Stitcher - 8. Hurry Up and Wait

We got to Mom and Dad’s house, and both Claire and I were a total mess. Eli was crying. We were crying. And the problem was we didn’t know anything other than Ian was badly hurt—enough that they were flying him to the city. We did find out that Vic was flying with Ian, so at least he had someone with him.

Mom had made some calls while we were driving over and reached Sam. He was in Chicago for the weekend at a convention and got on the first available flight back to Boston. He would meet us at the hospital as soon as he got in.

Mom also had Dad drive Claire and me to the hospital since neither one of us was in any shape to deal with traffic. Dad grabbed his keys, and I gave my baby a quick kiss on the forehead. “Don’t worry, little man. Your daddy is a strong man, and if anyone can survive something like this, he’s the one.”

As Claire and I walked to the door to get in the car, Eli started crying again. “Don’t worry, son. It’s just separation anxiety. It happens with pretty much all six-month-olds. You get on to the hospital and call me as soon as you hear something.”

“Bye, Mom, I love you!.”

Not much was said in the car as Dad pushed the car over the speed limit as much as he could without getting pulled over. My phone rang as we were getting close to the city. Charlie’s mom told us she got us a couple of hotel rooms near the hospital so we wouldn’t have to drive back and forth. They have a special arrangement with the hospital for patient families. We had it for a week and could renew for another if needed.

Dad dropped Claire and me off at the emergency entrance and told us that he would find us wherever they sent us. We walked into the door and found Vic waiting for us.

Claire ran to him and wrapped her arms around him. I just stood, staring blankly. What do I do? I need to see my boy!

“Mom. Cam. Let’s go to the cafeteria and get a cup of coffee, and I’ll fill you in on what I know so far.”

Claire told the nurse at the desk that Dad would be coming in from parking the car and ask that she send him to the cafeteria to meet us. The nurse then handed her a clipboard with a shitload of forms that needed to be filled out.

“My son—Ian Greenely—was working for the City of Barnstable when he was injured. You don’t need my insurance. You need to contact the city. We will be in the cafeteria should you have any questions after you speak with them.”

“It’s Sunday, ma’am. There’s no one to contact until tomorrow morning.”

“Then you can contact them tomorrow. And now, you listen to me—very carefully. My son was airlifted here after a horrible accident of some sort. I have no idea what happened or what is wrong. I’m going to the cafeteria with my other son, who flew in with Ian on a fucking helicopter. He’s going to tell me everything he knows, which I’m sure isn’t nearly enough. Now I see that your name is Frances Whitehall, R.N.”

Claire leaned into the bitchy nurse and half-whispered. “Now, Nurse Whitehall, R.N. Don’t fuck with my family or me. My husband, one of the state’s leading attorneys, will be here later this afternoon. He will hear about this little exchange and any other bullshit you may try to pull. It’s completely up to you if I give him a good report or the foundation for a lawsuit in which I’m sure you will be named.”

She stood back up without taking her eyes off the now shaken nurse. “Now, Nurse Whitehall R.N., you know where you can find us and where to send my son’s father-in-law when he comes in from parking. Good day!”

While we were waiting for Claire, Vic held his arms out to me. As I approached him, I saw the bloodstains—Ian’s blood—on his shirt. That’s when I finally lost it and sobbed into Vic’s shoulder. “He’s going to be alright, Cam. He has to be—and you have to believe in that with all your heart and soul.”

He stopped talking, and I almost stopped crying when we heard Claire throwing f-bombs at that nurse. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing!

“Go, Mom!” I think Vic was as proud of her as I was shocked.

We all headed to the cafeteria, and Vic mentioned his mom’s language. “Well, son—now you know how fiercely I will defend any member of our family, even in the most horrible of situations. That includes you, Cam.”

We all got our coffee and sat down at a table. “Vic, I want to know what happened this morning as much as anyone, but we should probably wait for Elliot, so you only have to tell us once.”

And right on cue, Dad walked into the cafeteria and grabbed a cup of coffee for himself before joining us at the table.

“Wow, that was the most helpful ER nurse I think I’ve ever seen! Hard to believe!”

For the first time in hours, Vic and I had a little laugh while Claire blushed. I put my hand on Dad’s shoulder and leaned in, whispering, “I’ll tell you later—and thank you for driving us in.”

