Trapped (12 page)

Chapter Twenty-Two

It amazed them that their minds had moved in the same direction. Mike had never knelt before to ask for her hand, but soon, they were in the full wedding planning mode, or at least Lisa was.

“Whatever you want,” was Mike’s stock phrase that she, at first, interpreted as indifference. Later, she came to understand that Mike, like most men, wasn’t into the details of wedding plans.

“Let me make you an offer you can’t refuse,” Mike said.

“Let’s have it.”

“If you let Nora and my sisters stand in for me on planning the wedding, I’ll cancel the stripper at my bachelor’s party.”

“You’re a physician, right? You’ve seen more than your fair share of female flesh, and yet you feel the need for a stripper?”

“It’s not for me,” he protested loudly, “it’s for the guys. I don’t want to let them down.”

“It’s a deal,” Lisa said.

“Let’s go backpacking in the Canadian Rockies for our honeymoon,” Mike said, smiling.

“That’s great Mike, if you don’t mind honeymooning alone. I’m easy,” she said
. “Just give me a romantic place where we can be alone. Good food, drink, and an excuse to wear something pretty.”

Finally, after exhaustive research, they settled on Anse Chastanet, a luxury diving resort on the island of St. Lucia.

They
had reserved Heather Farms’ Rose Garden in nearby Contra Costa County for the wedding ceremony. Their guests, family, and friends sat in rows facing the gazebo with the lake in the background.

Lisa walked down the a
isle with Sandy, her mother. She glowed in her beaded off-the-shoulder form-fitting gown.

Mike wore a rented Tommy Hilfiger tuxedo with a grey vest. He walked toward the gazebo with Nora on his arm, and then turned to watch Lisa walk down the aisle. He smoothed his hair back with both hands, greeted Lisa, took her hand
, and stood before the minister. The ceremony was brief. They’d written their own vows. Lisa, Sandy, Phoebe, the Maid of Honor, the bridesmaids, Nora, Mike’s sisters, and the nurses cried throughout the ceremony.

So many women, so many
tears, so many tissues,
Mike thought.
I’m just glad it’s a happy occasion.

When the minister finally said, “You may kiss the bride,” they remained locked in a passionate kiss until the audience applauded
, and then yelled, “Enough—enough.”

Nora found the opportunity to pull Lisa aside
, and hugged her, saying, “I’m so happy for you both.”

Lisa smiled, her eyes filling. “I love him so much, it hurts.”

“It hasn’t been easy for me, Mike, or the girls after Aaron died,” Nora said. “How do you bring up children, especially a son, without his father?”

“You did a fantastic job. The girls are
amazing, and you know how I feel about Michael.”

“This is going to sound antiquated, Lisa, and I hope you’ll take it in the right way.”

“What is it?” Lisa asked, suddenly leery.

“It’s as if we’re giving Mike to you, like a father giving away the bride. We’re entrusting Mike to you, and if you’ll excuse the colloquialism, we want you to do right by him.”

“I understand,” Lisa said, smiling. “I love him more than life. Please, don’t worry.”

Everyone had a great time at the informal reception, and afterward, Mr. and Mrs. Cooper spent the night at the Claremont Hotel in Berkeley. Early the next morning, the limousine took them to San Francisco International Airport for their flight to the Caribbean.

The plane descended through the dark clouds overlying the lush tropical island of St. Lucia, but landed without difficulty.

After an hour’s cab ride over barely passable roads, they arrived at Anse Castanet sitting in full view of the volcanic peaks, the Gros and Petit Pitons, volcanic peaks that dominated the western coast. Their ten days passed quickly with gourmet meals, lazy mornings, and some of the best diving in the Caribbean.

They took a boat tour to visit the Castries, St. Lucia’s bustling city and spent the day shopping, eating, and enjoying tropical drinks.
A large sign on the front of a house depicted a crystal ball and announced the magnificent Madam Helene. Lisa said, “Let’s get a reading.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Come on,” she coaxed, “it’ll be fun.”

Lisa dragged Mike into the darkened room, where a spider-thin black woman sat before her eight-inch crystal ball. They paid her the equivalent of five dollars
, and then sat as she moved her hands gracefully over the ball.

“Look into it, Missy,” she said with a Caribbean lilt. “I see many years of good health
, and one or two children, I can’t be sure.”

She looked at Mike’s vaguely hidden disdain
, and said, “Look deeply into the ball. Relax, and let yourself go.”

Mike shifted his chair forward
, and looking into the clear, sparkly ball, saw nothing.

“I see…” Madam Helene started,
and then suddenly stopped, staring into Mike’s face.

“What’s wrong?” Lisa
asked.

“I’m not sure. It’s hard to say. The ball is isn’t clear enough to be sure,” said Madam Helene in a soft voice. “It’s difficult to see in the presence of the unbeliever.”

“You saw something,” Lisa said, becoming upset.

“I saw… nothing that I can say with sureness,” said Helene.

“Come on, Lisa. Let’s get going,” Mike said.

“She saw something. Don’t you see it?”

“I see that she’s upset you. For what?”

