Can't Wait to Get to Heaven

After the MRI

4:30 PM

A bit later that afternoon, after Elner’s MRI and CAT scan, they wheeled her up to intensive care and plugged her back up to all the machines again. By this time Norma was back in the waiting room with the rest of them, wondering what was going on. Macky was getting very impatient. He finally walked over to the desk and asked the girl where Elner was, and why they weren’t coming out and telling them anything. The girl made a phone call and then said, “She’s back up in intensive care, that’s all the information I have.”

“Where is intensive care?”

“That’s on seven, but you have to wait.”

Macky did not wait. He walked over to the others and said, “Come on, this is ridiculous, we are going to see her right now.” Susie stayed behind in case the doctor came out. When they reached the seventh floor Macky said to Norma and Linda, “Wait here and let me go in first, then I’ll come back and get you.” Macky passed by several rooms before he found her room, and just as he was about to go in, a male nurse was just walking out. When he saw Macky standing there, he asked somewhat indignantly, “Just where do you think you’re going?”

“I’m going in to see my aunt,” said Macky.

“Oh no, you’re not!” the nurse said, closing the door behind him. “Can’t you read? The sign says no visitors.”

“Oh, I can read, but I’m going to see my aunt.”

“Oh no, you’re not!” he said again, putting his hands on his hips and almost stomping his foot.

Macky looked at him and said calmly, “Now, buddy, if you want to try and stop me, that’s your business, but make no mistake, I am going in.”

The nurse sized up the man standing in front of him. He was older and not as tall as he was, but there was something about the look in Macky’s eye that caused the nurse to suddenly step aside and let him go in. He sensed that this man was not someone he wanted to tangle with.

Macky walked into the room and went over to the bed; when Elner looked up and saw who it was, she was glad to see him. “Hey, Macky!” she said, trying to reach for his hand.

“Hey, yourself,” he said, looking at her with a smile. “How you doing, old gal?”

She laughed. “I’m all hooked up.”

“I can see that,” he said.

“This is a fine mess, isn’t it? How did Linda get here so fast? What time is it anyway? I’m all turned around, I hope I didn’t make you miss work.”

“Don’t worry about it. How do you feel?”

“Oh, fine, except these wasp bites are starting to itch. Are Norma and Linda still here?”

“They’re right outside, waiting to see you.”

“Macky,” she said, looking up at him. “I sure am sorry I fell out of that tree. Is Norma real mad?”

“Nooo, not at all, she’s just glad you are OK. Do you need anything?”

“I need somebody to go over and give Sonny his breakfast and feed my birds; make sure my oven is off.”

“All that’s been taken care of. Ruby and Tot already did it.”

“They did? That’s a relief. By the way, where am I?”

“You’re at the Caraway Hospital in Kansas City.”

“That’s what I figured, but how did I get here?”

“The ambulance picked you up and brought you.”

“An ambulance? I don’t remember being in an ambulance.”

“You were knocked out.”

“I was?”

“Out cold.”

“Did they have the siren going?”

“Sure did.”

“Well, shoot, I had a ride in an ambulance and I missed the whole thing.”

“Are you up to seeing Norma and Linda? They’re having a fit to see you.”

“Oh, sure…And Macky, find out what they did with my robe, will you?”

When Norma and Linda walked into the room, they went over and kissed her, and Aunt Elner said to Linda, “I’m sorry you had to make the trip for nothing.”

“Don’t be silly, I’m just so glad you are all right, we thought you were dead.”

“I thought I was too,” she said. “When I woke up alive, I was as surprised as anybody.”

“Well, I doubt that,” said Norma.

It was around five-thirty by the time the doctor finally had all the results of the tests and came to find Norma and Macky. When they came out into the hall, he explained that so far all they had found were the wasp stings and a few bruises, but everything else looked good. Then Macky asked him, “What the hell happened earlier? Was she in some sort of a coma and just snapped out of it?”

“I really can’t say what happened.”

“Why did you think she was dead?”

“Mr. Warren, all our indications said that she was dead.”

“Well, maybe you should check your indications then, because something was off.”

The doctor shook his head. “Mr. Warren, we just don’t know what went wrong yet, but I promise you, we’ll get to the bottom of it, and as soon as we know, I’ll let you know.”

Norma saw that the doctor seemed genuinely upset and looked absolutely exhausted, and she said, “We’re just happy she’s all right now, and her hip’s not broken.”

“No, no broken bones, but we do need to keep her for a few days and do a few more tests just to make sure she’s OK.”

Norma said, “Whatever you think, Doctor.”

As the doctor walked away, Norma said, “I hope he doesn’t get into any trouble.”

A few minutes later, when Dr. Henson came into Franklin Pixton’s office, he was visibly shaken.

Franklin asked, “What is her present condition?”

