Chapter Seventy-Six
Lucky made a harsh gasp as the wiry guy placed his hands on Lucky's throat and squeezed hard with digging fingers. The two men toppled and rolled on the floor repeatedly, as first the wiry guy was on top and then Lucky. The man's large hands never left the span of Lucky's neck, and Lucky started to feel woozy from the lack of oxygen. Lucky fiercely grabbed at the wiry guy's hands and tried to pry his fingers away from his throat, but the stronger man persisted and banged the back of Lucky's head onto the floor.
A hot, violent surge of rage flashed through Lucky, and he made a lightening thrust upward with his knee connecting firmly into the man's groin, finally feeling a release on his throat and the welcome gulp of fresh air into his lungs as the man fell away from him, groaning and gasping. Lucky drew in another jerky rasp of air, jumped up and shouted in an enraged voice, "Don't you EVER touch me, you son of a b!tch!" He drew back his right fist and repeatedly pounded the wiry guy in the stomach and on the face. Suddenly, in the middle of a punch, Lucky felt a wave of fear and dizziness cast over him, and his eyes rolled back into his head as he sank to the floor beside the other man.
By this time, four large, muscular male orderlies had been alerted, and they rushed toward the two fighters, with their only intention to break up the fight, separate and restrain the violent young men. Two men descended on Lucky and dragged him up from the floor. One man held his arms as the other grabbed his legs, and they picked up his thrashing body. Unfamiliar with his chart, background or even name, the one orderly said loudly, "Let's get him into restraints, he's still fighting." They carried him to a room not far from the recreation area and dumped him on his back onto a table, pausing only to fasten his wrists and ankles to its hard surface. Lucky's eyes were closed, and he seemed to be fighting his restraints as his right arm and leg jerked. "Call a nurse," the one man said to the other. "She can get orders for a sedative," he said. "Shouldn't someone stay with him?" asked the other orderly. "Nah," he replied. "He's not going anywhere. Let's see if they need help with the other guy."
Lucky lay all alone in the room on his back, deep in the throes of seizure. When a nurse showed up about five minutes later with his chart, he'd started vomiting and was choking in his prone, restrained position. The nurse hurriedly turned his head to the side, but he continued to gasp and choke. She shouted out into the hall for someone to come and assist her, and she frantically unbuckled the restraints on his right arm and leg and turned him over onto his side. When a second nurse approached, he was still desperately hacking and wheezing.
"Give me his chart," the more senior nurse ordered. Her eyes widened when she read that not only was this trauma patient not to be restrained but that he also had a seizure disorder. "Who brought him in here?" she questioned angrily. "This patient is not to be restrained, and he was left alone on his back, apparently in the middle of a seizure. He could have died," she stated. "Look at those choke marks on his neck. He probably has trouble breathing anyway. Unfasten those other restraints, and let's see if we can wake him up. Call his physician immediately."
~*~*~*~
Lucky first felt something soft, yet rough and wet rubbing on his face. Then, he heard voices talking and a rush of bright light assaulted his eyes when he opened them. He quickly closed them again in response to the pain. The nurse who was washing him off noticed that his eyelids flickered open and then came his soft moan, signaling that he was waking up. Lucky began moaning louder as Dr. Jim Perkins entered the room. Jim had an angry, set look to his face because the nurse who called him had given him the full story.
Lucky was still on his side with his eyes closed. "Lucky," said Jim gently as he laid a hand on the kid's shoulder. "Are you okay?" Lucky's brow knit in confusion, and his eyes flickered open to the sight of Jim's face. He moaned and closed his eyes again as his head exploded in pain. "Oww," he said softly. "Where am I?" An uneasy wave of memory came back to him, and he weakly threw a punch at his assailant. Jim ducked just in time.
"Whoa, Lucky, it's Jim. I'm not going to hurt you," he said louder. "What happened to you out there?" he asked, noting Lucky's split, bloody lip and bruised, reddened neck. Lucky opened his mouth to speak, but started coughing and choking, making it hard for him to draw in a breath. Finally, when Lucky stopped, Jim said, "I need to listen to your lungs," as he drew out his stethoscope. Lucky started coughing again while Jim tried to listen to his lung sounds. He stepped back and said to Lucky, "You've aspirated a small amount of fluid into your lungs, but your coughing is expelling it. Stay on your side for now and cough if you need to."
Lucky still wasn't sure where he was or why he felt so bad, and he started crying softly out of fear, confusion and pain. "Continue cleaning him up so he's more comfortable," Jim instructed a nurse. "And send someone for clean clothes for him," he added, noting that Lucky's bladder had emptied during his seizure. "I'm going to stay with him until he's more fully awake and coherent."
