The Castaway Hotel: Book 4

Monday morning, we arrived at the hospital before 8:00 a.m. I left the boys in the waiting room while I went off with Pat. I would stay with him until he was taken into the operating room and then I would go back and wait with my other sons until the procedure was completed. Pat was given one of those hospital gowns to put on, which he wasn’t too pleased about, but donned it anyway. He then carefully climbed onto the stretcher and I covered him with a blanket, to help preserve a modicum of modesty.

We waited there for a few minutes before the anesthesiologist came in, and then she talked to Pat for a short time, explaining everything she would be doing, before giving him a shot. It didn’t take long for the injection to start taking effect, so Pat slowly began to drift off. A short time after that, an orderly came in to wheel him to the OR, so I kissed Pat on the forehead, wished him well and watched him go down the hallway until they disappeared from sight. At that point, I went back to wait with my other boys and they began asking me all kinds of questions the minute I walked in. They wanted to know if the operation had already begun, how long it would take and then they wanted me to give them the details of what would be happening. As I was describing what would be going on, Andrew interrupted me with a question.

“Daddy, why do they call it plastic surgery? Will the doctor use plastic to make Pat’s face look better?” The other boys started to chortle, but I made a gesture to them to knock it off and I tried to answer Andrew’s question, using information I discovered while doing my research.

“No, honey, they don’t use any plastic in the operation,” I assured him. “The procedure got that name from a Greek word ‘plastikos,’ which means to mold or give form. They used that name because the doctor molds or gives new form to areas of the body that need improvement, either from a naturally occurring problem, such as a birth defect or from disease, or due to an injury. That’s what they are going to do for Pat. They’re going to take care of those parts of his face that were scarred by the accident at school and give them new form, to make him look better.”

“Then he won’t come back looking like he’s wearing a hockey goalie’s mask?” Andrew followed, quite seriously. Unfortunately, we all ended up losing our stoic front hearing him say that, but we somehow managed to control our mirth.

“No, honey, he won’t look like he’s wearing a mask,” I confirmed, “but Pat’s face will be bandaged, swollen and slightly discolored for a while. Pat will have little scars where the doctor is going to stitch his skin back together, but that will be a lot less obvious than the scars he has now.”

After that exchange, some of the other boys wanted to know how the doctor would accomplish that, so I explained how they would remove the scar tissue and then sew the ends of the healthy skin together, thus reducing the affected area to a smaller scar. I told them the doctor would probably be using self-absorbing stitches, so they wouldn’t have to be removed later, but they would still last long enough to allow the skin to grow back together. I also informed them that the doctor said Pat might need some laser resurfacing later, to smooth out the rough spots on the skin, but only if he discovered during the operation that the areas were too badly affected to use the standard removal process. The boys seemed to be satisfied with my explanation, so we just sat and waited quietly from that point on.

The boys had brought their portable CD players, hand-held games and some magazines and books with them, to keep themselves occupied during our wait, and I tried to read some magazines that I had brought with me as well. I was a bit nervous and really couldn’t concentrate, so later I wasn’t able to recall any of the articles I had read, if that’s what you could actually call what I did. A few hours after the operation had begun, the doctor came out and told me that everything had gone well and he had been able to repair all but one area today. He would use the laser on that section at a later time and smooth out the rough surface, so Pat’s scars would be much less noticeable to others from this point on.

I immediately thanked him for his help and asked what other things I should know. He told me Pat would have to stay overnight, for observation purposes, but I could take him home tomorrow. He also explained some of the areas on Pat’s face would be covered by bandages for a while, so I would need to make sure Pat kept cold compresses on all of the treated areas, in order to control the swelling. He also suggested that Pat would need to keep his head elevated while sleeping, for the same reasons, and Pat would also have to curtail his activities for a few weeks and to try to keep from getting stressed out. If he were to go outdoors, he was to wear a wide-brimmed hat, to shade his face from the sun and he’d have to use at least an SPF 15 on his skin, once the bandages came off. He gave me prescriptions for creams for his face and drops for his eyes, telling me precisely when and how I should use them. When he had finished explaining everything, I thanked him again, before he went about his other duties.

I tried to get the boys to go home at this point, but they wanted to wait around and see Pat first. I did convince them to go with me to the cafeteria and grab a quick bite to eat before that happened and assured them we’d return before Pat did. After a hurried meal, we arrived back at the waiting room just as a nurse came out to tell me that Pat was just coming out from under the anesthesia and I would be allowed to go into the recovery area and speak with him briefly. As I approached Pat, I told him not to try to talk, but to just listen. I quickly assured him all of his brothers were still here and they were going to wait until he was moved into his own room, so they could come in and see him before I took them home. I then told him that after I made sure they had dinner, I’d come back later and stay with him until visiting hours were over. I would go home at that time, but return in the morning, so I’d be there when he was released and allowed to go home.