“Of course, son. we couldn’t risk either of you driving and ending up being patients as well, now could we?” He looked over at Vic and asked him what happened this morning.

“Well, Ian came in this morning to cover a shift for a sick guard. Thank God it was Sunday morning, and the pool was nearly empty. Just a couple of kids sitting at the shallow end. I heard screaming and ran out to the pool from the check-in desk. It was horrible.

“The guard stand was in pieces on the pool deck, and Ian was in the deep end. There was a truck at the bottom of the pool. Apparently, it went through the fence at high speed and crashed into the guard stand before it went into the pool. I got Ian out of the pool and did a couple of rounds of mouth to mouth. He coughed up some water and was breathing. I had already called 911, and they were there within five minutes.

“There was a piece of the guard stand stuck in his side, and he had a horrible knot on the back of his head. It seems they were more concerned with the piece of wood than his head. They didn’t want to remove it for fear that it could cause massive bleeding. They put him in an ambulance and drove us over to the MedFlight helicopter. He was unconscious the entire way in, but his vitals were holding steady.

“When we got here, they rushed him into the trauma unit, and within ten minutes, he was on his way to surgery. That was about a half-hour ago, and that’s all I know.”

I just went into shock and stared blankly ahead. I felt Claire take my hand and rub it as she was softly crying. Dad took my other hand and rubbed it as well. I don’t know how long we were like that when a nurse came into the cafeteria and walked over to us. She pulled up a chair and set her iPad in front of her.

“Are you Ian Greenely’s family?”

Vic was the only one who could talk. “Yes, that would be us.”

“It’s nice to meet you. My name is Sandra Black, and I’ve been assigned to you as your nurse advocate. The hospital does this with high profile cases so I can help you navigate through the press as well as visits and such.”

Dad seemed to be a bit confused. “High profile?”

“I’m afraid so, Mr. Greenly—”

“Franklin, Elliot Franklin.”

Claire spoke and interrupted Dad, “Elliot is a friend of the family and drove us in from Barnstable since none of us were in any shape to.”

“And the rest of you are—”

“I’m Claire Greenely, Ian’s mother. This is Vic—Victor Greenely, Ian’s brother. And this is Cam Franklin. Ian’s adopted brother.” She squeezed my hand as she explained my ‘adoption’ and nodded to my dad as she said it.

I don’t know what the fuck she was talking about, but the nurse didn’t see it as she typed our names into her pad. It made sense as soon as the nurse spoke.

“Fine. I have all of you, except Mr. Franklin, on the ICU visitor list as Ian’s immediate family. I’m sorry, Mr. Franklin. Hospital policy is that only immediate family can visit patients in ICU.”

I had to know about Ian, though. “How is Ian? Where is Ian?”

She flipped to another screen on her pad. “Ian is in the best of hands. Actually, there are three sets of hands. He has three surgeons working on him. The internist has already removed the piece of wood from Ian’s side. He’s very fortunate that it only punctured his spleen. It has been removed, and the blood loss was kept to a minimum.

“The second doctor is a neurosurgeon. Ian hit his head rather hard when he landed on the pool deck, and that has caused some fairly serious brain swelling. He has had to remove a portion of the skull, and hopefully, that will relieve the swelling to a point where there will be little or no brain damage.”

Claire gasped and then asked the nurse about the third surgeon. “Well, when the surgical team moved Ian to the operating table, they noticed that his legs were not behaving correctly. The doctors called in an orthopedic surgeon to look at his legs. Their concerns turned out to be correct. Ian had landed on the pool deck in such a way that it caused the quad tendons in both legs to rupture.”

I looked at her and just blurted, “What the fuck? Oh. Sorry.”

“Yes, that’s a very rare injury, and ironically, the least life-threatening injury could very well be the one that takes the longest recovery time.”

Poor Claire. She was trying so hard to be strong, and her voice was trembling. “Y-Y-You said my son would be put in the ICU?”

“Yes, Mrs. Greenely. With a TBI—excuse me, traumatic brain injury, such as this, he will need constant care and monitoring.”

“Is he going to be alright?”

“I’m sorry, Victor—I mean Vic. I don’t have any prognosis. I’ll leave that to the doctors to fill you in when they come out of surgery. In fact, I would like to take you to a private waiting room we have arranged for you so you can hear from the doctors as soon as they finish in the OR. Shall we go upstairs?”

