Core Beliefs - Chapter 16 - Another Year, Not

Core Beliefs – Chapter 16 - Another Year, Not.

Happy New Year gushed from the TV. Matt awoke late and fixed cereal for breakfast. He was glancing at the parade on the TV and sipping his second cup of coffee.

Plans for the day included reviewing the past year’s financials and creating a series of notes and summaries. He spent the morning plowing through his old emails and various memos, working nonstop for several hours.

Matt had the urge to get a drink and to use the restroom. In the kitchen, he poured a glass of milk.

Matt wasn’t conscious that he had poured milk. Normally, he drank water. He took a couple of sips and headed for the bathroom, but the bathroom he walked toward was down the far hall at the other end of the house.

Matt rarely came to this wing of the rambling house. He really had no reason. Everything he did was at his end. His monthly housekeeper always made sure to dust, vacuum, and keep this section closed. Halfway down the hall, he turned left into the bathroom. Opening the door, pastel pink walls, a fuzzy rug, and a pink shower curtain with seashells and fish filled his eyes and mind.

“Elizabeth picked the colors,” Matt mumbled. “We painted it together. I told you what a yucky color pink was. We should paint it battleship gray.” Matt's words were all but incoherent as his memories rushed from a decade past.

He finished relieving himself and stepped into the hallway, pausing.

Unconsciously, Matt turned left and proceeded, taking half-sleep steps. His face had lost all expression, as if his mind and body were in different places, different worlds, and different times. A door to the left led to a guest bedroom, and a door on the right led to another room.

It had been years since Matt had opened that door. His mind floated in a dream state. Phantoms controlled his movements.

Matt touched the door handle. Every fiber of his being screamed in fear of what lurked on the other side, but he could not stop his hand from grasping the knob and slowly turning. The door swung in. The hinge uttered a squeak as, bit by bit, the room revealed itself.

A bed stood against the wall to the right, with a pale white decorative headboard and a delicate yellow bedspread adorned with daffodils and lilies, though now faded. The carpet remained a pleasing green. A dressing table, chest of drawers, and desk claimed places along the walls, all matching the headboard. In the corner stood a shelf filled with books and stuffed animals.

Lizzy loved stuffed animals. She collected bears and bunnies, and Matt remembered many a time she begged him to buy her a cute little critter.

Matt looked at the chest on the floor next to the bed, aware it held more fuzzy animals with bead eyes and soft faux fur skin. His eyes drifted to the empty floor. A massive pile of furry beasts materialized, their eyes glaring up at him. Lizzy's legs stuck out in Matt's phantom vision.

“Lizzy?” Matt whimpered.

The vision vanished.

Matt’s gaze drifted to the bed. Someone arranged the pillows neatly. An image flashed in his head of how many times he came in to pick them off the floor, and in the next moment, he and Lizzy were in a pillow fight that often extended back to the living room and, occasionally, to other areas of the home.

Lizzy’s laugh echoed in his ears, as did Marylyn’s laughing voice, shouting. “Not in here; you’ll break something!”

Another voice in his mind, cold and dark, whispered, ‘She won’t ever sleep here again.’

“I will never hear her laugh or smell her hair. She is gone, so gone—and I am so alone.” Matt trembled. Emotions snaked from hidden depths as if released from some dark cage. Suddenly, they flooded every fiber of his being.

His heart shredded. Misery wrapped around him. A tomb gloom stole all light, all hope, and ripped his very will from his soul.

“They are gone, my heart and soul, I have no reason to live.” It was true.

The world around him blurred. He grasped at the air in front of him and felt his legs giving way. His stomach cramped as he sought to crawl. Matt’s body ignored his mind’s commands. Poisoned and paralyzed by his failure and his inability to protect his wife and daughter, he groveled in despair. Consciousness slipped away. His stomach convulsed as all faded to black.

***

Wednesday, January 2nd. Chris and his family flew into St. Louis after celebrating Christmas in New York with Charlotte’s family. Chris’s mother had flown to New York from Florida, and it had been a glorious week.

Back at home, they unpacked when Charlotte noticed the answering machine had messages. The first two were blank, but the third was from Joe. He had tried to reach Matt on the first but got no answer. Joe wanted to know if Chris knew where Matt might be. Charlotte made Chris listen to the message. There was urgency in Joe’s voice.

“Get over to Matt’s and see if he is there.” Charlotte’s eyes begged more than her words.

Chris knew that tone and not to question it. He snatched his keys and was on the road.

