse today than she had been yesterday. Miss Taylor had talked about God's power and His will. Just what did she mean? Why would it not be God's will for him and Carol to live happily together? If God had power to heal, why did He let her lie there in that condition? How could he understand a God that would allow such grief and heartache. Miss Taylor said she prayed for Carol every day. Was God taking notice of her prayers? Could God do what the doctors could not do?
The next morning found him by her bedside earlier than usual. He tried to detect any sign of change, but it seemed her condition was even worse than the day before. Perhaps Miss Taylor's prayers were not going to be answered after all.
"Good morning, Dave. You're out early today," the early morning nurse greeted him.
"Yes, I thought--uh--I had hoped--uh--that maybe... "
"What had you hoped, Dave?"
"That she would be better," he finished weakly.
"I see. Yes, we hope day by day. 'As long as there's life; there's hope,' and that's true isn't it?"
"I guess so, Mrs. Hopkins. What time will the doctor be in today?"
"Same as usual. Dr. Dennely will be by in about thirty minutes and Dr. Shepherd checks her at about eleven o'clock. Why did you ask, Dave? You're here every day when they come in."
“I don't know," Dave replied blankly. "Doctors sometimes change their schedules and I want to be here to talk to both of them."
Later as Dr. Dennely placed the stethoscope to her chest, he shook his head.
"What's the matter, Doc?"
"I hate to tell you, Dave, but I believe she has grown worse since yesterday." He laid a hand on Dave's shoulder. “How long has it been now, Dave?"
"A month and twenty-one days."
"I fear she will not hold on much longer. You need to prepare yourself, Dave."
"Doc, she's got to make it. We were just married the very day of the accident and were on our way to the mountains to spend our honeymoon."
"Yes,
I know."
"She's all I've got, Doc. Can't you do something more than you're doing? Isn't there another drug or some kind of therapy you can use? There must be something else you can do, Doc. Don't let her die. I can't live without her." Dave's piteous pleas noticeably affected the doctor.
"We are doing everything humanly possible, Dave. This case is beyond our capabilities. Only a higher power could help her now."
"You mean God?"
"Yes, God. He is your only hope. In fact, I don't know if God can help her now, but we have done all we can." With a compassionate look, he bade Dave good-bye.
Dave dropped onto a chair and put his head in his hands. If God could do something, why didn't He do it? Why did He let her lie there steadily growing worse with each passing day?
"My poor, dear Carol," he whispered. "Please get well. I love you and need you so. I can't live without you."