Trapped (36 page)

Chapter Seventy-Two

Baby Aaron improved each day.

When Harvey discharged Lisa on the morning of day
five post op, she returned home long enough to change clothes and rush back to Brier.

Except for sleeping at home, Lisa remained at the baby’s side through each step of his recovery. He progressed from ventilator
to high oxygen support, to normal oxygen, and to room air. He moved from the cave of the incubator with heat and blue light to a normal crib, and he passed from gourmet formula to breast milk via feeding tube, and then to Lisa’s breasts.

While Lisa had her own preconc
eptions about breastfeeding, she was unprepared for its reality. She’d been pumping regularly for tube feedings, so her breasts were engorged. She held him to her chest, but, at first, while so small and so frail, he showed no interest. Today, for the first time, he showed enthusiasm.

“Try to time his open mouth so
that he gets more than the nipple,” Sharon said. “It’ll be more comfortable that way.”

Lisa held him in her arms, exposed her breast, and
, as the nipple passed by his mouth, he turned and opened his mouth to feed. She leaned forward just at the right time as he latched onto the nipple, as well as a good amount of surrounding breast.

Lisa gasped as he sucked forcefully. Moments of slight discomfort faded almost immediately
, and she enjoyed one of nature’s surprises, the intense pleasure of feeding her son.

Phoebe was visiting on break from ICU, when Nora came into the NICU. “He’s a beautiful boy. He looks just like Michael. Can I feed him?”

“Only if your breasts are full, Mother.”

Nora sat upright, shocked.

“I’m kidding, Mother. He may be hungry
, now. Ask the nurse for a bottle of my milk. It’s in the refrigerator. Warm it, and see if he’ll feed.”

When Nora held and fed the baby, she smiled
, and looked completely at ease for the first time in a long while.

“You look good, Mom. Feeding the baby looks natural for you.”

“I did it four times, and loved it.”

After the baby finished, he lay asleep in Nora’s arms.

“Can I talk with you about Michael?” Nora asked.

“Of course.”

“It’s never been an easy subject for us, has it?”

“No, but go ahead.”

“These are questions, not suggestions, or criticisms.”

“Nora, please.”

“Tell me how he’s doing.”

“Most of his medical problems have subsided. We
’re left with the physical and emotional problems of this locked-in syndrome. I know I’m not the most objective observer, but I think there’s been subtle improvement. I’m pretty sure he moved his index finger one afternoon.”

“Has anyone else seen that?”

“No, but there’s more. He’s attentive for longer periods of time, and I think his eyes are moving better.”

“Are there any signs that the medication is working?”

“Only if what I’ve observed relates to the Viagra.”

“What does he want to do?”

“He’s suffering, Mom. He says he can’t take it much longer. He wants me to…”

“To do what?”

“You know, Nora.”

Nora reddened. “This isn’t like before. He’s in no condition to make a life and death decision.”

“I agree with you. We can’t really understand what he’s going through, but if there’s a chance he’ll survive and improve, I’m not going to deprive him of the opportunity.”

Lisa hesitated,
and then continued, “He’s never going to forgive me. We made promises to each other—I can’t stand the thought of letting him down.”

“You’re not letting him down. If he gets through this, he’ll forgive you.”

“I’m not so sure, Mom.”

Nora grasped Lisa’s hand. “Trust me on this. When he gets better, and he will get better, forgiveness won’t be an issue.”

That afternoon in the ICU, Carter Reynolds came to Mike’s
bedside. “How’s he doing, Lisa?”

“It’s subtle, but I think he’s getting better.”

Reynolds examined Mike carefully, but all he could get from him were yes and no answers. He refused to look at the alphabet, and, when the neurosurgeon asked him to try to move, nothing happened.

“He’s depressed,” Lisa
said. “Maybe you should increase the dose of Viagra, or put him on antidepressants.”