Pulling into Matt’s drive, everything looked normal. He went to the front door and rang the bell. There was no answer. Striding to the garage side of the house, he cupped his eyes, peered through the side door window, and spotted Matt’s car. Through the gate into the backyard, he continued to the back and knocked on the French doors on the patio. Still no answer. Quickening his steps, he tried the kitchen door as he had the others and found it unlocked. Entering the house, he listened for an alarm, but nothing happened. He called Matt’s name. No answer, but every sense he had told him something was wrong.

Chris headed for the living room, then the study, and Matt’s bedroom. He saw Matt’s notes on his desk, and the computer turned on. The bad feeling got worse. Walking back to the kitchen, he spied a glass on the table with about an inch of milk in the bottom. He picked it, sniffed, and could tell it was going sour. He strode back into the living room. The TV was on, as was the lamp by the recliner.

Staring down the long hall to the other end of the house, he felt himself drawn. Hesitantly, he stepped into the dim hallway. He came to the bathroom, with its door open, and quickly glanced inside. No one was there. He continued and saw the open door to the right. Nearing, he saw legs sprawling on the floor and rushed forward.

Chris tried to get his friend’s attention with pats on the cheek and gentle shaking, but Matt did not respond.

Chris’s first fear was that Matt might be dead, but between his own panicked breaths, he heard a slow, shallow, erratic wisp from Matt and found a very weak pulse when he placed his fingertip on Matt’s neck.

Snatching his cell phone, he punched 911 and gave them Matt’s address. They kept asking him questions. Distress ramped through Chris. He realized he was babbling. He needed an ambulance and help. They were still asking stupid questions he couldn’t answer.

“You’re not helping,” the emergency operator barked.

Chris snapped from his panic. No, he wasn’t helping. He seized deep breaths.

“EMS is on the way,” she said. He heard the wail of a siren. She hung up, mentioning something about other calls and being short-staffed.

He dialed Charlotte. She was just as bad as the 911 operator, quizzing him. It felt like an interrogation.

He answered as best he could, pinched Matt as she asked, and checked his eyes, dilated, unmoving. Mostly, Chris felt inadequate.

“I’m coming, call Joe! Now!” she barked.

***

Charlotte hung up and told Jacob to stay with Janet, and she’d call him in a little while. She sped recklessly to Matt’s.

***

Chris reached Joe, and what Joe had to say was shocking.

Joe and Cynthia were coming.

The Paramedics arrived. Chris led them to Matt. They tromped Chris with queries about medications, drugs, and health records. “Was Matt an alcoholic?” one asked.

The questions kept pouring, and all the time, nothing was being done.

The hospital transmitted instructions, and the EMTs were about to administer meds for a heart attack when Charlotte burst into the room.

“What are you giving him?” She all but shouted.

The paramedic told her.

“Don’t do that!” she said.

“I have authorization to proceed from the ER,” the lead EMT stated.

She glared at the medic, her eyes cold and hard, an expression filling her face that would stop a bulldozer, and with absolute commitment in her words. “The hospital is wrong, and if you do this, you will kill this man. If that happens, I will have your ass!”

Never had Chris heard Charlotte this adamant. He stared, mesmerized, as she seized control of the room.

“This man is in a deep coma because of traumatic emotional stress.” Charlotte calmly yet intensely said to the paramedic. “Contact your doctor at the hospital and tell him what I have just said.”

The paramedic was reluctant, but Charlotte’s stare was so intense he keyed his mike and asked for the ER doctor.

Chris jolted back to reality and blurted out. “Joe said this was the anniversary!”

Charlotte stared at him and asked, “What anniversary?”

“It was actually yesterday,” Chris said. “Thirteen years ago yesterday was when a drunk driver killed his wife and little girl.”

Charlotte gazed piercingly at the paramedic. “Tell the doctor what you have just heard.”

The response from the other end was almost immediate. The doctor ordered an immediate IV and a change of medication with instructions to get Matt on a respirator and transport.

“Go home to the kids and see if the neighbors can watch them.” Charlotte said as she hugged Chris. “I need to be at the hospital.” She strode out, got in her car, and was off right behind the ambulance.

Chris locked the house and had to answer some questions from neighbors, keeping things vague. He headed home and called Joe from his cell phone to tell him which hospital Matt was going to. He reached home, talked with the neighbors, and arranged for their teenage daughter to watch the kids, including spending the night if needed. Then, he headed for the hospital.

***

Charlotte arrived just minutes behind the ambulance and made her way directly to the ER. The nurses and doctor were taking over from the EMT crew after they wheeled Matt into one of the critical care trauma rooms.

