Rain - 1. Chapter 1

Today would turn out to be the most memorable of all.

Colin’s office stood at the end of a long, bright corridor. Black and white pictures of Darwin and Curie hung on the cream walls. A pair of black pyramid lamps stood beside a four-tiered bookshelf, and the open windows, covered by khaki vertical blinds, allowed the winter air in. He drank a cup of Rooibos tea and checked his diary for the day. The notes were bold and clear:

• Morningside Facility Med. students - tour of the facility – 11h30.
• Urgent appointment Mrs. Holder re Kyle – 15h30.

The Morningside Facility enjoyed a responsible social program thanks to Colin and his loyalty to the community. Truth be told, the groups of medical students that came through the doors did not come to see Colin, or the bricks of the building, or the fancy technical medical equipment, although that was part of the tour.

They came to see Rain de Waal.

An anorexic nurse entered his office and, with wide, darting eyes, announced,

“They’re here. We’ve been invaded!”

“Thank you, Avado. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Colin gulped down the tea, picked up a pen and clipboard with pages of ‘Rain’ data, and walked into the corridor towards OBSERVATION LEVEL A.

He stood in front of the students and raised a hand. The power of the hand was magical. Silence followed. For a moment he wished his own son were as obedient as this group.

“Hi. I’m Doctor Colin Bold and this is the place where I work. Allow me to introduce you to a special patient, his name is Rain De Waal. What you will see may shock you and you are free to leave the room at any time. Please feel free to ask questions. Before we see him, let me fill you in on his background. Rain is, was, a policeman with the rank of Captain. He had a motorcar accident fifteen years ago and since then, he’s been comatose. I have been his doctor throughout and although I know his body inside out, interviews with ex-coma patients have revealed that over 70% of them are aware of their environment and they know whether the people around them have negative, positive or impoverished emotions…So be aware, you are being sensed…”

Colin ascended a flight of steps into the glass chamber that was home to Rain. It was dark inside. He flicked a switch and the students gasped as the lights came on below them.

Rain lay on his back with white straps secured to his head, across his abdomen, knees and ankles. The bed revolved about a single axis. Nurse Avado stood beside the bed.

“As can be seen, the bed is in a permanent state of motion. This is to enable his blood to circulate through the remotest veins of his body. He cries a lot. His eyes often move about in their sockets even tracking his care staff. Now, many physicians believe that he feels nothing, sees nothing, and hears nothing. However we take a different approach to coma at this hospital. Where some would see coma as a state of unconsciousness, we see it as an extreme altered state of consciousness from which the patient has not been aroused. We believe that the patient is stimulated through physiotherapy, unexpected sounds in his environment, and carers talking. We try and meet the patient where he is. We might not be able to shock him out of the coma, but we could offer him gentle accompaniment by minimizing interruptions of his inner processes, and support him to not only be talked to in a respectful way but also be listened to. If one is to believe that the brain’s ability to heal is far reaching, then using this approach must be seen as important support for his awareness levels.”

A student interrupted, “…Listened to?”

“Yes. Watch nurse Avado, otherwise known as a coma care worker. She is matching her breathing with Rain’s rhythm. She is acknowledging that wherever he is, is OK, and she is encouraging him to feel all he is feeling, see all he is seeing, hear all he is hearing. She watches for tiny signals in response. His breathing changes when she talks to him and sometimes his eyes move. She has been trying to get a repeat signal from him so that they can communicate through a binary system of ‘yes/no’. From that point on she can find out about his inner world and counsel him.”

A young man asked, “Are these tests for those in deep state coma or also for those who have opened their eyes? And what drugs are used to keep the patient from seizure?”

Colin’s thin lips stretched into a self-satisfied smile. Golden hair hung off his ears. A gold ring hung from a chain about his neck. He raised an index finger, ‘Good questions. The most common test used to assess people in coma is the Glasgow Coma Scale which measures a patient’s eye, motor and verbal response in a scale to fifteen. A person in a deep coma measures fewer than nine on this scale. Care staff assesses Rain at least twice a day using this scale. As for drugs, we use diazepam which is really Valium, Dilantin, Phenobarbital and an anticonvulsant called Sinemet or Levodopa, which is used for Parkinson’s disease.”

A dark haired student asked, “Is it true that patients who have opened their eyes know what is going on around them?”

“Yes and no. Patients who have opened their eyes within the first few hours and days of their coma have a better chance of survival…”

...“See you tomorrow…see you tomorrow…see you tomorrow…”
It's Jonathan's voice singing in the expectation of another day. He's standing in the doorway; young, fresh, the world waiting at his feet. Rain waves to him as he reverses from the drive.

Rain pours down the windshield as he approaches the onramp to the highway. Jonathan’s musky smell lingers on his hands and lips and neck. He heads for the next off-ramp and passes a gargantuan Cummins Freightliner cargo truck…

A young lady with blonde hair off her eyes bit through her knuckles. “He doesn’t even know that South Africa has changed. The odds are stacked against him. I mean, not many people survive a coma that long.”