Reynolds looked at Mike
, and then at Lisa, and said, “We’re having this conversation with the expectation that Mike will overhear and understand what we’re saying. I have no problem with manipulating his medications or trying something new, but I’d be less than honest if I said that I was hopeful. In addition, medically he’s so stable that we can’t justify keeping him in the ICU, or even the Respiratory Care Unit.”

“It would be a mistake to remove him from the environment and the people he knows.
It’s an additional assault that he doesn’t need. Where would he go?”

“Don’t think me cruel or insensitive, but we do have long
-term ventilator support units for those in coma, or a persistent vegetative state. He’d get excellent care, there.”

“Mike
is in neither state. He’s aware, he thinks, and suffers. You’re out of your mind if you think I’m going to let you put him in one of those places. It’s totally inappropriate.”

Reynolds reddened. “You may not have a choice in the matter.”

Lisa turned to Mike. “Did you hear what Carter said?”

Yes.

“What do you think?” She asked.

I don’t give a shit. Let me die in peace. That’s all I want.

Reynolds stood. “I’m sorry. None of us has absolute freedom in this system. The hospital has rules, and, ultimately we must follow them. I’ll increase the Viagra and begin Prozac. I’m starting the paperwork for a transfer to a long-term respiratory care unit. That’ll take a few weeks. Show me something in that time, and I’ll reconsider.”

“It’ll take two or three weeks before we see the effects of the Prozac.”

“I know,” Reynolds said. “I’m sorry.”

Chapter Seventy-Three

One morning, two weeks after delivery, Brad said, “It’s time to boot the freeloader, Lisa. If you’re ready, I’m discharging the baby today.”

“If you’re sure it’s okay?”

“Look at him. He’s thriving. You can give him everything he needs.”

Lisa hugged Brad. “Thanks for everything. You were great.”

She went to each nurse, aid, and orderly, hugging and thanking them. Finally, she found Sharon in the nurse’s lounge. “There you are. We wouldn’t leave without first saying goodbye to you. I couldn’t have made it without you.”

“I’m so happy,” Sharon
said.

“Come over Friday after work. I’ve been l
usting for a special bottle of chardonnay that I’ve been saving to share with you and Phoebe.”

“I’ll be there.”

Lisa spent the late morning and early afternoon with Mike. He listened,
and gave yes and no answers to her questions. Nothing had changed physically or emotionally. Lisa found it harder to feign optimism in the face of his dogged depression.

At three in the afternoon, the end of her shift, Phoebe wheeled Lisa to her car and they loaded the baby paraphernalia in the back seat.

As Lisa stepped into the front seat with the baby, Phoebe stared at her with disbelief. “What in hell are you doing?”

“What?”

“Get that baby into his car seat. Nora spent a small fortune for the best Britax car seat available.”

“I just don’t want to let him go.”

“Fine,” said Phoebe, “start walking.”

As they joined the line of cars trying to enter the eastbound tube of the Caldecott
Tunnel, Lisa kept reaching back to the baby. When he became agitated and whimpered, she turned to Phoebe. “Pull over somewhere so I can feed him.”

“I wish Mike could see this,” Lisa
said. “He’d be excited and proud.”

“What’s happening with the long
-term respiratory unit transfer?”

“It should happen this week sometime. I
can’t do anything to stop it.”

“How long will Sandy stay with you?”

“A week or two. She’s been helpful, but I won’t be at ease until she’s gone. I’m going to have to put her on the bus to get rid of her. Thank God that Brier Hospital has on-site child care. That way, I can get back to work, have him close for feedings, and I won’t worry about who’s taking care of him.”

Jack had arranged for a meeting the next day with Lisa and Ross Cohen, Brier’s most experienced psychiatrist.

“You want me to talk him out of his suicidal thoughts?” Ross
asked.

“I don’t care what you do
, or how you do it,” Lisa said, “I’m not ready to give up.”

“So we’re talking about you, his family
, friends, and his care givers, not about Mike, or what’s best for him.”