Pat nodded his understanding and squeezed my hand, to let me know he agreed with what I told him and appreciated everything each of us had done. When Pat was finally moved into a room, we all trooped in to see him, after the doctor assured the nurses it wouldn’t be a problem, as long as we didn’t stay too long. The boys went in to say hello to their brother and give him their support, but it was also so they could assure themselves he was all right.

A large portion of Pat’s face was bandaged and they also had cold packs over the covered areas, but his eyes were open and he knew we were all there for him. He waved weakly at us when we entered, just to let us know he was aware of what was going on and to welcome us. Once the others were convinced that everything had gone well and Pat was going to recover, we agreed it was time for me to take them home. Pat waved at us again as we departed, but both the doctor and I had told him not to speak, to avoid stretching the skin against the stitches. After his brothers said their good-byes and told him they’d be back tomorrow, he closed his eyes and gave in to his fatigue. Thankfully, the boys all felt a little better since they had been able to see him.

We had a pretty quiet dinner, since none of the boys were very talkative. While my sons were cleaning up afterward, I went back to spend some more time with Pat at the hospital. Later, I was informed some of the boys’ girlfriends had called while I was out, but only to learn how Pat was doing. I think they were truly concerned, and didn’t merely call to score points with the boys, as they all knew Pat and were concerned about him. We also got calls from everyone in the family, including those related by blood and those we had just included as kin, as they were all anxious to learn how Pat had made out as well. Seeing many of them would be at Frankie’s party this weekend, they told us they’d see us all then, or maybe even before, but they wanted us to give Pat their best. We assured them we would, and also confirmed they would be welcome to call back anytime over the next few days, so we could let Pat listen to their get-well messages, even though he wouldn’t be able to respond. I was almost positive we’d hear from each of them again, either tomorrow or the day after, by phone or in person.

After getting a good night’s sleep, we went in to the hospital again early the next morning and told Pat about all the people who had called to see how he was doing. I know this made him feel good, but I think he was more impressed that all of his brothers had come in to be with him again. Even Mark was with us this time, as he told his boss he’d be a little late to work, so he could run to the hospital to see Pat first. That seemed to be no problem, so here we were, all together and showing our strength and unity as a family.

The doctor didn’t arrive until around 9:00 and we all left when he came in, so he could examine Pat and determine whether he could be released. About fifteen minutes later, Pat’s doctor came out to tell me that everything looked fine and Pat would be ready to go home in a little while. He also suggested I keep Pat on soft foods for a few days, which meant no steak or anything else that might require heavy duty chewing. He felt this precaution was necessary, since he didn’t want to risk strenuous movement in Pat’s facial muscles for at least a couple of days, so it wouldn’t adversely effect the healing process. He also reminded me to keep cold compresses available to Pat, to keep the swelling down and the pain under control, and then he gave me a prescription for some painkillers, just in case Pat needed them. Before he left, the doctor also made certain I remembered his instruction about the creams and eye-drops, and then told me he wanted to see Pat next week, so I would need to call his office and set up an appointment.

Before he left to see his other patients, I tried to pin him down about how long Pat should wait before he began to talk and eat regular food again, so the doctor told me to make sure he held off until at least Thursday, but preferably Friday, if we could manage it for that long. He explained the longer he was able to delay this, the better the results would be, as it would prevent the stitches from tearing through the skin. He then went on to explain that he really had to stretch the skin very tightly in a couple of areas, as he discovered the width of the scarring had extended farther than it had first appeared. He explained that as he removed the damaged tissue and tried to pull the unaffected areas together, some of the surrounding area proved too fragile and came apart. That’s why he had to stretch the skin so far, to cover these extended sections.

After listening to his explanation, I promised him I’d make certain that Pat waited until at least Friday before doing any of those activities, but I’d let him resume talking and enjoying some of his normal eating habits by the weekend, since we’d be having a party and there would be many visitors stopping by. The doctor assured me that would be fine, but reinforced the idea that I should also restrict Pat’s general activities for several weeks, in order to keep him as calm and relaxed as possible. I told him I’d do that as well, and then we waited to get word from the admissions and billing offices that Pat had been officially cleared to go home.