Charlotte stood forlornly on the outside looking in but asked a nurse entering the ER to tell the doctor that she would like a quick word and that it could be vital to the patient’s treatment. The nurse gave her a look that showed she did not particularly like catering to non-staff requests, but when Charlotte said it could make a difference in the patient’s survival, the nurse softened her stance and agreed to pass the message.

Twenty minutes later, the Doctor appeared, and Charlotte paced towards him. She asked for five minutes and went through Matt’s scenario, including that Matt had probably been unconscious for at least twenty-four hours and had vacated his stomach. The Doctor agreed that Matt was dehydrated and non-responsive.

“The mental breakdown has caused the physical symptoms,” Charlotte said. “We need to get a neurologist and psychiatrist involved quickly!”

She quoted medical papers on the aspects of coma induced by long-suppressed mental trauma and the importance of beginning tests and treatment to stabilize brain activity and function.

The Doctor repeatedly raised his eyebrow, but after listening. “I get it,” he said. “I promise to place a call to a neurologist and to the head of psychiatry.”

“Are you a physician?” the doctor asked.

“No, a master’s in psychology, and I started studies towards a psychiatry doctorate but pursued a life as a mother and wife instead,” Charlotte hung her head.

“It’s definitely a loss to the medical profession,” the doctor chuckled.

Only a few minutes after the Doctor went back into the ER, Chris rushed through the door. He told Charlotte about the arrangements and asked if there was any change in Matt. Charlotte hung her head and shook it. Holding hands, they walked to the ER waiting room and found a quiet corner.

“I’m scared,” Charlotte blurted, “terrified. He’s hanging by a thread, and though his body is barely working, his mind is shutting down, and if we can’t reach him, he won’t have a reason to come back.”

An hour had passed before the ER doctor returned with another physician, the head of psychiatry at the hospital. He sat with Chris and Charlotte for about ten minutes as they explained the circumstances surrounding Matt’s collapse.

The Doctor asked about family, and Chris told him Matt’s brother was headed their way from Kansas City and should arrive in the next hour or two.

“There is no family closer,” Chris sighed, “and Matt’s other relationships were through work.”

Chris realized he needed to let someone at the office know about the situation. Thinking frantically, he remembered Lucy. She would know who to notify and how. With a glance at his watch, he knew he only had a minute or two to reach someone. He excused himself, stepped away from Charlotte and the doctor, and called the Lasticorp number. The receptionist answered. He introduced himself and asked to speak to Lucy. It took a minute, but she came on the line.

“Is this Lucy?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Lucy, this is Chris Martin. I need to tell you I am at the hospital with Mr. Lehman.”

Chris could hear the quaver in her voice as she asked, “Is he okay?”

“No, Lucy, it’s not good. I found Matt unconscious at his house this afternoon, and we got him to the ER as quickly as we could.”

Chris wasn’t sure how much to tell but figured that the truth was better than a bunch of rumors flying around. He relayed the whole story and hoped she would know who needed to be notified.

At the other end of the phone, Chris could hear Lucy choking back tears.

“Lucy, we’re all shocked, shaken, and hurting right now, but I need you to do your best to make sure that the right people know about this. There is no use in people coming here because Matt is not conscious and is in isolation. His brother Joe is on his way. He will let everyone know when to come. Can I count on you to help?”

Lucy regained a bit of control. “I’ll get people notified.”

Chris thanked her and hung up.

At about 7:30, Joe and Cynthia hurried into the ER waiting room. Chris spotted them and brought them to Charlotte, whom they had not met.

While Chris talked to Joe and Cynthia, Charlotte went to the ER desk and advised that Matthew’s brother had arrived and, if possible, they would like an update from the doctor.

Chris and Charlotte gave Joe and Cynthia all the details they could. The atmosphere was subdued.

Later, an ER nurse came out and advised that the doctor was covered with fresh cases.

“We are planning to move Mr. Lehman to a private room,” the nurse said, “and needed someone to go to admissions.”

Joe and Chris went; Charlotte and Cynthia stayed in the waiting room. The men returned, and not long afterward a nurse advised that Mr. Lehman was being transferred. They got the room number and went to the 11th floor.

Joe noticed it was a psychiatric floor, but it didn’t have restricted access. Charlotte explained that since this was trauma induced by mental stress, they had discussed the possibility of getting the neurologist and the hospital psychiatrist involved. She told them that quick and proper treatment was the best chance to keep Matt’s mind from shutting down.

