Part III--Chapter 14
Out of the frying pan, into the fire. But there are some welcome surprises in store, too...
So, about four days into my recovery, my body turned into a furnace.
I was still too weak to ring the little red button to call the nurse, so they didn't discover it until the night nurse came in to check on me late that night and found me shivering and sweating like crazy. My bed was soaked. And I felt like I was freezing but my temperature was "Get the body bag ready" high.
So the nurse went flying out of there to grab the first doctor she could lay hands on. Which was a young woman who ran in and threw the covers off me, and started checking me over from head to toe.
I passed out when she started messing around with my belly. This knife sharp pain shot straight through me and then, blackness. Total. Until I woke up all groggy and after surgery the next day sometime.
You wouldn't actually call it waking up, though, if you'd been there. I was conscious, but just barely.
And I heard this male voice saying, "...tiny nick in the rear wall. The seepage caused the infection. And I'm not going to sugar coat this. Infections of this kind can be particularly difficult to treat. Especially when they go undetected for long periods of time."
"He was in surgery for hours that day," Cat said. "They even sent for that specialist from the university hospital! And everybody missed it?"
"The location and size of the wound made it extremely difficult to detect," another male voice said. "We discovered and repaired the damage we saw, and examined him thoroughly to make sure we hadn't missed anything. But it was like a papercut. And with all the debris..."
"The 'Shit happens' defense in' gonna fly with us," Mike said. "You know that, right?"
And then Aisha said, "All I wanna know is is 'e gon' wake back up this time? Cause what I'm seein'..."
Her voice sort of broke.
And the first guy said, "It will be a difficult recovery, as I've said. But he's a very courageous young man. He's not going to give up without a fight."
"Don't look like he fightin' all that hard right now," she said.
She was right. I didn't have a lot of fight left. Body and soul had just about quit on me. In fact, I found out later that Hugh flew some big deal doctor over here from Germany to see what he could do. And when the big doc told him what he thought my chances were, he called Nick and my lawyers to talk about what all they would need to do when I died. Not "if," but "when." The diagnosis was that grim.
I don't know what happened for a few days after that last surgery, though. Alls I did was drift in and out of the fog. I knew some voices, and I knew who was touching me, usually. The girls, anyway. All the random nurses, not so much.
It's funny how you can actually feel love. And when there isn't any. The nurses were sweet, but their hands didn't say the same things that the girls' hands said to me. The nurses were working. The girls were working with me, through their hands. Asking my body what was up. Where they were needed. How to help me heal.
And begging me to stay. Always, beneath every touch, they were saying, "Don't leave me." I felt it. And fought for them. Even when I wasn't sure I had an ounce of energy left, I fought for them. Because their hands begged me to.
They tell me I laid on my side almost in fetal position for days, breathing really fast, trying to stay cool like puppies do. Even after they'd brought my temperature down, I felt like a volcano, you know? Like there was something deep down in my gut still threatening to send that temperature back up any second.
For the rest of my life, everyone who saw me at that time would say how scared they were, watching me breathe like that. "Like you were running a marathon or something," is how Joie put it. And I was, in a way. Running, I mean. From death.
And then one day, someone sort of tickled the corner of my mouth. It's like that trick you do with babies when they're brand new to get them to open up so they can nurse. And when my mouth opened a little, they poked this little piece of dough into my mouth. Or it felt like dough.
It was Wyatt, of course. She had rolled a little ball of date paste into some fufu—that stuff some Africans scoop up food with. It's reminds me of mashed potatoes, only it's stiffer and sort of gooey. And as it melted away, I tasted the sweet stuff in the middle.
She had come up with a whole game plan, based on how doughy things stick to your innards better. Remember the stuff that she made at the ranch? The goo she invented to feed those old people?
There you go. She made a fresh batch of that and some fufu every day. And then she'd dip little balls of fufu into two little Tupperware dishes of goop and feed them to me 'til I had finished both bowls.
Sometimes it was sweet stuff, sometimes it was veggies or meat. And at first she dipped the fufu in it, but later, as I got stronger, she would ball things up inside the fufu dough. You're not supposed to chew fufu, but I did, to get to the little bits inside.
And so for about two weeks, she came in at least twice a day to feed me like that. And the room would be real quiet. I think the girls left. It felt like we were alone, anyway.
Because she talked to me real soft and low and sincere. Little baby words, at first. Just "Open," and "Good" and "More?"
There was this little ritual she followed almost every time. The teacher in her. Giving me something I could depend on. Something familiar to make the world feel safer.
