Chance Encounter, Chapter 6
I got the call around 11:00 a.m. because I was listed as an emergency contact. There had been a shooting on campus, and Chance had been taken to the hospital.
Tears blinded my vision as I tried to remain calm and rational. There were things which needed doing, even as I drove to be with him. On the way, I contacted Allied Glass to let his boss know why he wouldn't be there in the afternoon. I called one of my clients to move our yearly review of her portfolio to the following Friday.
The next thing was to decide how and when to tell Gavin. He was working at the grocery store until 3:00. That would allow me time to have a better perspective on Chance's injuries and prognosis. I felt it was kinder to let the lad have a few hours of peace before he had to face what could be a harsh reality, especially if things turned out to be worse than I'd been told on the phone.
"I'm Matthew Bennett, and I'm here to see Chance Monroe," I told the lady at the emergency desk.
"Um, yes, they've taken him up for surgery on 5 E. You'll need to go there quickly if you want to see him before they work on him."
I thanked her and sprinted to the east elevators which seemed as if they were half a block away. Fortunately, I arrived just as the doors were opening to a car which was headed up.
Again, I announced myself, this time at the main desk of the surgical unit, and was told that it would probably be an hour or more before I would hear anything about his condition because he was being operated on as we spoke.
"May I ask your connection to the patient?" she requested.
"We're domestic partners, and we have medical power of attorney for each other. Is there a problem?"
"No, I just need to know who's allowed to see him. Are there any other relatives?"
"His brother, Gavin, will be coming after I get in contact with him. He's working, and I'm his transportation."
"And what is his age?"
"Sixteen," I lied. "His car is in the shop (another fib to confirm his supposed age), so I'll have to pick him up. I didn't want to worry him unnecessarily."
"That's probably wise. Did you talk to the police about what happened?"
"Only briefly on the phone. Do know any of the details?"
"Only that your partner is a hero. I hope all goes well for him. I'm confident that this is the best place in the county for treating his wounds."
The stress over having to sit and wait was about to make be jump out of my skin, so I gave the lady my cell number to contact me the minute she knew anything. Then I went back down to emergency where she thought an officer from the campus security was probably still wanting to talk to me.
Sergeant Faraday came toward me the minute I entered the area. He had obtained a description of me, and, not having found me, had been ready to head for the surgery unit.
"Mr. Bennett, right?"
"Yes sir."
"I'm Sergeant Faraday from campus security. They sent me along to talk to next of kin."
The color must have drained from my face at his words "next of kin," because he gently took my arm and led me to a relatively unoccupied spot in the room.
"Sorry, I suppose that was a poor choice of words. Mr. Monroe was still conscious in the ambulance, and I think that's a good sign. I don't want to frighten you on the one hand, or give you false hope on the other. He's lost a lot of blood, but he seemed strong."
"The receptionist up in surgery referred to him as a hero. Do you know anything about that?"
"He undoubtedly saved a young woman's life. Her ex-boyfriend was intent on killing her. Mr. Monroe stepped between them and prevented it. We arrived as quickly as humanly possible, but only managed to keep the guy from hurting anyone else."
"Is the guy dead?"
"Yes."
"Good!"
My tears prevented me from asking anything else for a moment. The kind sergeant put an arm around my shoulders and squeezed tightly. It was great to know someone empathized.
"So," I said, when I found my voice again, "is the lady okay?"
"Yes she is. In fact, she kept her wits, and most likely saved your friend's life in return. She'd been a nurse in Iraq, so she had a lot of experience with battlefield trauma. She knew how serious his wounds were and immediately applied pressure to slow the loss of blood."
"Wow."
The ringing of my phone interrupted our conversation. Chance was in the recovery room, and the surgeon would be available to speak with me in about 10 minutes. So I bade the officer goodbye and hurried back up to the fifth floor.
I stood impatiently in the small consultation room, not able to force myself to sit until the doctor had entered.
"Dr. Price," he said, offering his hand.
"Matt Bennett."