Once we got back, the boys all took turns waiting on Pat, sitting with him and trying to keep him entertained, while also remaining quiet. This meant they also censored some of the things he could watch or listen to, since they didn’t want him breaking out in hysterical laughter, as that could put a strain on the affected areas as well. Over the course of the rest of the day, they did their best to make sure Pat was comfortable, stayed reclined and had everything he needed, as well as taking precautions to keep him from getting up and moving around too much. They did this by bringing his meals to him and retrieving whatever he wanted, so he could remain comfortable and not take the chance of tripping as he moved about.

I told Pat I was going to let him use my bedroom until his next doctor’s appointment, so he could stay on the first floor and I wouldn’t have to worry about him going up and down the stairs. I was going to sleep on the sleeper-sofa, but Pat used the notepad the boys had given him to let me know he expected me to sleep with him. After all, it was a king-size bed and there was plenty of room. After discussing it with him for a few minutes and explaining I was worried that I’d bump him during the night, he wrote down a very good point, one that I hadn’t thought about. He reminded me he wasn’t supposed to talk, so he couldn’t yell for me if he needed anything. If I were lying beside him, he’d only have to reach over and shake me, and then I’d be there for him. Besides, he reminded me his upper body would be propped up on pillows, so the chances of anything like that happening would be slim. He finally won out using those arguments, so I spent the night beside him.

Wednesday started off quietly enough, and once again the boys were treating Pat like he was the king of this castle. Just before lunch, Graham came up to me and asked if we could talk and I told him we could. However, he quickly let me know this was something that needed to be done in private. Since I didn’t wish to argue the point, I followed him up to his room and asked him what was up.

“Dad, you can’t let Brent go on this trip,” he unexpectedly announced. I was startled by his statement, but more curious as to why he had said it. I was pretty sure it wasn’t due to petty jealousy.

“Why do you say that?” I pressed. “Why don’t you think I should let Brent go on vacation with his friend?”

“Because something bad is going to happen to him if he goes,” he announced, and I could see the concern etched on his face and even fear in his eyes. There was no doubt Graham was serious and even somewhat scared about what might happen.

“Why? What do you know that I don’t?” I asked him.

“It’s just a feeling I have and things I’ve seen since you told him he could go,” he replied.

“Things you’ve seen? What types of things?” I pressed, trying to gain a better insight into his concerns. For a moment, Graham hesitated, but his eyes seemed to be staring a hole clear through me throughout the entire time. I think he was trying to judge just how much he should tell me and how many details he should offer. At this point, I think he decided Brent’s safety was more important than looking ridiculous, so he continued.

“I’ve seen black shadows around him ever since you told him he could go, and those shadows are getting darker every day.” Hearing this, I was somewhat speechless. Ever since Graham’s vision and pronouncements about Sammy and Andrew’s situation, I’ve had the feeling Graham might have some kind of psychic ability. Now, I believed it was time to explore the reality of it being so.

“What do you mean, you’ve seen black shadows around him?” I pressed. Once again, Graham hesitated before he spoke. I believe he was trying to decide if I believed him or if I was going to make fun of what he might say next. Seeing I had never reacted that way to him before, he decided to explain what he meant.

“Dad, there’s the dark shadow that goes all around his body and it’s been getting darker and thicker almost every day,” he explained, in a quivering voice. “I know this means something bad is going to happen to him, so please don’t let him go on this trip.”

“Graham, are you sure this isn’t just a little jealousy on your part?” I asked, just to make certain this didn’t stem from sibling rivalry. “Maybe you just think that, because he’ll be doing something you aren’t?”

“No, Dad, that’s not it at all,” Graham responded, immediately. “I don’t care if he goes with his friend. I just want him to be happy, but I don’t want him to get hurt.”

“Have you ever seen shadows like this before?” I wondered. Once again, he hesitated before he spoke.

“It’s only happened twice before,” he whispered, almost so low I couldn’t hear him.

“And what were those other times?” I wanted to know. “Was it when you told me about Sammy and Andrew needing our help?”

“No, it wasn’t then,” he confessed. “That was something different, kind of like a voice was telling me they needed our help.”

“Okay, so what other times have you seen shadows like this?” I continued.

“Well, the first time it happened, I didn’t understand what it meant,” he admitted.

“And when was that?” I persisted.

“The day you got shot,” he replied, catching me completely off guard. I took a second to think about this, formulating how I planned to respond, and then I spoke.

“Even though I was hurt in that deal, I didn’t die from it,” I announced, “so maybe nothing serious will happen here either.”