First, she smoothed my hair right after she tickled my cheek to get me to open my mouth. And after every bite, she put her hand on my cheek while I chewed, as if she was trying to lend me some of her energy, to make sure I got it down. And then when I'd finished both bowls, she would smooth my hair again, and say, "All gone! Good!"
But I was still too weak to even look at her at first. My lashes fluttered, but everything was all blurry and it made me dizzy if I actually opened my eyes. I felt like I'd had a few too many, you know? How the room spins, just before you hurl? Mostly it was the drugs. They shot me up with some stuff so strong that even a junkie wouldn't probably like it.
But mostly, it was just that my body wasn't ready for me to be fully conscious yet. My guts were all torn up. So my brain wasn't available for extracurricular activities like trying to speak to the woman I loved. And who obviously still loved me. I got that message loud and clear. Even if she didn't want me to.
But I had to focus on myself for once. I got that message loud and clear, too, the day I opened my eyes for a coupla seconds and realized that the bony thing I was looking at was what was left of my arm. Scared the hell out of me. I felt deformed.
But the solid food started to give me a lot more strength. So one morning I finally forced my lids to open a little bit. And then all the way, because I could actually see. No fog. No dizziness. Only, when my eyes finally focused, Wyatt's face made me cry.
She looked like she belonged in the hospital. She'd lost a lot of weight. Her clothes were all loose on her. And she was real pale and sort of hollow in the cheeks.
But what really got to me was her eyes. They had always drooped down at the corners. All soulful and sad. But they were almost melting down off her face from being worried for so long.
Even so, it was that soul connection I'd been yearning for. And I knew I was coming back for good then. Because I couldn't let her suffer any longer. I couldn't let anyone I loved suffer any longer. I felt guilty, to be honest, about the people who were suffering because of me.
I tried to say something, but it didn't come out. I couldn't get enough air or something, to make a sound.
So she put her hand on my cheek and said, "Don't cry." And the love in her voice trickled down into my wounded parts like some kind of magic oil. It was amazing. My stomach quit aching. My whole body relaxed.
I even started breathing slower. And all three girls appeared right behind Wyatt looking all puzzled. Aisha actually looked sort of mad. Like she thought Wyatt was witching me or something.
So I forced my right hand to slide up and rest on the hand she was still holding on my face. And that made her smile a little wider.
But then Aisha said, "That's enough for today," in this sort of hard voice.
And Wyatt didn't even flinch. She pressed her hand against my face a little harder and then took my hand in both of hers and said, "Look at those beautiful eyes..."
And my eyes wouldn't let go of her. Even when Aisha came and stood right next to her looking all impatient.
And said, "She got you lookin' like yourself, I'll give you that."
Wyatt just kept smiling at me. And she said, "I'll be back later. I have some things to attend to."
I "released" her, with my eyes. I mean, I relaxed, you know? Like I was saying, "Okay, bye."
So she started putting her little bowls into a big straw bag, all businesslike. And as I was watching her, I remembered something. Something important. Something that had been pushed 'way down in my mind while my body was trying to fix itself.
It was a little mind movie of her running off with my kids that day, after the shooting started. I could feel how relieved I'd been, even when I thought I was never going to see them again, because I knew they were safe and that she would keep them safe.
This was the woman who had hung from a rope to save that little baby girl back at the ranch. So I knew that she would keep my kids out of harm's way, too. And I also knew she was the only one who would tell me the whole truth about them, now that I was able to think about something besides how sick I was.
I raised my arm a few inches off the bed and said, "Wait."
The sound startled myself and everyone in the room. Didn't have the right emotion behind it. It was just a loud noise I'd blurted out. So for a minute, nobody was sure what I'd actually said.
But Wyatt turned and then came over. And I put the hand I'd raised on her arm, and croaked out, "Babies." That sounded pretty freaky, too. But she smiled. And then she looked at the girls.
She was probably wondering how much they wanted her to tell me. It was like at the ranch, when she let Tia be the boss. Or pretended to. Like she knew losing a small battle might give her an advantage in a bigger one.
So she read their eyes. And then she looked down and smiled and said, "They're safe." But then her eyes got deeper and she said, "They miss you. They need you," and put her hand on my hand when she added, "We all need you."
She said that last part in a voice that told me everything everyone else was holding back. Because she knew it would stiffen my spine if I felt like there were things that needed doing. Things only I could do.
And then she glanced at Aisha and said, "I'll let him get some rest now," but she had one more little message for me. It made her eyes smile.
"I'm making meat loaf," she said. "And mashed potatoes. No more goop. Okay?"