“Yes, but I’ll need to let my husband know what’s going on and where to find us. He’s flying in from Chicago and will be here in a few hours.”

Nurse Black switched to another screen on her pad. “And his name is—"

“Sam. Sam Greenely.”

“Great. We’ll make sure Sam finds his way to you when he arrives.”

We finished our coffees and went up to the fourth floor to the surgical waiting room. Nurse Black led us through an unmarked door to the private room. Nothing special. Just a couple of sofas and a television mounted on the wall.

She asked if any of us would like lunch. Just as I was about to say I wasn’t hungry, my stomach let itself be known with a massive growl. “I guess I’m hungry.”

“I’ll have the kitchen bring lunch up for everyone. You should stay up here out of sight for the time being since the press is hanging around.”

Dad was still wondering about the high-profile thing when he asked the nurse about it again.

She took the remote and turned on the television. It was on CNN, and the breaking news was about Ian and the accident! Holy fuck!

“We have breaking news from just outside of Boston. A truck plowed into a community pool in Barnstable, Massachusetts, ran through the lifeguard stand, critically injuring the young lifeguard. The vehicle then plunged into the pool, where the driver died from an apparent self-inflicted gunshot wound as it was filling with water. Fortunately, there were no other injuries as it was early in the day, and there were only a handful of young people at the opposite end of the pool.

“The young lifeguard was airlifted to Boston, where we are told he is currently in surgery. We have no other information as the Barnstable Police Department has not released the names of any of the victims at this time.

“We have reporters outside Massachusetts General Hospital and will be breaking in with more information as it becomes available.”

They started this stupid as fuck panel discussion trying to decide if this was a terrorist attack like those they’ve had in Europe over the last couple of years. But the more they talked, the more they looked like fucking idiots. Somebody wanted to kill my boy. We don’t even know who.

Claire asked that the television be turned off. She also had enough. “I’m going to call the Barnstable Police and see if they have any more information.”

While she was on the phone, lunch was wheeled in. Ugh. Hospital food. We had sandwiches, salads, coffee, and iced tea. None of us felt like eating much, and we just picked at the food. It just didn’t taste very good. I mean, it is hospital food.

Claire ended her call and said they wouldn’t give much more information than what we just saw on the news. They were sending a couple of officers to the hospital to ask a few questions and let us know what they know.

It seems like all we can do is hurry up and wait—and wait—and worry—and pray.

About an hour later, a couple of doctors came in. They were two of the surgeons. Dr. Campbell introduced himself as the Internist and told us about removing Ian’s spleen and that his part of the surgery went very well. We could expect a full recovery from that injury.

Dr. Bohls was the neurosurgeon. His news wasn’t as good. He said Ian had a critically severe concussion from hitting his head on the pool deck. They removed a section of his skull to relieve some of the pressure and swelling in his brain. He told us that he really wouldn’t know anything until sometime tomorrow. He will be in a medically-induced coma until the swelling goes down. If that happens within the next 24 hours, then there should be minimal (if any) brain damage, and Ian should live a completely healthy life.

Vic asked Dr. Bohls about the hole in Ian’s skull. He told us that they would take the piece that was cut out and replace it in a few weeks. It’s called a cranioplasty. He uses a new method that reduces nearly all risks of further injury.

Claire asked about Ian’s legs, and we were told that particular surgery takes a little more than an hour per leg. It should be another 90 minutes or so before he’s moved to ICU.

Jesus! I don’t understand why anyone would want to do this to Ian! He’s the kindest, sweetest, most generous boy that ever lived. And now, we don’t even know if he’s going to continue living or how he will be if he does. Vic was right. He has to be okay.

Hurry up and wait.

About thirty minutes later, Nurse Black came back into the room with Sam and two police officers. “Okay, folks. I found Mr. Greenely in the lobby, and then two police officers from Barnstable came in. I’ve filled Sam in on everything we know so far. And the officers have some things to tell you, and I’m sure you would like to ask a few questions.

“Hi folks, I’m Lieutenant Johnson, and this is Officer Ryan. We’re the officers who were at the scene. Let me tell you a few things we know that we haven’t released to the press yet. First of all, the truck owner and driver was Jack Greenely of Cumberland, Kentucky. I assume you know who this is?”