Colin corrected her. “True and not true. Not many people survive because of complications that arise from being immobile – they suffer pneumonia and urinary tract infections. There have been individuals in coma for eighteen and nineteen years in the United States. Both have recuperated to some extent. In one case the patient lost the ability to show any human feeling. In another case, the patient’s ability to remember failed him.
Rain is the first to show physical rehabilitation. Six years ago, he lay in a foetal position. We placed him in an intense recovery program and his physical form has returned. It has taken six years of muscle stimulation…”

Rain spasmed. Then calmed down. A student asked, “Has he ever spoken?”

“No.”

“If he does wake up, do you think his memory will be affected?”

“We don’t know. The temporal lobes, in the front of the brain, are responsible for encoding memory. There is no damage in that region. On the physical side he may be recuperated, but his mental condition is unknown, and there will of-course be psychological issues he will have to face as some of you have mentioned. Those who have survived coma have often talked about near death or extra sensory experiences. Many face the struggle of rehabilitation from brain injury, which leaves their personality changed and with new physical challenges. Others say it was a gift, a spiritual journey that changed the way they see the world. One thing is certain – we don’t understand the wonders of the brain or the purpose of the body going into coma. Not fully… ”

Into coma. Not fully…

Pink noses, pink ears and several large pairs of eyes in white overalls with clipboards and stethoscopes bend over him for closer inspection. The ceiling, basin, taps, windows, door; people are visible, drenched in a soft white aura.

“Oh my God! The man’s awake,” a student cries out in the front of the group.

His eyes move faster and faster in their sockets.

Colin shouts, “10cc’s Diazepam, now! Avado!”

Colin knew he could slip back into the coma but he was more valuable awake than in a deep vegetative state.

Nurse Avado reached for the steel petri dish on the side table and soon the diazepam flowed through his veins and the spasms decreased. Colin sighed, relieved, he said, “Rain, can you speak?”

Rain coughed and splattered like a car trying to start up.

“I am Colin Bold. You are in the Morningside Facility. Do you know what your name is?”

The words in his mind read Rain De Waal, a heavy tongue struggled to find a voice.

“Dwal…”

Speech path – he talks!

Auditory path, perfect!

Colin asked, “Do you feel any pain?”

No response.

His body twitched.

Colin dabbed a wet swab to his parched mouth, turned to the group of students, and said, “It seems we have a recovery in process.”

* * *

The chamber was a quiet place, away from the bustle of the hospital, but news spread like wildfire in this small facility and within minutes every person who had ever worked on Rain seemed to be there. All wanted feedback.

Colin turned to Avado, “This is going to be tough. I mean these are all educated people and they should know better.”

Avado, calmer than Colin, said, “Yes, but this is a remarkable occasion.”

Colin turned on the microphone.

“Ladies and gents, Rain De Waal has re-emerged from his coma state. I respect your concern right now but I must ask you all to leave. A report will be out soon, and a press release. Thank you.”

He turned to Avado, “Vultures. Worse than reporters.”

Avado had a silly little twisted smile. “I bet the reporters are on their way.”

They lifted Rain onto the bed of the white MRI machine. As Colin turned to find his stethoscope, he found himself staring into the face of a man whom he respected, and loathed, CEO of the facility, Phillip Carstons.

“Well done. Our ‘revival’ has risen from the swamps of despair you might say.”

Thick black-rimmed glasses sat on the nip of his nose.

The front of his head was bald, backend his hair grew into a ponytail. He peered at Rain lying on the MRI bed.

“A marvellous thing,” Colin said. “He is perfect, Phillip. Perfect.”

“I believe he can talk?”

“Yes.”

“That in itself is a miracle. The speech route through the brain must be intact. Can he walk?”

“No. But he has all his facilities about him. He listens and hears.”

“Regression factors?”

“It’s too soon to tell. But he hasn’t shown any signs at all.”

“A sudden waking is a strange thing, Colin”

“Ditto, my initial reaction,” he said. “Once the FMRI’s and MRI’s are complete I’ll be able to make an in depth analysis.”

“Be careful. Patients who wake up suddenly have the odd habit of slipping back into a deeper coma. How’s circulation?”

“He’s not sitting up. It’s going to take some time to get him walking.”

“Hmmm. Best to wait and see.’ He opened the door to leave, ‘Keep me posted, will you?’

The images gave a startling result. Kidneys, liver, pancreas, bowel movement, heart rate and brain waves, all in perfect working order. X-rays revealed a strong bone structure.

“I have never seen anything like it,” he mumbled and turned to his notebook.

“Jonthan…”

Colin swirled about. Rain's brown eyes dazzled him, they slanted across his face. He stepped closer and touched his hand. It was warm.

“Jonathan is not here, Rain. Do you understand that?”