We shook hands, and he gestured toward a chair, choosing to sit in the one next to me instead of behind the desk. I momentarily wondered if that was a good or bad omen.
"Our patient came through the surgical procedure quite well despite having lost a large quantity of blood. A bullet nicked a major artery in his abdomen, but not the aorta, and lodged in his liver. We removed the slug and repaired the hole. He's receiving transfusions and IV fluids. Rumor has it that a former combat nurse kept him from bleeding out."
"Yeah, the campus cop just told me. Uh, is he really going to be alright? Are you holding anything back? If so, I rather hear it up front."
"He was in critical condition when he arrived. My feeling is that he has improved already because of what we were able to do. I must caution you that the next 24 to 48 hours still carry a risk. We have to be very vigilant that we keep his blood at the right consistency. We don't want to cause further bleeding, but, at the same time, we have to be careful of blood clots. We'll be walking a rather fine line. If he makes it through that time period without serious complications, he should come out of this with no lasting physical effects.
He has many positive things going for him. He's young, strong, and in good health. He's a very lucky young man to have had an experienced nurse on the scene, and also to have had University Hospital so close."
"Thank you for giving it to me straight up. How soon may I see him?"
"I'm finished for the day, barring some unforeseen emergency, and I'll walk you there now."
"He's very sedated, and probably won't respond for several more hours – possibly sometime tomorrow," an ICU nurse warned.
"That's okay. I still have to talk to him before I go get his brother."
"Chance, it's me, Matt. Squeeze my hand if you love me."
I had high hopes that I would feel his hand firmly grip mine to show he was cognizant of my presence. It seemed to me that I felt a slight bit of pressure, but it was probably wishful thinking on my part. That didn't prevent me from continuing my conversation.
"Babe, I have to go home to get Gavin; okay?"
Again, I waited for a sign, but couldn't be sure that I had gotten one. I left with a lump in my throat.
Gavin and Kip rode into the drive on their bikes right behind my car. I was glad they were together because I figured that Seth might be able to comfort him more than I could.
Gavin immediately knew from the look on my face that something was wrong. I guess I'd never be able to play poker in Vegas.
"Did something happen to Chance?" he asked. "Customers at the store were talking about a shooting at the university."
"He was the victim," I nodded.
"Oh God, is he dead?" tears forming in his eyes.
"No, he's in the hospital and in stable condition following surgery. I got to see him a few minutes ago in the ICU, but he's not conscious yet."
"Please take me!"
"Of course. That's why I'm here."
"Can I go along?" Seth asked.
"You may, but they'll only let family in. I need to take along a copy of our power of attorney agreement in case they try to keep ME out. So far, they've taken my word that he's my partner.
Um, if they ask your age, Gavin, you're 16. In some parts of the hospital, they don't allow visitors under that age."
"Thanks!"
Seth and I both wrapped Gavin in our arms while he gave in to his emotions for a few moments.
As we drove to the hospital with Gavin in the shotgun seat, his mind was racing. He probably said some things that he might not have under other circumstances, but he was upset and frightened about what might transpire in the future.
"What would happen to me if, um, something happened to Chance that he wouldn't make it?"
"I hope that you'd want to continue to live with me."
"You'd keep me, even if...?" His voice broke.
"Sure. You're MY brother too, unless you'd want to go somewhere else."
"I don't have any place else to go! Shit! I'm so selfish. He's up there fighting for his life and I'm thinking about me! Oops, sorry about the language."
"Gavin, you have every right to worry about yourself. If you didn't, you wouldn't be normal. Just rest assured that you have a home, no matter what happens."
"Thanks. I love you Matt."
"I love you too, Bro."
At that point, Seth leaned forward in the back seat and put his arms around Gavin to comfort him. I'm sure that helped to alleviate his fears as well.
Gavin had pulled himself together by the time we entered the ICU area. As I had predicted, Seth wasn't allowed in to see Chance. I kicked myself for not trying to pass him off as another family member, but the window of opportunity had closed.