They stood to leave, but when Lisa looked back at Madam Helene, she thought she saw despair in her eyes.

Afterward, Helene covered the crystal ball with a red silk cloth, and shook her head in sadness.

“Don’t be upset, Lisa,” Mike
said. “Crystal ball reading? It’s nonsense.”

I know,
she thought,
but…

Chapter Twenty-Three

Harvey Russo, a senior obstetrician and gynecologist, and Mike Cooper were taking a break in the doctor’s lounge after morning rounds.

“So, how’s married life?”

“Two months and counting. So far, so good.”

“Want some advice from an old hand?”

“Shoot.”

“Do something every day to please Lisa, and before you open your mouth, even in anger,
stop and think…Will I regret what comes out?’ Women, like elephants, never forget.”

The loudspeakers at Brier Hospital blared, “Dr. Harvey Russo, Dr. Michael Cooper, call the emergency room
, stat.”

“I don’t like the sound of that, Mike.”

“Let’s walk over so we can enjoy the good news together.”

When they approached the ER’s nurses’ station, the admitting clerk said, “Dr. Blake’s in his office.”

The term “office” was a compliment for the closet the ER docs used when they worked.

“Sorry, guys,” Manny Blake
said. “Have a seat.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Manny. Just handle whatever this is by
yourself.”

“Usually, I prefer to deal with problems that way, but this one
—I’m happy to punt.”

“Let’s have it,” Mike
said.

“You guys know the tiny community of Canyon? It’s in the East Bay
Hills between Oakland and Moraga. It has an interesting history extending back into the nineteenth century, and, in the 60s, it became, and still is today, a center for alternative lifestyles.”

“Thanks for the history lesson, Manny, and I like the lifestyles hint. How about the bad news,” Harvey
said.

“You know,”
Manny said, “I admire you two. You rise to the occasion with the most difficult and frustrating cases…”

“Now I’m getting nervous,” Mike
said.

“The morning greeted me with a midwife and her patient. They came in from Canyon
. The thirty-six year old mother, Melinda Hicks, lives somewhere in the hills in a commune. This is her first pregnancy.”

“Okay,” Harvey
said. “Let’s have it.”

“Oh,” Manny
said, “she’s twenty-three weeks, a Jehovah’s Witness, and yes, she’s in labor.”

Harvey and Mike faced each other, smiled
, and then laughed.

“I don’t know how we can ever thank you, Manny,” Harvey
groaned.

“You’ll find a way, Harvey.”

“Let’s meet them.”

When they entered the treatment room, Manny introduced Harvey and Mike.

“No transfusions,” Melinda Hicks said. She was laying on the gurney holding a woman’s hand. The woman standing next to her looked to be in her early twenties with long, straight hair that went to her waist.

Mike looked around to see to whom she was talking.

The midwife introduced herself. “I’m Angelina Cummins. We don’t believe in the use of blood. ‘But flesh with—blood—ye shall not eat’ (Genesis 9:4).”

“It’s nice to meet you
, too,” Harvey said, smiling. “And, I don’t think that Brier Hospital has blood on its menu.”

“I’m sorry, D
octor,” Melinda said, grimacing with a contraction. “It’s better to be out front with our beliefs.” She turned to Angelina. “Get the card from my purse.”

Angelina found Melinda’s wallet, then removed the card. “This is her advanced directive for health care. It prohibits the use of blood or blood byproducts.”

Mike reddened a bit, and then faced Melinda. “Dr. Russo’s an obstetrician. I’m a pediatrician, specializing in the care of newborn babies, especially those born prematurely. I have two questions; first, do you want us to treat you and your baby? Second, are there any other limitations on what care we can provide?”

“Yes, we’d like your help,” Angelina
said. She paused. “However, blood, in any form, is the only prohibition.”

“Okay,” Harvey
said. “I’m going to examine you, do an ultrasound to look at the baby, and run some tests.”

Afterward, Mike and Harvey sat again in Manny’s office.

“I’m admitting her to the OB ward under my name,” Harvey
said.

“What’s with you
?” Mike said. “If you think I’m going to abide by that religious crap with a preemie, then you don’t know me.”

“Take it easy, Mike
. How many Jehovah’s Witnesses have you treated?”

“I’ve been involved peripherally when I was a resident. The woman let her baby die
, rather than allowing her to get blood.”

“Well I have dealt with them before, and one of the secrets
is knowing when to pick your battles.”

“Melinda may be willing to risk her life for her beliefs,” Mike
said, “but once that baby’s born, I’ll see to it, somehow that the baby gets what it needs, including blood.”

The prohibition against blood took on the character of a political campaign. The door to Melinda’s room had a sign, interestingly in red letters, ‘NO BLOOD OR BLOOD PRODUCTS’ and the wall over her bed had a similar sign, plus the Advance Directive for Health Care.

“I think I get the message, Harvey,” Mike said as they entered her room.

Melinda sat in bed, reading
The Watchtower.
Copies of
Awake
lay on the bedside table.

“Good morning,
Doctors,” Melinda said with a smile.