Jonathan disappeared some years ago.

“C-Cn uh t-tay tump-ting?”

“Of-course, Rain.”

“W-wha hpened?”

“You were involved in a car accident on the highway.”

“Laht nite I wat drnk?”

“You had one beer and a glass of wine, Rain.”

“Hm uh going to die?”

“No. You’re back with us. You have tomorrow to look forward to,” he whispered.

His cell phone beeped. It sounded louder and more insistent than ever and beeped three or four times before he answered.

“Colin Bold.”

“This is Mrs. Holder, Kyle’s headmistress.”

“Mrs. Holder!” He wanted to say Mrs. Dragon. He had forgotten the appointment. “How are you? I forgot the appointment didn’t I?”

Mrs. Holder spewed out fire and brimstone.

“We’ll cut to the chase, Dr. Bold. You’d better get down here at once. We have a situation,” she said, like an overeager presidential advisor.

“What incident, Mrs. Holder? I’m busy right now,” he replied.

“Believe me, Doctor, when you find out you will know it is an extremely serious thing that has happened with your son.”

“I’ll be there right away.”

* * *

Mrs. Holder’s office was grey, and so was she. Pale skin, grey hair tied up in a bun, long wrinkled fingers. Below her left shoulder she wore a bright zirconium broach of a yellow butterfly.

She had seen many kids grow up, some not as disciplined as she would have liked, others absolute starlets. She didn’t know what to make of Kyle. Kyle stood on the opposite side of the desk facing the busy street below. Hair jelled into church spires. He stood taller than Mrs. Holder but smaller than his father. A lean face, alive with the excitement of the moment, sagged into remorse when Mrs. Holder opened her mouth to speak.

“It was during break that he stole into the computer class and logged onto the net. Mr. Harvey caught him staring at a picture of a semi-naked woman. Here, take a look. Mr. Harvey printed it out in case you didn’t believe us.”

Colin took the picture - a bronzed, naked woman on a faraway beach with hands on her hips.

“I’m sure he did not mean much by this little oversight, I’ll have a word with him.”

“That’s the problem with today’s modern techno society, they think they can do it all on a computer. The scourge of the universe these things are I tell you…”

“Mrs. Holder, will you leave us alone for five minutes?” Colin said.

She left the room and closed the door. Colin spoke, softly at first,

“It’s my fault. I’ve allowed you too much Internet freedom. I sense you feel neglected and alone. Am I right?”

Kyle did not answer. He gazed at the floorboards. Colin knelt down in front of him.

“It’s not the end of the world, Kyle. Listen, if you promise me that this will stop, I’ll take you fishing this weekend. How’s that?”

He remained silent.

“You don’t want to go fishing?”

He spoke. “Boring. You’ve made promises before and never kept them, why should I believe you now? Your job is more important than me.”

“Kyle, I work double shifts to keep us from starving. I vowed a long time ago that you would have the best and not suffer. I’m sorry if that offends you…”

Kyle spoke over his voice, “…You’re never home. And when you do come home you’re tired and want to sleep. I never see you. We don’t go out to movies. We don’t do anything!”

“Check me out this weekend.”

“But that’s one weekend, Dad. What about the rest of the year?”

“I can compromise, if you will. Promise me you will not look at that stuff, please.”

“I was fooling around. I mean it’s not as though I was stealing money. Anyway they’re supposed to have a block on this thing. I had no idea the block had been lifted.”

“Block or not, it’s illegal, Kyle. Listen, I know you are a brilliant computer boffin, but if you don’t stop this you’re going to land up in a situation that I cannot do anything about. I think you owe Mrs. Holder an apology.”

“What about us?” He asked.

He hugged him. “I love you, and I promise I will make this up to you. Be patient with me, okay? In the meantime, your computer is out of bounds. You’ll get it back, but that’s a lot better than expulsion. What say you?”

He stared at Colin with glassy eyes. Colin noticed the unhappiness in his tears.

* * *

In his office later that night, Colin picked up a brown envelope containing Rain’s medical records. He opened it with a silver paperknife and removed the documents, now yellowed with time. A squiggly signature stood out with a name printed below it:

Jonathan Guy.
8 April 1990 (011)777-5454

The number probably didn’t exist now.

Rain had gone into a coma during the dying years of apartheid. He was oblivious of the historical changes affected by Mandela’s release in 1991, and of the first democratic elections in 1994. South Africa had celebrated ten years of democracy under the leadership of two ANC Presidents.

He remembered Jonathan signing it. Yes, they spoke. He was a lawyer. Mentioned defeating a Jason Dent … and there was another man, Evan? Steven? Stephan! The memory came rushing back.

Jonathan waits in the surgery’s reception area, pacing, expecting the worst, when Stephan rushes in, swaying his hips in a mincing fashion, a hand on his forehead, the other clutching invisible pearls about his throat.

“We don’t know.”