I sort of laughed, or what passed for laughing at the time. And she breezed on out of there to get busy with that meal she'd promised me.
It took the girls a few seconds to regroup. I didn't know what all they'd been hiding from me. But I did know that if they'd hidden them from me, it was because they knew how sick I was. So I wasn't mad at them.
I smiled at Aisha, too. A grateful smile.
And she sat on the bed then, and said, "I know you happy she come. And I'll forgive 'er for your sake, a lil bit. But I ain't never gon' trust her again, after she turned her back on you that night. May as well be honest."
I couldn't argue, but I did frown. And she just smiled and said, "Yeah, gon' get good and mad. Makes the color come into your face."
And then after a little pause, she said, "Ain't nobody gon' bother them children. Ain't nobody gon' let 'em. You don't have to worry about that. You just worry 'bout your own self for once."
And to make sure I knew that was the last word on the subject, she hopped up and started plumping up my pillows. And the other two started taking away flowers and bringing in more flowers.
My room was like a gift shop by then. There were flowers, fruit baskets, every kind of stuffed animal you could think of all over the night stand and tables and window sills. They were giving them to other patients, to make room.
In fact, the nurses from the children's wing had sent us a big old poster board thank you note signed by all the little guys over there. There were pictures of grinning, cue ball headed kids holding their new toys. I loved that. I mean, if I couldn't see my own kids yet, happy little cue ball heads would do.
They made me grateful, too, you know? That what I had would go away. But that also made me sad, of course. Because even the ones who beat their cancer would have to keep worrying about it coming back all the time. And all I could give them was a buncha lame stuffed animals to take their minds off it for a minute.
I got a surprise that took my mind off my troubles for 'way longer than that, a little while later. Cat was just done giving me a serious sponge bath when Big Man just sort of materialized in the doorway. My eyes lighting up made her turn to find out what I was looking at. And then the other two saw him and started laughing because he looked almost like he was afraid to step inside the room all the way.
And he said, "Don't cuss me out. I been here in spirit but the body was weak, son. I just couldn't do it."
"Wouldn'a let your big ass in here anyway," Mike said, heading over is way with the other two so he could scoop them all up like always.
Once they'd had their big bear hug, he came and stood by the bed, looking down at me with worried eyes.
"Called every day, watched you on my cell sometimes," he said. "But I just couldn't see you struggle like that. Not right in front of me."
He looked sharp as always. Standing there with those big hands crossed in front of him like he was going to preach a sermon or something.
And then he leaned down and gave me this really gentle hug. And said, "How do you expect me to run a damned casino while I'm worryin' about you, son?"
I had to smile. So he could be Big Man again and stop worrying about my little puny ass.
Aisha said, "He don't smile at me like that." Wasn't true. But she also knew Big Man needed to think it was.
"Cause you hover over 'im night'n' day," Mike said. "Boy has enough trouble breathin' without you all up in his face all the time."
"Don't make me act up up in here," Aisha warned her.
"Okay, both of you hush," Big Man said. With a chuckle in it. He was definitely home now. Keeping the peace. He went and grabbed a chair and hauled it over next to the bed like he was taking over hospital security now. Or my security, at least.
But then he leaned over and put a hand on my chest, and said, "Would'na gone down like that if I'd been there, Lil Daddy."
And I called up every ounce of spare energy I could find and croaked out, "Woulda been you layin' here, dumb ass."
And boy, the girls damned near fell over when I said a whole sentence. Mike dropped the little plastic pitcher thing she'd just picked up off the night stand and water went all over the floor.
"Oh, you can talk to him, right?" Cat said, coming over to tease me where I could see her.
I didn't have enough juice left for a comeback. But she touched my face and smiled and said, "Yeah, you better not sass me back after all you put me through."
"He can talk a blue streak to me if he want to," Aisha said. And she sat on the other side of the bed and started massaging my back as if to reward me for cussing him out.
Big Man looked relieved, too. He sat back and said, "That peritonitis ain't no joke. I lost a cousin that way. Dude got gut shot and all that nasty stuff ran all out into his belly on the way to the hospital. Kept cutting on him for weeks, but that infection just ate up all his insides."
"That's that flesh eating thing," Mike said. "Had two die from it here a couple weeks ago. They get it from the hospital, some of 'em. And the antibiotics don't even work."
"Well, they ain't givin' it to my baby," Aisha told me. "Cause I wipe er'thing down all day long."
"You're lucky she didn't spray you down with Lysol," Cat told Big Man.
"Well, they in here feelin' on 'im all day long, them nurses'n' doctors and whatnot," Aisha said. "Bitches be fightin' over who gon' do what. Other patients, they don't give a damn about. But he got a damned waitin' lis' o' nurses wantin' to get their hands on 'im."