~*~*~*~
Jim wheeled Lucky down the hall toward his room. Lucky's head rested wearily on his hand. When Lucky groaned, Jim stopped the chair and asked him, "How are you doing? Do you want to stop for a minute?" Lucky sighed and shook his head as he motioned in the direction of his room.
~*~*~*~
Jim was seated on the teal vinyl chair in Lucky's room, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, watching the kid sleep and waiting for Kevin to arrive. He was half snoozing when Kevin finally entered the room. The movement startled him, and he jumped in his seat. Kevin wordlessly motioned with his thumb pointed to the hall, and Jim followed him out of the room.
Kevin's red face glared as he paced in the hall running his hand through his hair. He shook his head and glanced at Jim. "I need to work out this anger before I talk to him," said Kevin. "I just finished speaking with some of the most incompetent people I've met in a long time. I almost lost a patient because no one bothered to read his chart or notice the difference between a seizure and resisting arrest. Boy, I ripped them a new one," he laughed bitterly, his face grim and tight.
Jim tittered and shook his head at the image of an enraged Kevin on the rampage. Kevin stopped pacing and settled against a wall. "At least one orderly has lost his job because of this," he stated. "I've just completed an investigation, and apparently it was self-defense. The other patients nearby claim that a male patient was acting aggressively toward Lucky, and the kid fought back. I want to hear Lucky's version of the incident, though. Did you have the chance to talk to him? How was his behavior?"
Jim shook his head no. "He woke up around the time I arrived, but he was still very disoriented. He woke up swinging," said Jim. "I had to duck. But, no, he wasn't up for a discussion. When I took him back to his room, he fell asleep right away."
Kevin stroked his chin. "Why don't you join me for a break, Jim? I'm too worked up to talk to a patient."
~*~*~*~
When Kevin returned to Lucky's room, the boy was curled up on his side, his hands gripping a pillow tightly against his body. He was sound asleep and breathing regularly and shallowly. "Lucky," said Kevin as he gently shook his shoulder to wake him. Lucky opened his eyes and frowned when he saw Kevin. "Lucky I need to talk to you about what happened earlier," said Kevin with a concerned tone of voice.
Lucky rubbed the back of his hand against his eyes and scooted up to a sitting position against the head of his bed. He carefully tried to arrange his hair so it wasn't so messed up. Kevin walked over to the teal vinyl chair and took his seat, pulling it closer to the bed while he crossed his long legs at the knee. Lucky quickly bent over the side of the bed and retrieved his sneakers, pulling them on his feet and carefully fastening the Velcro to the sides of the shoes. He sat indian style on the surface of the bed and looked at Kevin blankly yet expectantly.
"Lucky, you participated in an altercation in the recreation room," Kevin stated. "How did you come to be involved in this?"
Lucky sighed and looked down at his legs as his right hand played with the blue-jeaned seam resting over his calf. "Some guy tried to sit on a couch with me and two women. There wasn't any room, so I told him there was an empty chair nearby. He blocked my view of the TV and called me um…fag-boy or rock star or something like that."
Kevin's right eyebrow raised. "How did you respond to that?" he questioned.
Lucky scowled. "I didn't respond. I told him to back off, and I moved away a few inches on the couch so I could see the television. I ignored him, the bastard." Lucky sneered. "I guess he didn't like being ignored because he grabbed me by the left arm and pulled me up from the couch. I yelled at him to get his hands off of me, and I tried to knock his hand off of my arm." Lucky paused to gently stroke his bust lip, and he got a faraway look in his eyes. "He hit me hard on the mouth, and I fell down. You can see what he did to me," Lucky explained as his pointed to his face. "I…uh…called him a name or two, and started to get up off the floor when he rushed me and started choking me and bashing the back of my head onto the floor. We wrestled around a bit, but I couldn't breathe, he had such a choke on my throat. I tried to pry his hands off of my neck, but he was too strong." Lucky grew agitated and rubbed his hand on his throat. Kevin noticed that there were deep red marks and bruises there. Lucky didn't resume talking, and he angrily hit the soles of his shoes with his curled knuckles. He took in a deep breath and coughed with a rough, raspy sound.
"What happened next?"
Lucky's face contorted as he continued. "I did like any girl would do, I kneed him in the balls." Kevin brought his hand to mouth to hide the smile that escaped. "I pushed him off of me, and then after I breathed a couple of gulps of air, I started pounding him. And that's all I remember until I woke up and saw Jim."
"You do realize you had another seizure," said Kevin.
Lucky nodded and rolled his eyes. "Yes, that's obvious. Only I don't know what happened to me. How did I get from the recreation area to that pther room?" he asked. "And why is everyone making such a fuss? Did I do something wrong?" Lucky's eyes looked haunted and worried as they nervously swept around the room to avoid Kevin's gaze.