Cynthia and Joe listened carefully. Soon after, someone escorted Joe and Cynthia to Matt’s room, and they sat with him. The hospital had a two-visitor rule. Chris and Charlotte knew Joe had the greatest need to be with his brother.

At about 10:00 p.m., the head of the psychiatric division stepped in and introduced himself to Charlotte, and she introduced Chris.

They informed the doctor that Matt’s brother was in the room and were sure he could contribute to the history leading to Matt’s collapse.

The Doctor went down the hall, and Chris and Charlotte slumped in the worn chairs of the small commons room for the floor.

Chris noticed Charlotte was trembling. He moved closer. “Are you okay?”

Charlotte exploded in uncontrollable sobs. Chris wanted to say something, but no words came.

“I should have seen the signs,” she blurted. “I should have noticed they were there, but I was too blind to recognize them. I could have helped. I could have made a difference, and now it may be too late. It’s my fault. I’m the reason Matt’s in there like this. Damn! I have screwed this up so badly!”

Chris couldn’t respond. He knew she wasn’t looking for comfort. Chris knew that fear had overwhelmed her, and this was her way of dealing with things.

A movement caught his eye, and looking up, he saw Joe. He wondered how much Joe had heard, and as their eyes met, he knew Joe had heard it all.

Charlotte continued sobbing as Joe stepped near and handed her a handkerchief. She realized who it was and tried to compose herself, mumbling how sorry she was and how she had failed them and failed Matt.

“Damn me to hell!” Charlotte hissed.

***

“Not your fault.” Joe’s voice was firm. “You do not need to be forgiven. This has been coming for years—a time-bomb, and no one could predict when it would explode.”

He sat beside her. “Charlotte, I have been fearing this for a dozen years. I’ve watched him, I’ve tried to talk to the man, and I have done all I could to get him to seek professional help, but he is here because he hid behind work, and most of all, he refused to face his loss.”

Joe was recognizing the truth in his mind as he continued, “I thought it would be because of Marylyn, his wife, but I was wrong. I think he reconciled her loss, at least learned to deal with it. No, it was Elizabeth. He never accepted her passing. Matt locked himself away from the reality that she was gone. He set himself up for this, and I don’t know what happens from here.”

Joe paused, looking directly into Charlotte’s eyes. “My dear, I have also had a friendly talk with the doctors, and from what I heard, the only reason Matt is even alive is because of you. You have already saved him, and now we will all have to hope for a miracle.”

Joe reached out and took Charlotte’s hands in his, kissed each one, and said, “Thank you for being there and at least giving him a chance.” He smiled, got up, and walked back to the room to sit with his brother.

***

Throughout January 3rd, they took turns sitting and watching. Often, Charlotte would pull a chair next to Matt and whisper in his ear. No one could understand everything she said, but she seemed to be trying to tell Matt he was loved, needed, and had so much to live for.

About five in the afternoon, the Head of Psychiatry and another doctor came in.

It seemed the other physician was the head of neurology. He looked at Joe. “I have just heard from the head of neurological research at Wheatley University. She said she is on her way here and will arrive at about ten tonight. She wants to consult on this case personally. Look, I don’t really know who this woman is, but right after she called, I received calls from the hospital administrator and the Dean of Medicine at the University of Missouri, telling me to trust this doctor. She emailed me a list of tests she wants done by the time she arrives. The first is a CAT scan. If the patient is stable, we need to get him down to the scanner. She also wanted ten vials of blood drawn at 9:40, and she said she would process them herself. Damnedest thing I’ve ever heard.”

Joe felt bewildered.

The orderlies came and quickly rolled Matt out and down the hall. Joe and Chris followed, and as they reached the waiting room, they spotted a tall black man talking to Charlotte and Cynthia. He seemed familiar to Chris, then it registered: Marcus from Inter-mol. Chris strode briskly to Marcus and introduced him to Joe.

“Listen, folks,” Marcus said. “Dr. Chang called to discuss an ongoing project and wanted to talk with Matthew. When I told her Matt was in the hospital, she became more than a little aggressive in getting the details and told me she was coming.”

Marcus scratched his head, more than a little bewildered. “My wife, Eloise, is meeting her at the airport and will bring her to the hospital.”

Everyone was curious about why this woman, whom Matt had only met once and spoken to a couple of times, was so adamant about involving herself?

Marcus explained more about who she was. All agreed that, no matter what her motivation, it was good to have her on their side.

A little after six, the orderlies brought Matt back to his room. The head of neurology was waiting and started Matt on a new IV.

“I’m following guidance from Dr. Chang,” he said. “The more I consider her rational, the more I agree with her proposed actions.”

