The French Quarter. Ken JD Mask
thank you.”
It was my brother Job and his wife Rose. Job was my law partner in our firm, which we had opened a few years ago, after I passed the Louisiana bar. Out of nowhere, Rose, his wife of five years, appeared at my bedside.
One of the police officers turned to him and said, “No visitors right now.”
“I’m a family member.”
“Me too.”
The nurse said, “He can see some family members. He’s seen you guys enough.”
Job approached my bedside. I felt like this was a direct gift from God, hearing a familiar voice, even though Job and I hadn’t gotten along too famously over the past couple of months. Given the tension in our law practice, I was surprised to feel so much relief just hearing his voice. His wife handed me a rose, something she always did, “I like to give a rose for obvious reasons.” I had heard that many times before. I always thought that it was corny.
She placed it by the bedside, realizing I couldn’t grab it.
Job was 6’2”, chunky, thick, dark brown skin with dark balding fine hair. He was two shades darker than me, but we had the same head, people used to say. I had been in better shape than him for most of our lives. He had just made 43 and I was 11 years younger. His mid-section reflected his 5 years of marriage, and my thin, cut frame reflected my bachelor years. Standing side-by-side, you could tell that I had him by 2 inches. I used to kid him about shedding some stomach for some of my height.
“Man, what’s happening here?” Job glared at the police officers as if to say, “Can you guys leave us alone for a minute?”
The officers didn’t budge.
“Listen, dear, we can figure this stuff out later. Let’s just see how he’s doing. What’s the nurse saying? Can we get a doctor in here?” Rose turned.
The nurse was still in the room and said, “Yes, I’ll get his surgeon in just a moment.”
“How you feeling, buddy? I haven’t told anyone yet about what’s going on with you. You know how mom and dad are.”
“I told them,” Rose said calmly.
He looked up at her in an angry, ‘courtroom-type’ way and said, “Lord, Jesus.”
“What did you expect me to do? They had to know.”
I turned, looking at the clock: 3:30. Didn’t know if it was in the morning or afternoon, just that it was 3:30. Then I closed my eyes.
Moments later, I was awakened by the shaking of an unfamiliar hand and a voice I’d never heard before.
“How you doing? How you doing?” I saw a 60-ish, graying plump gentleman in a long white coat opened to reveal a Kano Branon suit and l’Homme Slice tie. “How you doing, son?”
I realized he was some sort of surgeon; several students in surgical scrubs surrounded him, all leaning in towards me. He seemed oblivious to the police officer’s presence, and began to ask me a series of questions.
“Hello, Jake. Dr. Helm.” He stuck out one hairy hand, while the other one held my chart. As he studied the notes he murmured, “Hmmmmm.” He turned to one of the students. “What’s his I and Os? What’s his BUN and creatinine? Does any-body know?”
Then he turned to me and said, “You’re going to be getting outta here soon, son. Whatever happens to you after this, I’m not quite sure. It was just my job to get you fixed up. You’ve undergone a pretty extensive surgery. You’ve been in the hospital for a couple of hours, and probably aren’t quite aware of what’s happened to you. We had to take out a portion of your colon, but you’re going to be all right. You’re going to be just fine.”
He placed the clipboard at the bed’s end, and then cleared his throat. “Can you wriggle your toes for me?”
I looked down at my feet, peeking out from under the white covers. I stretched out the big toe of my left foot, reaching towards the sky, and lifted my left leg, almost involuntarily. Then I spread out the toes of my right foot. They were covered partially in a sheet, and lifted it to the sky as well.
“Very good.” Dr. Helm turned to me. “Now squeeze my hand.” He put his fingers in my right hand and I squeezed them. Then he said, “Here’s the other one.” I realized that the intravenous tubing was in my hand, but I gripped with this hand strongly as well. He said, “Ah, very good now.” Then he said, “Open your mouth and say Ahhhh.” He took a wooden object from his front coat pocket and a flashlight from his right side pocket and then shone the light in my mouth. He said to me again, “Say ahhh and stick your tongue out.” With a warm smile, he looked down into my throat.
Repeating, “You’re going to be just fine.” He patted me on my head, not like a pitiful pat nor like a dog pat, but like a fatherly pat. Then he turned to the police officers and said to them, “Can you guys give us a break? We’re trying to have rounds here.”
The police officers just stood there, looking silently at me, intermittently staring at each other.
One of the assistants entered the room again and said to him, “His laboratory data looks okay. His BUN and creatinine are within normal limits, and his Is and Os have been good for the past 24 hours.”
The surgeon turned to me again and said reassuringly, “You’re going to be just fine, buddy.” He turned smoothly, placing the clipboard chart at the end of the bed, and left the room. The rest of his team scurried behind.
Moments later, Job and Rose came back in, sighing in unison.
“Boy, you went out on us there real quick. Good thing we got a chance to talk to you first, though. How you feeling?”
I nodded my head as if to say I’m doing okay. Then I tried to sit up.
The nurse who was still in the room said, “Be still, honey. Be still. You’ve got a long way to go yet.”
Rose broke in, “It’s time for us to go to church, dear. You know we’ve got to go to church pretty soon. We’ve got to head on back to New Orleans.”
Job turned to Rose. “Listen, honey. Church can wait for a moment. It’s my brother.”
“Honey, you know we’ve got to go to church, you being a deacon and all. We’ve got an important meeting at the church tonight. We can pray and talk to him later.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Then he turned to me and said, “You know how I am, trying to be a minister in this church and practicing law. Well, I got to go, bro. I’ll talk to you later. We’ve got a lot of things to figure out. I don’t think you realize what’s going on here.”
I nodded to him and waved my hand goodbye. The nurse walked them out. I heard her mumbling something to them. She didn’t seem desperate or serious; it was something said in parting, nothing informational.
I shut my eyes.
Chapter 5
It’s amazing how quickly bad news spreads. I looked up, thinking that my next visitor would be a physician or some nursing assistant, but in walked Pepper Louise. Behind her was Iris French. Strange that the two would arrive to visit me at the same time. I closed my eyes as quickly as I had opened them, hoping they would think I was asleep, and perhaps would not want to be disturbed.
Strange. I found myself not wanting visitors, particularly these two—not these two together. Had they talked? Did they know? I didn’t need any confusion, drama at this point in my life. There was too much going on.
“Hi, baby,” Pepper grabbed my hand. In her mid-40s, she looked like she was in her mid-20s, pretty brown, short black curly hair, not too much make-up, bright dark black eyes,