“I know there’s a purpose to your comments, Ross,” Jack Byrnes
said, “but, except for Mike’s unusual circumstances, it’s an ordinary problem. We want him to live, to get better, and to be part of our lives. He wants to die. I’m no shrink, but I know the basics. People decide to end their lives for two reasons: loss of control, and loss of hope. Mike surely has both. If you need a biochemical explanation, he has altered brain chemistry, too.”

“I don’t know what altered brain chemistries means,” Ross
said. “I’m not sure which is the chicken, and which is the egg. One thing I do know for sure is that people don’t choose suicide. They make that decision when pain overcomes their resources for coping with it.”

“Please,” Lisa
begged. “Help him.”

“We can drug him or shock him, but
, considering his condition, I don’t think any of it will help for long. The present controls his perceptions of the future. It may be that depressed people have a better and more realistic view of the world, while we, wishing Mike to get better, cook the hard facts about his prognosis.”

“We can organize grand rounds on the topic, Ross,” Jack
said, “but, in the meanwhile, tell us what to do.”

“Let him know that you love him, Lisa, and that you and his son need him. Unfortunately, this is a two-edged sword
, since it defines what he’s lost, yet leaves him in despair of the future. You need to underscore and enunciate every positive element of Mike’s condition, and focus his attention on any improvement, no matter how slight. This will give him the tools he needs to delude himself about the future, just like the rest of us. There’s substantial evidence in the psychiatric literature that the key to mental health is our ability to delude ourselves.”

“Anything else
?” Lisa asked.

“I’ll up the Prozac
, or switch him to Zoloft,” Ross said, “and I’ll sit with him to see if I can help.”

Chapter Seventy-Four

In four days, Roberta was on the scheduled for transfer to Carter House the drug rehabilitation program in Calistoga.

Harvey held her hand. “Hang in there for a few more days.”

She looked into Harvey’s eyes. “I have a big favor to ask.”

“Of course.”

“I mean, a really big favor…it would mean the world to me.”

“Go ahead.”

“Before I go to Calistoga, I want to visit Lisa.”

H
arvey immediately shook his head, ‘no’.

“Hear me out. I’ll agree to any terms, guards, handcuffs, or whatever. I just want to see her to see how she’s doing and to thank her.”

“I don’t know.”

“Please Daddy.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

When Lisa’s doorbell rang, she knew that it was Roberta. While she was exhausted, she agreed to Harvey’s request.

When Lisa opened the door, Roberta stood handcuffed to a burly police officer. “It's okay, officer. Please give me a few moments alone with your prisoner. I promise that she’s going nowhere.”

“Sorry, Ma’am,” he said. “Orders.”

“After pleading and explaining, he relented.
“Twenty minutes, no more. Don’t make me regret my decision.”

Roberta sat on the sofa while Lisa was sitting in an easy chair holding and rocking her baby. “You look tired, Lisa.”

“You have no idea.”

“I was so happy to hear about your baby. You don’t do things the easy way, do you?”

“No, but it doesn’t matter much now. Here, come look at Aaron.”

Roberta walked over to Lisa and stared at the baby.

Lisa offered the baby. “Would you like to hold him?

Roberta shrank back with her eyes blinking and her hands trembling. “I couldn’t…”

“Of course you can,” Lisa said as she plunked the baby into Roberta’s arms.” Lisa paused. “Relax, he won’t break.”

Roberta sat back on the sofa and rocked the baby as he slept.

“It's a good fit.”

“Fit?”

“Yes, you and a baby. It looks so natural.”

Roberta’s face tightened and she blushed. “
What kind of mother would I make?”

The baby stirred. “
See, babies are good at reading body language—you’re upset and he feels it.”

“I’m sorry. Take him back.”

“No way. I’m enjoying the break.”

“How’s Mike…I mean, Dr Cooper.”

“We’re hopeful.”

“I just wanted to thank you before my incarceration. What you did meant a lot to me.”

“You would have done the same.”

“Maybe someday,” Roberta said.