They put an oxygen mask on and started an enriched flow.

Charlotte and Cynthia were in the room and noticed the heart rate slowly start to rise. It had been at about 45 to 50 beats per minute and was now up to eighty.

“They are forcing more oxygen to the brain.” Charlotte said as she and Cynthia watched the changes. “Seems the lady doctor from Houston is making things happen, and she is not even here yet.” Charlotte smiled.

***

Cynthia had left the room to rest, and Joe joined Charlotte. She was again whispering into Matt’s ear and did not notice when Marcus and a woman walked into the room until Marcus spoke.

Charlotte looked up, the woman was maybe five foot seven, maybe a hundred and twenty pounds, with brown hair highlighted, a shapely face, a tanned complexion, a very trim body, dark intense brown eyes, and a very serious expression, she was sure this was the mysterious Doctor Chang.

Marcus introduced them, and Dr. Chang asked if she could look at the patient. Charlotte watched closely. Despite Dr. Chang's professional demeanor, there was something more personal about how this woman touched Matt. She caressed his head and looked into his eyes as if she were trying to gaze deep into his mind. She spent ten minutes doing various reflex movements with Matt’s arms and legs.

She asked to meet with everyone for a few minutes. They gathered in the common area. The head of psychiatry and the head of neurology were both there.

"He is still here," stated Dr. Chang. "Even though he's hidden, we can still get to him. He needs positive stimulation. Talk to him about things he will remember—good memories, strong memories—and even play music he likes. You can show him pictures. The eyes, ears, and senses are all still working, and we just have to keep knocking on the door to that room until the stubborn fool opens up and lets us in!”

To Charlotte, the way Dr. Chang phrased this last statement was more than “doctor speak,” and again, her senses said there was something more involved.

Dr. Chang finally took a deep breath and looked at Charlotte. “Keep talking to him.”

She asked Joe about Matt’s favorite music and anything else he could think of that might trigger memories. Then, Dr. Chang asked to go to the lab, confirmed the blood samples were there, and someone had set up her materials.

At 2:00 a.m., Chris had nodded off, and Cynthia was talking to Matt about Christmas and how special he was. Dr. Chang returned to the waiting room and found Charlotte asleep, while Joe was struggling to stay awake.

Dr. Chang went to the nurse’s station and asked for two cups of black coffee. She carried one to Joe, nudged him, and handed him the coffee. Looking at him, she said, “We need to talk.”

They moved a few seats away and sat down. Dr. Chang started explaining the blood test she had run and how the levels of certain chemicals and enzymes critical to brain function were low. She wanted to know if Joe and Matt had the same blood type. They did B-.

She wanted to give Matthew a transfusion with some agents that would randomly stimulate brain and nervous system activity.

“You will probably see some muscle movement and possibly a mild spasm, but this does not mean that anything is changing,” Dr. Chang said. “This is another way to open the door to the little room Matt is hiding in.”

Joe asked her about the risks or side effects. Dr. Chang said that they were short term and not dangerous. He agreed, and she led him to the nurse’s desk and arranged for him to give blood.

It was about five in the morning when they were ready to start the transfusion. It was obvious that Dr. Chang was exhausted, but she would not lie down or take a break. She sat in Matt’s room in the same chair Charlotte had used, next to Matt’s bed.

***

Charlotte woke at about 6:30 a.m. and saw Joe, Cynthia, and Chris all sleeping on the couches in the waiting room. Rousing herself, she went to the nurse’s station, and they got her a cup of coffee. Charlotte ambled to Matt’s room, wondering if anybody had been keeping watch. When she entered, she had her answer.

There, with her head on his chest and his hand in hers, was Dr. Chang. Charlotte stopped for a minute to take in the scene. She looked closely and saw that Dr. Chang’s mascara had run, leaving a messy smear on her cheek. Tears had been shed. The monitors were still reading a steady heart rate, and his blood pressure was elevated compared to the previous night.

He was still on the enriched oxygen, and there was definitely more color to his face and arms. Charlotte quietly sat down on the other chair in the room.

About 7:00 a.m., a nurse came in to take Matt’s vitals and change the IV bag. As she was doing this, she set off the little beeps on the IV pump that dispensed the fluids.

Dr. Chang jerked to attention and stuttered, “What time is it?”

“It’s right at 7:00, doctor,” the nurse replied.

Dr. Chang tried to straighten herself and noticed that Charlotte was in the other chair.

Charlotte smiled. “Would you like some coffee?”

“Coffee would be a godsend.”