Sam spoke up. “Yes, he’s my brother.”

“And the victim is his son?”

“Yes.”

“Do any of you know why this man would try to kill his own son?”

Well fuck! Everyone just looked at me. Like the cops wouldn’t know I had the answer. Dad spoke up first.

“Officer, this is a very private and delicate family issue. I don’t believe any of us should tell you what we think unless Cam agrees to it.”

Now the officers and Nurse Black were looking at me! Well, it’s not like Ian and I have kept our relationship a secret. After all, we were all over the local paper when that Prom Kings thing happened.

“It’s not like there are any secrets around town.” Claire looked at me and slightly nodded her head at the nurse. “Nurse Black, ma’am, would you mind stepping out while I talk to the police about this?”

Claire smiled as the nurse left the room. “Good job, Cam.”

“So yeah, it’s definitely a family situation. But a couple of years ago, Ian was thrown out of his home because of his being gay. He moved to Barnstable to live with his Aunt and Uncle. But you know, he never was sad or angry about it.

“We met a few days after he arrived on the Cape, and honestly, we’ve hardly been apart. We have a son who is just about seven months old, and it’s been amazing. And now—” I started to cry, but I knew I had to stop myself so I could say one more thing.

“I-I-I just don’t understand why now, out of nowhere, he drives here from Kentucky to try and kill—I’m sorry—” I lost it, and Dad came over and held me.

Claire was the one who was to clear things up. “About a year ago, I got a phone call from Mary, Ian’s mother. She couldn’t talk long because she was afraid her husband would come home and catch her talking to me. She was devastated when Jack threw Ian out of the house.

“Mary told me she couldn’t do anything because she was afraid Jack would start to beat her again if she protested and spoke her mind. Every week or so, I would get a short call from her. I would tell her all about Ian’s accomplishments—how he got accepted into Harvard Law School, how he and Cam were such amazing dads to little Eli—that sort of thing.

“About a month ago, she called when she thought Jack had left for work, but he was still in the house. We were talking about Eli and Ian when I heard yelling in the background. She hung up the phone. I was so afraid for her. I knew from her about Jack’s temper. It’s so hard to believe that Sam and Jack are brothers. They are just polar opposites.

“I heard from her again a few days later. She had driven to Louisville and was staying with her parents. She got a restraining order to keep Jack away from her, and she also filed for divorce. I have a feeling Jack blamed Ian for the end of his marriage from what Mary had told me.”

Officer Ryan told us that they located Mary and her story matches what Claire had told us and that her late husband definitely blamed Ian for all of his troubles. “So, we have a motive for the crime. Things are starting to become clear on our end.

I remembered the strange phone calls and asked the officers if they had found a cell phone in the truck. “For the last couple of weeks, we were getting phone calls on our landline, but no one would talk. They would just hang up. Ian tried to find out the number that called using that trace thing, but all he could get was that it was an unidentified cell phone.”

Lt. Johnson told me that they did recover a cell phone from the truck and that forensics would try and see what calls had been made, but with it being underwater, it was about a 50-50 chance that they would be able to get the information they wanted. Then he asked me a question that I didn’t know how to answer with Ian.

“Son, we plan to hold a press conference later this afternoon. We need to know what information about your relationship with Ian you want us to let out.”

“Well, we’ve never hidden our relationship from anyone. I mean, we’ve never flaunted it in front of someone, but our approach was that it is what it is. So, I feel like you can tell the press what you feel they need to know. I know Ian would feel the same way.”

“I understand, Cameron. But you need to know that this case is getting a lot of local and national attention. There will be people in some parts of the country who could make life difficult for you and your family when this information is released.”

“Vic? Dad? Claire and Sam? What do you think?”

Dad told me that they would support any decision I made. Sam said that they would do everything in their power to protect Ian, the baby, and me.

Vic had been pretty quiet but asked the officers if there was anything they could do to protect the family. Lt. Johnson told us they would protect both homes and the shop while we were there. They would also be keeping an eye on the shop overnight as part of their regular patrol. He also said that they would provide protection for at least four or five weeks.

Just then, our nurse knocked on the door and stuck her head in. “Folks, Ian is out of surgery and will soon be moved to the ICU. I have Dr. Cunningham, the orthopedic surgeon, with me. Just let me know when the officers and finished, and I’ll bring him in.”