"They wear gloves, don't they?" Big Man asked.
"Gloves come out a open box," Aisha said. "People be touchin' 'em when they go to pull out a pair. So whatever germs was on they hands when they reached up in there's right there on them gloves they puttin' on. And then they wanna start touchin' on his stitches and whatnot. So I make 'em rub that gel all over 'em. 'fore they go anywhere near 'im."
"Damn, you mean bidness, don't you?"
"Oh, she's got her own little alternative medicine thing goin' on," Mike said. "Tell 'im about those therapeutic sponge baths she gave him while he was still out cold."
She shot a look at Cat that helped Big Man catch on real quick.
But then he went, "Wait, how'd that work? When he wasn't even conscious?"
"Worked just fine," Aisha said, with this really devilish smile. "You know Lil Daddy gon' always man up."
So Mike goes, "Makes you wish you had wound up in here with him, dunnit?"
And Big Man breaks out singing that Marvin Gaye, "Sexual Healing" song. The part that goes:
"Baby, I got sick this mornin'
A sea was stormin' inside of me
Baby, I think I'm capsizin'
The waves are risin' and risin'
And when I get that feeling
I want sexual healing
Sexual healing is good for me
Makes me feel so fine, it's such a rush
Helps to relieve the mind..."
And the way he was grinning at Aisha as he sang it, even I had to laugh, as best I could.
But Aisha smirked and went, "Yeah, well, y'all can joke around all you want, but I'm gon' get my baby back home. And he gon' walk outta here jus' as strong as he was befo'. You watch'n' see."
Big Man chuckled. And then he focused on something on the wall above my head and said, "What kinda voodoo shit is that?"
I couldn't turn to see it. But when he reached up to try and touch it, Aisha leapt up and swatted his hand away.
"That ain't no voodoo, fool! Tia and them people at the ranch prayed on that," she told him. "Priest brought it. I guess those lil Indian women made it some kinda way. Ones him'n' that woman helped. You remember."
Mike took a picture of it on her cell and showed it to me. It was a big cross made out of some kind of tree branches or something. And there were all these Milagros--little silver charms--and tobacco bundles and things hung on it.
The milagros were of my heart and lungs and stomach and all the places that got shot up. You stick them up on shrines and those "nichos" people have in their yards out our way. To ask God to fix those parts.
"They did that thing where you walk up to the church doors on your knees," Cat told me. "To suffer with you. The whole village. Wait..."
She found a video someone made. And my heart hurt, when I saw them all crawling to the church with their hands pressed together against their chests, praying the whole way. Some of them had deliberately rolled up their pant legs or tied up their skirts so that they'd get all scratched up and bloody on the way.
Wasn't enough to pray. They had to actually feel physical pain. And even the young flirty girls were out there scraping up their knees. And some of the Goons, I saw. Shirts off, sweating even though it was sort of cold out.
Tia was in front, of course. But she looked like she was ready to keel over. Some other women were almost dragging her along, while she moaned and groaned and kept yelling, "Ay Dios! Ayudame! Ayudame!"
That's, "Oh, God! Help me! Help me!" And it broke my heart. I couldn't take it. So I closed my eyes sort of to signal that I had had enough.
And Mike said, "They get all into it, those people."
"Blood o' Christ," Aisha said. "God gave us his son. You got to give up somethin' big to get His attention."
"What'd 'e want our son for?" Mike asked her. Kind of angry.
And then Aisha looked at me and said, "We need to think on that. What we done to need humblin' that bad."
I knew there was something real important about that little speech. But I wouldn't be in on that discussion. I was starting to fade. Big Man saw it first and gave the girls a little glance, before leaning in to put his hand on my arm.
"Go on get that nap, Lil Daddy," he said. "I'm here for a few days. Hugh's holding down the fort but he'll come on over on the weekend, he said. Amelie had some work she couldn't put off any longer. But she'll be here as soon as she can get away. I sure do like that girl. I really do."
I smiled because I liked her, too. And Cat came over and kissed me and said, "You don't need to keep him company. Go on back to sleep."
I sort of nestled down against the pillows, and she smiled and started tucking me in like I was a little kid or something.
And she looked me in the eyes and kissed me on the forehead and said, "I'm gonna wind up in the hospital myself, if you keep scarin' the hell out of me. You've got to get better, little boy. You hear me?"
I wanted to touch her but everything went out of focus and I was swept away. But it was okay. Everything was okay. Wyatt's eyes had told me so.
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