Charlotte stepped out and down to the nurse’s station and got a cup of java for the good doctor. With a cup in one hand and creamer and sugar in the other, she made her way back to the room. Everyone else still slept.

“This isn’t normal for a research PhD to fly on the spur of the moment to see a patient she barely knows,” Charlotte said, handing the coffee to Dr. Chang.

Dr. Chang stared defensively as Charlotte went to the sink, wet a washcloth with warm water, and brought it back. Kneeling in front of Dr. Chang, she gently washed the mascara away and then handed her the washcloth.

Dr. Chang, looking at the cloth, asked, “Is it that obvious?”

“No, not yet.”

Dr. Chang gazed at Charlotte in the face. “I have ignored my heart for most of my life. I’ve been so passionate about my career, education, and research that love was not something I ever thought about. That changed the first time I spoke with Matthew. It was as if an echo of my spirit was speaking to me, and I felt I had found a like soul.” Dr. Chang took a sip of coffee, inhaled the aroma and sighed.

She looked desperately at Charlotte as she continued. “Is that silly or stupid? I’m an intelligent person, and I know not to let my emotions rule my life, but somehow, Matt made a part of me come alive as never before.”

Pausing, she took a deep breath and another sip. “I don’t know why I feel the way I do, but I am sure that if I were to lose him now, before ever having a chance to find out if this is real, my heart would break.”

Charlotte listened calmly, and even though she was totally surprised by the confession, she did understand. She gazed at Dr. Chang and could tell the woman was exhausted, which partially accounted for her letting down her guard and spilling the secrets of her heart.

Charlotte felt for this woman, and more than ever, she appreciated all that she had done to try to help Matt.

Taking Dr. Chang’s hands, Charlotte said, “Let’s keep this just between us, but right now, we need you to get some rest so you can best be able to bring this wonderful man back to us.”

Charlotte trekked once more to the nurse’s station, asking if there was a place where Dr. Chang might lie down. The head nurse said she would find one, and in a matter of minutes, they led Dr. Chang to a bed in an empty room two doors down from Matt.

Charlotte pondered what she had heard and smiled, thinking that if Matt made it back, he would have more to live for than he ever would have imagined.

***

At about 7:30, Chris awoke and realized Charlotte was missing. He inquired at the nurse’s station, and they let him know his wife was in the patient’s room and Dr. Chang was finally getting some sleep.

Chris walked in, and Charlotte was gently talking to Matt about how much he had to live for, and how his life was going to be filled with love and happiness.

“If you ever talk to me like that,” Chris interrupted her, “I’ll do anything you want.”

She laughed a little louder than she had intended. “You already do anything I want, and don’t forget it.”

Chris realized the kids had not heard from them since the previous day. He told Charlotte he was going home to relieve the babysitter and make sure their young ones were okay.

***

Later that morning, Cynthia and Joe were sitting with Matt. Cynthia was eating lunch from a tray provided by the hospital, while Joe talked to Matt about their childhood snowball fights.

He talked about the snow forts they would build and facing off across the yard with a huge supply of snowballs. Joe laughed as he talked about how he always won. His snowballs could always knock holes in Matt’s fort.

“You cheated,” Matt said.

“I did not,” Joe countered.

“Yes, you did. You put rocks in your snowballs.”

Joe realized he was having a conversation with his brother. “They weren’t rocks; they were walnuts.” Both men started giggling.

“He’s awake! You’re awake?” Cynthia’s tray slipped from her lap and onto the floor with a clang as she stood.

Her voice carried all the way to the nurse’s station and waiting room.

Charlotte snapped awake. “He’s awake,” rang down the hall again. She headed down the hall, but instead of going to Matt’s room, she quicksteped to where Dr. Chang slept.

Gently, Charlotte woke Dr. Chang, who quickly got her bearings, her eyes focused on Charlotte, filled with fear.

“You will have your chance to find out if your heart is telling you the truth. He has come back.”

Dr. Chang lunged to her feet and started to leave the room. Charlotte snagged her by the arm and held her. Confused and surprised, she stared at Charlotte, bewildered.

“You do know that before he can love again,” Charlotte spoke quietly, “he must be healed.”

The words hit Dr. Chang like a ton of bricks. The truth of it all but devastated her, and she felt like there was a wall between her and her dreams.

“Look at me.” Charlotte’s voice was soft and passionate.

Dr. Chang turned and gazed at her.

“He will be healed, and you will be a part of that healing, but he must truly grieve for the wife and especially the daughter he lost thirteen years ago. So be patient and remember that though you are ready, he needs time.”