Lt. Johnson told her that they were finished with us and that they would be heading back to Barnstable and prepare for a press conference.

“Excellent, the three surgeons will be holding a press conference regarding Ian’s surgery and his prognosis. That should happen within the hour.”

The officers left the room, and Nurse Black brought in the third surgeon. He told us that Ian did quite well in his surgery, considering all that had to be done. He will be listed in critical condition due to the brain injury, but as far as the other procedures went, we should expect a full recovery.

“I want you to know that at this moment, his legs are in braces and that he will not be able to walk without braces for several weeks—perhaps even a month or two. Unfortunately, we can’t begin working on his legs until the swelling in his brain has gone down and the cranioplasty has been completed. There is just too much risk of a fall, and we can’t do that with his brain unprotected.”

Sam asked if he would be able to get his legs back to normal. “Yes, I don’t see any reason why not, but again so much depends on his recovery from the brain injury. Fortunately, he’s in excellent physical shape, and once we get him out of bed, the recovery should be 100%.

“He will have to use a walker and a wheelchair for several weeks until he’s able to get enough strength in his quads to use crutches. It normally takes eight to twelve weeks to get to that point.”

Claire asked how he was now. “At this time, we are keeping him in a medically induced coma to allow the brain to heal as much as possible. We hope that can happen overnight. Once the swelling has gone down, and his vital signs are where they need to be, we will bring him out of the coma. Once he becomes conscious, we will put him on a regimen of painkillers. Without them, he will be in incredible pain from all three of the procedures. Unfortunately, he won’t be completely aware of things for at least the first week of recovery.”

Claire took everything in quite well. I was a blubbering mess. The thought of my beautiful boy fighting for his life was killing me inside. And then there were so many “ifs” to deal with.

“Can we see our son?” Claire stood up a wiped her eyes.

“Yes, but only immediate family can see him. It will have to be one person at a time and only for five minutes. Do you have any other questions?”

Sam stood and went to the doctor to shake his hand. “Thank you, Dr. Cunningham—and the other surgeons—for saving my son’s life. All we can do now is wait, pray, and hope that Ian gets through this with minimal long-term effects.”

“Your son is a strong young man. He’s been through a lot in the last several hours, and he did it without a hitch.”

“Sam, Claire, Cam, and Vic—I will take you to the ICU now.”

Nurse Black took us down the hall and through the doors marked “Surgical ICU.” The first thing we had to do was put on scrubs, booties, facemasks, and hairnets.

Claire went in first. It was the longest five minutes of my life. All I could hear was this insane sound of machines beeping. All I could see was an army of nurses moving in and out of different rooms and writing on clipboards.

Sam and Vic went next. Me? Hurry up and wait.

When it was finally my turn, Nurse Black told me that I might be shocked when I see Ian. He has a lot of bandages, his face is bruised and swollen, and there are a lot of machines and tubes hooked up to him.

I walked in and couldn’t believe what I saw. My beautiful boy looked so helpless. I asked the nurse if he could hear us. She said that many times, people in a coma could hear what’s happening around them. She said I needed to be strong and positive. She waited outside the door, and I sat in the chair next to my boy’s bed.

“I’m here, beautiful boy. The doctors said you did great with your surgery. I knew you would.”

I put my hand in his. God, it felt so good just to touch him. “I love you with all my heart, Ian. I know you can’t talk right now, so I’m giving you a coma pass. That means you don’t have to do a thing but get your sexy ass better, okay?”

Very slowly, I felt Ian’s finger move in my hand. I swear I felt a very weak squeeze. I started crying but kept it as silent as I could. I just rubbed the top of his hand, told him I loved him, and let him do what he needed to do. Heal.

Nurse Black lightly knocked and told me that it was time for me to go. I leaned down to his hand to kiss it and felt another light movement. I walked out of the room and asked the nurse if it was normal for someone in a coma to try to squeeze my hand when I would talk to him.

She seemed surprised to hear that he had done that but said that it’s been known to happen. She seemed pleased and told one of the ICU nurses to make sure to note that in Ian’s chart.

“Nurse Black?”

“Yes, Cam?”

“What do we do now?”

“We wait and hope and pray for the best.”

Hurry up and wait. Fucking hurry up and wait.