“Stable, vital signs all normal, MRI, CAT scan both normal.”

“What happened?”

“She flatlined…. I tried everything.”

Franklin held up his hand to stop him, and pushed the intercom. “Order another complete check on all the OR machines immediately.” He then sat back. “All right, Bob, go on.”

“She came in on a Code Three and by the time I got to her, she was gone. But we did everything…. What can I say?”

“You know there will be an inquiry. I’m going to have to drug test you.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Are you OK?”

The doctor nodded. “Yes, I’m just tired, but that’s no excuse. I take full responsibility, but I just don’t understand how I could have been so wrong. I’ve gone over and over—”

“Where is she now?”

“We’re keeping her in intensive, and I’ve called in a neurologist to do a cognitive exam first thing in the morning.”

After the doctor left his office, Franklin was surprised that something like this had not happened sooner. The doctors working down in ER were exhausted, surviving week after week on two to three hours’ sleep, working under pressure, having to make life-and-death decisions. It was almost inhuman to expect a person to go through that. Franklin understood about being tired. Everybody was tired. He himself had been exhausted for years. It seemed that all he did was careen from one catastrophe to another. If it wasn’t one damn thing, it was another: appease this one, meet with this or that group, who were bellyaching about something, threatening to walk out on strike. The entire hospital was always on the verge of some disaster.

In the past ten years, operating expenses had shot through the roof. With all the criminals and dope fiends in and out of the hospital, they were now forced to spend a fortune on security guards, then last year they had to fire seven security guards for stealing painkillers. The linen supply company had upped their prices, the garbage pickup service they used went on strike, their computer system had to be completely updated when some hackers got into the system and gained access to all their patients’ reports.

Caraway Hospital was an institution originally set up to help people, but now everything seemed intent on making it almost impossible. The insurance companies, the unions, the shyster lawyers; if they could manage to get a patient in and out of the hospital these days without getting sued or robbed, it was an accomplishment. Their emergency room was jammed with people who were now using it as their own personal clinic. Forget the hospital getting paid for their services; most patients did not have insurance, and for the ones who did, it took months and years to get full payment, and all the while his payroll had to be met. The people who could afford to pay wound up paying a small fortune for what most everybody else got for free. Of course, there were people who really could not pay. He understood that, but it was the others, the ones looking for any excuse to sue, the ones who believed they shouldn’t have to pay, that medical care was owed to them. Never mind that they were costing the system millions and forcing him to lay perfectly good workers off, leaving others underpaid and overworked.

He was vehemently opposed to the somewhat gleeful practice of the public and the government soaking the rich. Most of the rich people he knew, including himself, worked very hard for their money and were responsible for almost all the hospital’s larger donations. It was the generosity of the rich that kept it going. He did not think the rich owed everybody else a free ride; and yet, that very thing was happening at Caraway. Everybody wanted a free ride, including a lot of his staff, and if the hospital was to survive, things had to change soon or he did not hold out much hope. He worried about both the rich and the poor, about what would happen to them when the hospital was forced to close its doors for good.

Brenda buzzed him. “Your wife on three.” He closed his eyes for five seconds. He knew she was calling about the Have a Heart Charity Ball tonight. He picked up and listened to her problems about the centerpieces not being the right color.

“Yes, dear,” he said. “Yes, dear, I agree, that’s terrible.”

At that very moment a phone call was made on the q.t. from the hospital cafeteria to the lawyer Gus Shimmer.

“Gus?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s me.”

“What do you have for me?”

“Patient. Mrs. Shimfissle, closest relative, Mrs. Norma Warren.”

“Yeah?”

“Mistakenly pronounced dead, left for five hours.”

“You’re kidding?”

“No, I saw the file.”

“Have they signed anything yet?”

“Yes…the two happiness boys got to her right away.”

“That’s OK. This could be big. Really big. Telling you somebody’s dead is one hell of a misdiagnosis.”

“I thought so.”

“If it goes, you’re in for twenty percent this time. OK?”

“Plus my usual finder’s fee.”

“Of course,” he said, thinking but not saying, “You greedy little bastard.”

But when the two-hundred-and-eighty-pound lawyer hung up, he was ecstatic. This could be a really good case. He was not worried that the family had already signed the usual no-responsibility waivers. There was not a waiver, an irrevocable trust fund, a prenuptial agreement, a contract, verbal or written, that he could not get somebody out of, or around. Caraway Hospital was his big fat personal gold mine, just waiting to be mined over and over again. He calculated that after he paid off the nurse and maybe threw a little dough at the clients, by the time he got through, he would make plenty. Of course his wife, Selma, hated it whenever he took on another lawsuit against a hospital. She said, “Gus, you keep suing these hospitals for every little thing. God forbid if I should ever wind up in the emergency room, and they find out who I’m married to, they will be afraid to touch me.”