Dr. Chang looked at Charlotte in a new way. Realizing this woman was bright, understanding, knowledgeable, and, sadly, absolutely right. Ling knew she had to get a grip and, for now, be the doctor.

The nurses had come in to verify that Matt’s vitals were stable and to get Cynthia to stop hopping about the room. They notified the heads of the psychiatry and neurology departments.

The staff couldn’t maintain calm in the room until Charlotte raised her voice. “Friends, you may think this is good for Matt, but it’s not. I suggest we give the doctors the time they need to give him a good going-over and confirm everything is as it should be.

Ten minutes later, the Doctor of Neurology walked in with Dr. Chang and went through a series of tests to check reflexes and other physical aspects of Matt’s functions.

***

Seeing Dr. Chang totally surprised Matt, but somehow he felt comforted by her being there. They got him some water and soft food.

***

As they walked out, the head of neurology told Dr. Chang he had never heard of some of the methods she employed and wanted to know if she conducted seminars. They talked, and she gave him her card, inviting him to call in a week or two.

***

Cynthia and Joe were allowed back into the room and sat quietly with Matt. Matt was suddenly very tired. He slept. Joe would nudge him occasionally just to make sure that he was not slipping back into a coma.

***

Charlotte had called Chris and told him Matt was awake, but it would be a while before he was up to hosting guests.

***

At about 1:00 in the afternoon, the head of psychiatry came to the floor and, after reviewing the charts and conversing with Dr. Chang, went to Matt’s room.

He asked to be alone with the patient. When the room was cleared, he closed the door and sat across from Matt.

“Do you know where you are?” he asked.

“In a hospital, from what I can tell,” Matt said.

“Do you know why you are here?” the doctor asked.

“I think I passed out. I must have gotten food poisoning or something.”

“Where were you when you passed out?”

It started coming back. Lizzy’s room. The feeling of paralysis and the realization that she was never coming back.

He looked at the doctor. His voice choked with misery. “She’s gone; they’re both gone.”

The doctor waited a moment to see if Matt said anything else. When he didn’t, the Doctor replied, “Matthew, those are probably the most important words you have ever uttered. Tell me about Lizzy.”

For the next hour, Matt unloaded everything he could about Marylyn and Lizzy. The doctor carefully guided him, affirming the good memories and reminding Matt that those were real and could never be taken away. Matt had spells where he couldn’t speak because his thoughts hurt so badly, but the doctor guided him into other areas and experiences to keep him moving forward.

“Matthew, you’ve dishonored your wife and daughter.”

“You didn’t know them,” Matt screamed. “You didn’t love them. You don’t feel the emptiness and pain every damn day!”

The doctor let Matt vent his anger. The pain became so raw and real that Matt ached in his arms and legs, strained his muscles, and clenched his fist, raging at this man who dared to tell him he disrespected the two people he loved more than life itself.

He slobbered as he spoke and felt his head might explode.

For minutes, the tirade raged. The Doctor watched and listened, and as suddenly as it started, it stopped. Matt collapsed, exhausted, still mad, but no longer with the energy to keep yelling.

The doctor let him lie in silence, his breath panting, sweat on his face, the machines beeping in time with his rapid heartbeat.

Minutes passed, and the thrumming in Matt’s temples diminished. The beeps slowed.

“Matthew,” the doctor said. “No one doubts your love and passion for Marilyn and Elizabeth. Quite the opposite, everyone respects you for how you have revered them. But sadly, in doing so, you have poisoned yourself with denial, refusing to face the fact that they are gone.”

The words hit Matt hard.

"Matt, you are here because deep in your heart, you lied to yourself, believing that maybe it was a big mistake and that they would come home. You kept Elizabeth’s room unchanged so it would be ready for her. Marylyn’s clothes are still in the closet, waiting for her.

“Matthew, you have made yourself very sick and cheated those who love you deeply out of a very special joy—you.”

Matt was dumbstruck. He didn’t know what to say and sat in silence for a long time.

“They love me?”

The Doctor looked him in the eye. “You have no idea how much each person waiting out there cares for you. I think they would lay down their lives for you, and they fought tooth and nail to bring you back.”

He softened his voice. “Matthew, for several hours, you were, for all practical purposes, gone. It was through the extraordinary efforts of those people that you live today.”

The Doctor paused until he was sure he had Matt’s full attention. “If I were in your shoes, I would appreciate what you’ve got and look at how I was going to make every day of my life better so I could fully enjoy the love others want to share with me.