“I wish I could send you off with some words of wisdom, but if you think of Carter House as a prison, you’re setting yourself up for disaster. These people are pros, and they’ve seen every curve you can throw at them, so just swallow your hubris, and work with them. I know you well enough to believe that you have the intelligence and the character to beat this thing. Your whole life is ahead of you, if you’ll only give it a chance.”

The officer opened the door. “Time.”

Lisa placed her baby in the bassinette and hugged Roberta. “I’ll always be here for you, and Mike, too.”

“I can’t hear from anyone for the first two months,” Roberta said. “Will you write me?”

“Of course.” She paused. “And, you’ll probably get out in time to babysit for us.”

Roberta Russo remained in isolation. They permitted no visitors for the first sixty days in Carter House, the residential drug treatment program.

Harvey and Teri made the long drive to Calistoga, where the huge Victorian home sat amidst the prime vineyards of Northern California.

They met with Roberta in the ornate sitting room. She wore a long-sleeve white blouse with pearl buttons, and a knee-length black skirt. She’d gained twelve pounds, and the scaly sores on her face had disappeared. Her chestnut hair was in a bob.

Teri embraced her daughter. “It’s so good to see you, Robby. You look wonderful, and you cut your hair.”

As Robby held her mother, she extended her hand toward Harvey. She looked into his eyes. “Daddy, I’m so glad you came. I missed you guys.”

Harvey grasped her arm
, and then embraced his daughter, his eyes filling with emotion.

After Robby released him, she said, “Let’s take a walk. It’s so stuffy in here
, and we have some beautiful paths nearby.”

They walked in the early afternoon sun in silence
, at first, but when they stopped to sit at a bench under a white spruce tree, Robby said, “I’m not going to tell you that this is easy, because it isn’t, but it’s the best thing that’s happened for me in a while.”

“We only wanted the best…,” Harvey
said.

“
It’s okay, Daddy. You did the right thing.”

“What do you do here?” Teresa
asked.

“Well, beside chores and regularly scheduled exercise, we have group sessions twice a day
. I get individual therapy three of four days a week. They say I shouldn’t go overboard with promises and assurances, but I haven’t felt so hopeful about a future in years.”

“How long will you be here?” Teresa
asked.

“Twelve months minimum, but I’ll stay as long as it takes.” She hesitated a moment
, and then continued, “I want both of you to listen carefully to me, and please don’t respond. Just listen.”

“Of course,” Harvey
said.

“I need t
o apologize to both of you…”

Teresa
started to respond, when Roberta raised her palm to stop her.

“Please
, Mother, hear me out. It’s part of my treatment.”

Roberta stood, placed her arms behind her back
, and then paced near the tree. Finally, she turned again toward her parents. “I know you love me. I know I put you through hell, and I’m sorry.” Tears rolled down her cheeks. “You never gave up on me, even as I pushed you both away. I’ll forever be grateful. I hope someday to make you proud of me.”

Harvey and Teresa’s eyes filled as Harvey said, “I’ve never been more proud of you than I am right now. Your mother and I love you.”

Lisa moved the crib into her bedroom to keep the baby close. She’d decided to hang a developmental mobile over it. She selected a
Music in Motion
type, designed to encourage her baby to track its colorful shapes. In addition, it played a variety of selections from classical, to lullabies, to calming ocean sounds.

“I love that mobile,” Phoebe
said. “If I ever take the plunge again, that’s the one I want. It relaxes me to look at it. It must do the same for you.”

“Relax
? I don’t have time to relax. I thought I was tired before, but now he’s succeeded in wearing me out.”

“How often is he getting up at night?”

“Only every ninety minutes, or so. I know I shouldn’t do it, but I’ve fallen asleep with him on my breast. When he wakes and starts to feed again, I have enough time to switch boobs.”

“Well, don’t worry. It took Max only a year to sleep through the night.”

Lisa hesitated a moment, and then said, “I miss him so much.”

“I know.”

“It feels so hopeless. I’m starting to dread my visits with Mike—I’m so ashamed.”

“I don’t know how you’ve maintained your energy and optimism this long.”