Gavin and I stood on each side of the bed, holding Chance's hands in ours. I talked to him for a while, and so did Gavin. I was pleased that the lad kept up a cheerful monologue for several minutes. He told an amusing story about an older lady whose groceries he'd placed in the trunk of her car. He had to be careful not to disturb her cat that she'd just picked up from the taxidermy shop.
She was afraid that "Fluffy" would get crushed by the grocery bags if they shifted when she rounded a corner, so she asked Gavin to put him in the back seat. Though it felt creepy to handle a dead, stuffed animal, he had done it without flinching.
The lady tried to tip him a dollar for his services, but he told her that the store didn't allow sackers to take tips. She replied that the tip was for moving her cat and not the groceries, so he wouldn't be breaking any rules. She put the dollar back in her purse and surreptitiously pulled out a five which she kept wadded up in her left hand.
After Gavin had helped her into the driver's seat and closed her door, she rolled down the window and kept him engaged in conversation a bit longer. Then she stuffed the money in his shirt pocket and drove away before he could give it back.
His tale was amusing, and I had to smile. It was wonderful to be able to grin for the first time in several hours. This sweet young man had an indomitable and compassionate spirit. I would raise him as my own if, God forbid, the worst happened.
After half an hour, I suggested that Gavin should go find Kip in the waiting room and take him to the cafeteria for a snack. I stuffed a ten-dollar bill in his hands, even though he said I didn't need to.
Within 15 or 20 minutes, he was back to tell me that Karen was on her way to take Seth home so that I wouldn't have to leave Chance's side. When I asked if he wanted to go with them, he declined. He said he would stay at the hospital until he knew Chance was out of danger, unless he got kicked out first.
He did ask if I could call the manager of the store to get him excused from work the next day. It delighted me to know that our boy was showing responsibility and keeping a clear head even in the face of misfortune.
That night, Gavin and I slept fitfully, on and off, for several hours in chairs that clearly weren't designed for that purpose. I felt like I'd barely drifted off before someone awakened me as they checked on Chance. In a way, that helped me relax because I knew he was being constantly monitored.
Gavin rarely stirred, most likely because of his age. Teens can sleep through major disasters when they're tired enough.
Around 5:30 a. m., as the eastern sky began to lighten, I was once again awakened. I looked out at the gray sky and noticed that a light rain was falling. For a moment, I couldn't remember if I'd put the top up on my car after parking it in the ramp. I was pretty sure it was in a sheltered area since I knew I hadn't driven all the way to the top, but a number of details from yesterday afternoon seemed to be missing from my memory. I idly wondered if that's how Alzheimer's patients feel in the early stages of the disease.
I was jolted out of my musing by a movement in the hospital bed.
"Babe, are you awake?" I asked as I took his hand again.
This time, I was pretty certain that he was responding to me.
"Squeeze my hand if you love me."
He responded with a grip that was surprisingly firm for someone who had nearly bled to death less than 24 hours ago.
"Can I do anything for you?"
"Water," he rasped.
"Let me check to see if you can have any," I responded, pushing the call button.
In the blink of an eye, a nurse appeared.
"What's the problem?" she asked.
"Water!" Chance uttered, a bit stronger.
"Oh, good morning Chance. I'm so pleased you're awake! I'm afraid that all I can offer right now is slivers of ice, but that should help moisten your mouth. I'll check on how soon you can have liquid."
"Thanks," he managed to say.
"Awesome, you're awake!" Gavin exclaimed as he sprang from his chair to take Chance's other hand.
Chance actually smiled in response to his brother's exuberance. I felt tears of joy flowing freely down my cheeks.
He was conscious, and that was a milestone, but I kept thinking about the 24 to 48-hour period the surgeon had warned me about. I wouldn't be able to breathe easy until that time had passed. He had to make it through without getting blood clots in his legs, lungs, or, God forbid, his brain!
Chance drifted in and out of sleep, requesting more ice chips when he was awake. There wasn't much to do for him except hold his hand. After a bit, I suggested to Gavin that he might want to go down to the cafeteria for breakfast. He didn't really resist; his stomach growled loudly for attention.