"Several orderlies broke up your fight, but by then you were already in a seizure," explained Kevin. "They weren't familiar with your case and carried you to a room to restrain you. They thought you were fighting back, but of course you weren't. While you were restrained, you vomited and almost choked to death, so that's why everyone is so concerned about this. No, you didn't do anything wrong," Kevin reassured Lucky. "You could cool down your hot temper a degree or two, but other than that, you behaved appropriately."
"Kevin, I want out of here," Lucky said, pounding his fist on his knee. "I don't belong here. I want to concentrate on regaining my mental abilities, and I can't do that if people are picking fights with me over who sits on the couch or what TV program to watch."
Kevin regarded Lucky closely for a few seconds before speaking. "I think it's time to set up a new treatment plan. Why don't we meet with Tony tomorrow afternoon, as soon as I can coordinate a time?"
Lucky brightened. "Okay."
~*~*~*~
"My first day back, and I get a phone call from Kevin that Lucky's not only been in a major fistfight with another patient, but that's he's suffered another seizure, and oh, yeah, almost dies because he was left in a room alone, strapped to a table." Tony cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder as he ripped open envelopes from the pile of mail that had accumulated during his vacation.
"What?" asked Bobbie worriedly. "How is he?"
"Other than a busted lip, he's fine," replied Tony. "Apparently Lucky's old fashioned knee to the groin trick worked wonders. Kevin said it was self-defense. He wants to meet with us tomorrow to talk about a new treatment plan. I'm hoping that we can arrange for Lucky to be released to a day treatment facility."
"Tony, do you think he's ready for that step?"
"Yes. He still needs to be watched closely, and he'll require counseling for a long period of time, but Kevin has been impressed with his progress over the last few weeks. He's not suicidal or experiencing depression. There's really no need for him to be in an inpatient facility. I'd like to work with him more closely to help him heal his brain injury, and it would be great if he could get back on the computer. Lord knows we need him at the free clinic."
"So will you have him living with you again? Are you up for that? It's quite a commitment."
"No pun intended?" Tony laughed. "I'm fine with it. I don't know how Lucky would like living in the Jones psychiatric center. He'd have to be willing to make some compromises and give up some of his independence."
"I was thinking it might be a good idea for all of us to attend family counseling for a short period of time," stated Bobbie. "We're trying to combine a family with different ages, backgrounds and problems. And, I'm not exactly sure how to discuss certain topics with the younger children, like what do we say about Lucky's scars or his need for medications? I want to be honest with them, but not scare them with information they can't handle."
Tony snorted. "We're going to be keeping the GH psych facilities in business. But you're right. Maybe a few sessions would prevent future problems. I'm planning to keep Lucky so busy, he won't have time to feel bad. A combination of mental and physical activity is good for anyone. He's been vegetating too long in the hospital."
~*~*~*~
Emily danced around her room and sang an improvisational song, an Emily original. "Lorenzo, Lorenzo," she sang. "I love Lorenzo, and he loves me too." She picked up a silk tied dyed scarf and waved it merrily in the air, then pretended to be a belly dancer, whisking the sheer fabric seductively over her body while she looked in the mirror and imagined Lucky as her special, captive audience of one.
The letter that Lucky had sent her was posted onto her fabric bulletin board by her desk, the sheet of paper firmly encased by crisscrossed rows of pink ribbon. Emily had been on cloud nine since yesterday. Everyone from Wendy to Alan to her teachers at school commented on how upbeat and humorous she was. "For a change," Alan had commented sourly.
Emily sighed happily and sat on the edge of her bed, fingering the ruby heart pendant that Lucky had given her for Christmas. "He wrote that I'd always have his heart," she said out loud. She pulled open the top drawer to her white painted nightstand and touched the two silver necklaces with the heart pendants cut in half on a jagged edge. She'd been so depressed when Monica returned Lucky's portion of the pendant while he was catatonic. Monica said that he couldn't keep personal items in the hospital, they might be stolen. That made sense to Emily. Monica had waited a long time before telling her that Lucky was on a sharps ban, and the pendant could be used as a cutting tool. The necklace could choke him as well. She closed the nightstand drawer. Soon, she thought. I'll give you your necklace when you come home.
~*~*~*~
Luke sat on his bed and fingered the envelope from Lucky. "Oh, goodie, more algebra problems," he exclaimed to the cold, concrete walls.
Luke ripped open the envelope and pulled out four sheets of paper. The first three, he set aside, as they contained only corrected algebra problems. The fourth had writing on it, and his heart quickened. A letter, he thought to himself with relief. His eyes devoured the handwriting, but soon he frowned with frustration. Luke set the letter to the side and thought, Son of skunk-butt, part two. Come see the sequel.
He brightened as he stuffed the letter back into the envelope. First, algebra problems, next a letter, skunky as it was. After that, GOTCHA Cowboy, he smiled.
.