“I love him, Phoebe. I want to be with him, but how many times can you repeat the same words, the pleas, and the encouragement? I’m having trouble getting the words out.”

“Has his depression improved?”

“No. He still wants to die. Thank God, he’s stopped asking me to do it.”

When Lisa came in to see Mike the next morning, she knew something was wrong. “Did anything happen last night?” She asked Carla Watts, his nurse.

“Not a thing. He’s been less communicative
, though.”

Lisa moved to Mike’s side, bent over
, and kissed him on his inert lips. “Hi, Sweetheart.”

Mike’s brown eyes fixed on Lisa’s, held them for a moment, and then closed.

I want to be angry
, Mike thought,
to strike out, to do anything, but my life is reduced to a blink, and a literal flick of my eyes. To live means to anticipate, to think of a future, a tomorrow. In my own small way, I do that. My life is a pendulum that first swings one way toward the serenity of silence, the fading twilight of consciousness, and the dream-like intoxication of morphine, and then it swings the other way toward pain, frustration, and nothingness. Only death can still its momentum.

“Please,” Lisa
cried, “don’t shut me out. I need you. Our son, Aaron, needs you. Don’t do this to us.”

Don’t do what
? He thought.
I can’t do anything. I can’t even commit suicide.

Lisa, please,
leave me alone
.

“I can’t, Michael. This means too much to us.”

Go away.

Alone in my consciousness, I reach deep into memory to view the highlights video of my life. Like a method actor, I can recreate the physical events, and relive the experiences. It’s all I have left.

I see Lisa coming down the aisle. She’s radiant as she smiles at me and grasps my hand.

I inhale the salty aroma of the evening Caribbean breeze, and feel Lisa’s warmth as we lie on the beach at St. Lucia. When our bodies come together as one, the world around us fades away.

I feel Lisa’s warm hand in mine as we walk with Daisy after dinner.

“
Dammit, talk to me,” Lisa yelled as she prodded my chest.

My heartbeat rises
, and I feel my body tremble. My mind reels, and then fixes with steely concentration. I’m losing control as my mind boils over in fury against the intrusion.

Must I sacrifice my few moments of quiet memory to this heartless disease?

My rage explodes against everything I’ve lost.

My mind shouts, enough
—enough—enough.

I can’t breathe…

Get me out of here!

Please, God. Get me out of here!

Lisa turned to face the respirator and trembled.

Something’s wrong
, she thought.

Lisa called Mike’s nurse, Carla. “Something’s not right with the ventilator.”

Carla studied the panel, shook her head, and then paused. “Lisa, he’s not on demand—he’s breathing on his own!”

Mike flush
ed, and trembled. Pearls of sweat blossomed on his face. The monitor showed his pulse at 160 beats per minute, and his blood pressure was up to 180/100. Alarmed, she grasped his hand, and said, “It’s okay Mike—it’s okay.”

Let me go
! Mike’s mind shouted as he grasped for something—anything, to escape.

“Carla,” Lisa
shouted, “come over here, something’s happening.”

As Carla
approached the bed, Lisa started to back away, when she found that something was holding her hand. She pulled the blanket covering her hand. Mike was grasping her hand. Lisa tried to pull away, but Mike refused to let go. “It’s Mike, he’s holding me. He moved.”

“What?” Carla
asked, staring at the two hands.

“Mike
—Mike—,” Lisa said. “Look at me, please look at me.”

He opened his eyes.

“Your hand moved! It’s holding me.”

No.

“Yes, you moved it. Concentrate now, and open your hand.”

Lisa and Carla stared at the clasped hands
, and then, gradually, Mike’s fingers opened.

Tears streamed down Lisa’s face. “You did it
! You moved.”

I’m dreaming
, again
, Mike thought for a moment, but then he knew it was real.

Lisa bent over to kiss his lips
, but this time she felt some resistance, some active muscle tone. She pulled back, staring at her husband, watching as his mouth moved. She sobbed as she read his lips. In slow, but distinct motion, they said, “I love you.”