After he returned, he insisted that I do the same. I didn't fight it either.
While I was at a table in the cafeteria, I used my phone to call the manager of Kroger to tell him why Gavin wouldn't be at the store that afternoon, and possibly for several days. The man was quite nice about it, saying that he had several sackers scheduled and wouldn't need all of them because many older customers wouldn't be out in the rainy weather unless they had to be. He said his thoughts would be with Gavin and his brother during the recovery process. He thanked me for letting him know. I was impressed with his kindhearted handling of the news.
Around 10:00, Gavin and I were chased out of the ICU while a team of doctors and interns came in to thoroughly examine Chase and consult about his recovery. We waited nearby so that we could, hopefully, get an update on their prognosis.
The medical professionals were rather pleased with their work, and his progress. They were moving him to a private room, and would be having him up and walking, probably later in the day.
Chance was still drowsy when he was put on a gurney and wheeled into his room. The orderly said that wasn't unusual in light of the trauma his body had been through. That was the answer to the unspoken question that Gavin and I had on our minds.
I was drifting in and out of sleep beside Chance in his new room when a light knock on the door brought me to full consciousness.
"Hi, I'm Mimi Hague and I wondered if I could come in for a minute. I'm the person that Mr. Monroe saved yesterday."
"Please come in, Mimi," I smiled, rising from the chair. "I'm Matt Bennett. Chance may not wake up, but we can try. He's pretty out of it still, rather like his little brother," I gestured toward Gavin who was sacked out on the sofa.
"Oh, I don't want to disturb him."
"I'm sure he won't mind. He'll enjoy having a visitor."
"I'm awake; I'm just checking my eyelids for light-leaks," Chance joked, his voice still raspy.
"Chance, this is Mimi. She says you saved her life yesterday."
"I'm glad I could be of assistance," he said attempting to raise his hand.
She held his hand and smiled. As her attempt at not getting emotional wasn't entirely successful, I handed her a tissue.
"They tell me you saved my life too," Chance said in a slightly stronger voice. "I'm really happy that you had the training you did."
"It was the least I could do to try to pay you back. I knew that Greg was dangerous, but I couldn't get anyone to take me seriously. They all said there was little to be done as long as he hadn't actually harmed me or threatened me in the presence of witnesses. I was going to try to file for a no-contact order after class, but he showed up before I could."
"Sometimes those aren't worth the paper they're printed on," I observed.
"No, you're right, but I still feel responsible for what happened. He was a great, loving guy until his last tour of duty. I don't think it was PTSD because those symptoms don't make a person mean, but something went wrong with him. That damned war has screwed up too many people."
"Yeah, I know about that," Chance agreed. "some lose limbs and others of us lose part of our rationality."
"You seem to have come through okay," Mimi said.
"Only because my guy took the effort to help me heal. Speaking of which, do you think I should check in with Arthur?" He asked me.
"He's my therapist," he informed Mimi.
"I called him a while ago, and he should be here yet this afternoon," I smiled.
Being a medical professional, Mimi sensed that Chance needed his rest, and didn't want to over-stay her welcome. Before she left, she leaned over and kissed his cheek. He seemed moved by her gesture of affection.
Author's notes: I heard from the following readers this week, Terry A, Lola B, Wayne, Chandra B, Tom A, Larry S, Randy M, John L, Bill K, Dick M, Jim W, Howard A, Charles G, Don S, Trish R, Tony F, Hotrod, Jim L, Mendy D, and Douglas and Lawrence.
If you responded and don't see your name, it's likely that I sent this chapter for posting before your email came. Sometimes, they end up in the "junk" file and I miss them if "Chance Encounter" isn't in the subject line.
Thanks for your support and for the support you give to Nifty to keep this free site operating.
Thanks Tom and David for editing!
Personal note to Jim W. I still get a message that there is a flaw in the address, but I guess the emails must be getting through.
My best,
David