“We’ve been successful in stopping your labor for the moment, but it’s likely to recur. I’m starting you on medications to help your
baby’s lungs mature.”

“No blood or blood products, right?”

“Right.”

Mike pulled up a chair
, and then said, “Is it okay if I call you Melinda?”

“Of course, Dr. Cooper.”

“Everything depends on when you deliver. Do you know if it’s a girl or a boy?”

“It’s a boy, Dr. Cooper.”

“If we must deliver him any time soon, he’s too small to survive. The longer we delay delivering him, the better his chances. Right now, approaching the twenty-fourth week, he weighs about 750 grams. Babies this small come into the world unprepared, and more often than not, have serious medical problems.”

Mike glanced over at Harvey, who was shaking his head in the ‘no’ gesture.

“As long as blood isn’t involved, we’re okay.”

Harvey shook his head with
more vigor.

“I can’t predict now what your baby might need…”

“You’re so typical, Dr. Cooper,” Melinda said, “and arrogant enough to tell me what to believe.”

“I’m not telling you what to believe. I only want to be prepared to save your child.”

“Thank you, Doctors. Maybe we’ve come to the wrong place. I’m going to confer with my advisors. I’ll let you know my decision.”

“This is a hospital,” Mike
said, “not a prison. You’re free to come and go as you wish.”

Back at the nurses’ station with Melinda’s chart, Harvey said, “What’s gotten into you? You’re going to screw this whole thing up.”

“If you think I’m going to let her kill this baby…”

“Hello—remember me—your friend and mentor? Harvey’s the name,” he said, shaking Mike’s hand.

“Very funny, Harvey.”

“Stop being a schmuck. Why force the issue now, when we can only lose? You think I want that baby to die?”

“No, Harvey, but…”

“No ‘buts’. Everything I do with them is strategic. I’m setting this thing up in a way so that, when the time comes, we can protect this baby. If you continue this, she’s going to sign out AMA ( Against Medical Advice ).”

“But, Harvey…”

“What’s with the ‘buts’? I’ve seen the Jehovah’s Witness material on how to manipulate a physician to their demands. In some ways, this is going to be played like a war, with casualties on both sides. That’s part of what all those ‘NO BLOOD’ signs are about.”

“Okay, Harvey, but…”

“You’re stubborn, Mike. Trust the old man, will you?”

Ten days later, Melinda delivered a 1015 gram baby boy. Her delivery was uncomplicated, but the baby was in deep trouble.

When Mike entered the NICU the day after the baby
’s birth, Lisa said, “You’d better get over here, quick.”

“What the matter?”

“His oxygen saturation is falling, and he’s having more trouble breathing.”

Mike looked into the
incubator. The baby was struggling to breathe with gasps and flaring ribs. “Have his labs come back?”

Lisa opened the chart to the lab section,
and then held the page containing blood counts. “His hemoglobin is down to five grams. How can he live with so little blood?”

“He can’t.”

“Every time I look up,” Lisa said, “Melinda is there, staring at me. I feel like I’m in a fishbowl.”

Mike looked up to see Melinda behind the glass window. “Bring her in here.”

“Have you named him?” Mike asked.

“Nathan
—we call him Nathan, for God has given.”

“Look at him, Melinda.
See how he can barely breathe, how he struggles? See how pale he is? I know you don’t want to hear this, but Nathan needs blood.”

Melinda’s disgust was obvious as she stared at Mike. “I knew it would come to this. You people have no respect for anyone’s beliefs
, but your own. I’m arranging to have him moved to a place that respects my wishes.”

“He’s not going anywhere. He’s too sick.” Mike paused
, trying to formulate the words that could alter her intransigence. “Look at him. Don’t you see how sick he is? Don’t you want him to live?”

“Not a
t the cost of his immortal soul.”

“I respect your right to do as you please with your own body, but you don’t have the right to kill your baby.”

“I’m not killing him. I’m saving him.”

“And, I’m saving him from you. You’ll have to leave. I’m applying to the court for permission to transfuse your son.”

“Over my dead body, you will,” she said, lunging for the incubator.

“Are you crazy
?” Mike shouted as he blocked her way, grabbed her arm, and led her out of the NICU. “Call security, and have Ms. Hicks escorted away from the NICU.”

In thirty minutes, the hospital attorney, Al Morris, had the court’s permission for transfusion
. The tiny pack of blood was dripping into the baby’s vein.

Following his ordeal in NICU, Nathan Hicks was ready to go home. After promising not to interfere, Melinda came every day to see her son. She refused to talk with the nursing staff or the physicians.

As Melinda prepared to take Nathan home, Mike approached her. “Please take good care of him. We worked hard to get Nathan this far. The rest is up to you.” Mike hesitated
for a moment, and then said, “Like you, Melinda, my conscience forced me to do what I thought was best for your baby. I won’t apologize.”

Melinda lifted the tiny boy to her chest, turned to face Mike, and whispered, “Thank you for everything, Dr. Cooper.”

Later that day, Mike met Harvey for a drink.

“She actually thanked me.”

“Who woulda thunk it?” Harvey
smiled.