“But it wasn’t quite the same,” Graham replied. “Back then, the shadows around you were only a very dark gray. I figured out what they meant after you were injured and was afraid you were going to die.”

“But I got better,” I confirmed.

“Yes, but the shadows around you weren’t black, like they are with Brent,” he insisted. I saw what he was getting at, but wasn’t sure how to respond, so I decided to find out about the second occurrence.

“What about the other time?” I asked.

“Well, that one’s kind have been happening together with the one with Brent,” he finally admitted, although I could tell he was extremely uncomfortable sharing this information with me.

“Together? To whom else is this happening?” I wanted to know. Graham suddenly seemed to go pale when I asked this question, and over time he actually started to respond twice, but nothing seemed to come out of his mouth. Finally, after what seemed like hours, but was actually only minutes, he regained his composure and confirmed what he had seen.

“It’s been happening to both you and Brent,” he announced, with a look of horror etched upon his face, “but your shadow isn’t as dark or as thick as his,” he quickly added. “Dad, you can’t let him go!” he nearly screamed. “If you do, something bad is going to happen to both of you.”

I thought about what he had said for a second, trying to rationalize how I was going to respond. Even after racking my brain about this, I still had no idea what I was going to say, so I decided to delay responding, by asking him a few more questions. “Graham, are you sure you’re interpreting this correctly?” I asked him, while doing my best to let him know I was now concerned about this too. “I mean, it really doesn’t make sense, because I’m not going with him. If we’re not going to be together, how can you be so sure something is going to happen to him on this trip? Maybe it will only happen if we’re together, so that might mean I SHOULD let him go. Maybe the bad thing will only happen if he stays here. Maybe this bad thing is going to happen at home or in one of our cars, maybe when we go some place, otherwise how will it affect both of us at the same time.”

He thought about this for a minute or two before he answered me. “I really don’t think that’s it,” he finally responded. “I didn’t start seeing any of this until you told him he could go. Once he started making plans, I began seeing this shadow forming around his body, getting thicker and darker every day, and then another one began to form around you too. Please, Dad, make him stay here! Don’t let him go! I don’t want anything to happen to Brent, but I don’t want to lose you either.”

I knew I had to try to calm Graham’s fears and dispel his concerns. “Okay, let’s look at this more closely,” I suggested. “What exactly do you mean when you tell me he has a dark shadow around him?”

“It’s like this dark area that goes all around his body, and yours too,” he explained, “although yours is more gray, like when you got shot. Brent’s is more like a black cloud that goes around the outside of his body.”

“Do you mean like an outline, as if someone traced around him with a big magic marker?” I offered.

“Yeah, that’s kind of how it is,” he confirmed, while looking pleased that I finally understood what he was trying to tell me. “There’s an outline like that around both of you, but it’s not like a line, it’s kind of shadowy. Brent’s outline is getting darker and blacker almost every day, but yours is still kind of gray.”

“Graham, I’m not doubting what you see,” I told him, “but I still can’t understand how we could both be affected by the same event, especially if he’s going somewhere and I’m not. Here’s what we’ll do. I will tell Brent to be extra careful while he’s gone, but I’ll also tell Jimmy’s parents to keep a close eye on him. That should do the trick, don’t you think?”

“No, I don’t, Dad!” he shouted, as if he needed to speak louder to convince me. “I will watch and see if the shadows go away after you tell all of them that, but I don’t think it’s going to be enough. If doing that doesn’t change anything, then you’ve got to make him stay with us. Will you promise me that?”

“Graham, I won’t promise exactly that, but I will agree to consider everything before I let him go. Will that be okay with you?”

“I guess it will have to do,” he agreed, although not whole-heartedly, “but I still think you should keep him home. I’m really, really scared about this.”

“I know you are, or you would never have told me about it,” I confirmed. “I will take this seriously, but I’ll hold off on my final decision for a little longer. In the meantime, I’ll talk to Brent and Jimmy’s family, relaying our fears, without getting into specifics. I won’t say anything about you, because I don’t want any of them to think that you’re trying to spoil things for them.”

Graham nodded his head in understanding, but I don’t think that was a primary concern for him. He did realize I was trying to keep people from making fun of him or ridiculing him because of his unusual ability… if that was indeed what it was. I would address his concerns with the others, without laying any of the guilt or blame on him, and I’d insulate him from any consequences, if I decided not to let Brent go. I knew I would now have to do some serious thinking about this situation, since I didn’t want to over-react in either direction. One way or the other, someone would be upset with whatever decision I made, so I just prayed I would make the correct choice.