“Matthew,” he said softer, “you need help to heal, and when you have done that, you will be able to move on, free to relish and cherish life. Until then, you will carry a shadow that will keep you from being a complete person.”

The Doctor’s comments had been sobering and enlightening. Matt could see how he had shut people out and how he had trapped himself in a stifled, unemotional world. He needed help.

They finished with a casual conversation. The Doctor said it was enough for the day, and he got up and left.

After the Doctor left, Joe and Cynthia came in and sat. Matt couldn’t look Joe in the eye. After several minutes, he said, “I have been such a fool; please forgive me?”

Both men broke down, letting years of pent-up feelings and fears flow with their tears—cleansing tears.

***

While the men were releasing their burdens, the Doctor was sitting with Dr. Chang and Charlotte. He reviewed what had been discussed and looked straight at Charlotte. “You saved him once. Now, I need your help to make sure he doesn’t slip back into his isolation.”

The Doctor said he would schedule Matt for weekly appointments and needed to be sure he attended.

The psychiatrist also wanted her to take Matt back to his house and get him to talk about memories. He suggested she find objects and ask Matt to tell the story behind them. He was confident Charlotte could identify the good part of the story, something that Matt could hold on to while accepting the loss of his wife and daughter. The emphasis was for Matt to realize that though they are gone; they are not forgotten.

Chris was at home, taking care of the kids. He called Lucy and let her know Matt was awake and that she should check with his brother Joe about visitors coming to the hospital.

With Chris at home, Joe and Cynthia in the room with Matt, Charlotte, and Dr. Chang found themselves sitting alone in the commons room.

Charlotte could tell that Dr. Chang was torn over what to do, so she asked. “Is there anything else medically that you can do here?”

“No, I think my work is done.”

“You have to say goodbye to Matt.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“You can. It’s important that Matt understands you were here for more than just medical reasons. You don’t have to tell him you love him, but he needs to know that you care about him. I think you need to open the door a little.”

Dr. Chang heard Charlotte’s words and clung to them.

“Give me a minute, and I will get you some time alone with him.” Charlotte walked down the hall to the room. A few minutes later, Charlotte, Joe, and Cynthia all emerged. Charlotte said they were going to go to the cafeteria to discuss arrangements for Matt’s discharge. They asked if they could bring Dr. Chang some food back.

Ling said a Coke and a pastry sounded good. She waited a minute after they left and slowly rose and walked towards Matt’s room. She stopped twice, wanting to turn around, afraid she was going to screw this up. Coming to the door, she looked in. Matt saw her immediately.

His face lit up. “Please come in.” He motioned to the chair close to the bed. She sat and just looked at him.

“I understand that without your intervention, I probably wouldn’t be here.”

“There are so many others, and each contributed. I only did a part.”

“Dr. Chang, what you did was extraordinary. I don’t think you came all this way just for the practice. Please talk to me.”

Dr. Chang paused and then took a deep breath. “Matthew, the first thing we have to get straight is that, as far as you are concerned, my name is not Dr. Chang.”

He was surprised, wondering if he had mispronounced it and offended her, which was the last thing he wanted.

She smiled at him, understanding his confusion, and continued, “My name is Ling. I want you to call me by that name.”

“Okay, Ling, if that’s what you want?”

“From the first time we spoke, you have been someone special. You are not just a businessman or a patient. You are the most unique and exciting man I have ever met. I came because you are needed too much to lose. You need to understand that having you back is a hope and a joy to me.”

She hoped she had not dumped too much. Her emotions were fraying at the edges. It took the last of her self-control not to press her lips to Matt’s in desperation.

He smiled; a twinkle sparkled in his eyes. “Knowing you feel that way makes life even more meaningful, and I want life to have all the meaning it possibly can. You are very special, as well.”

Her heart leaped; she wanted to wrap her arms around him and smother him with kisses, but she didn’t. She stood, leaned over, and kissed him gently on the cheek. “I have to go back to Houston today, but I will come back anytime you ask.”

A short while later, she was gone.

***

Another day passed, and Matt’s hospital room was full of flowers and get-well cards. He was flabbergasted by the outpouring, which gave him a new perspective on those he worked with and others.

There were far too many vases for the room, and at Cynthia’s suggestion, they let the hospital distribute many to other patients who were not so fortunate.

Many people from each company came by. Matt would sit in the often-crowded commons room and visit until his energy levels fell.

The nurses were watchful and made sure he took time to rest.

Charlotte, Joe, and Cynthia had agreed that Matt needed to go back to the house. There was no point in postponing the inevitable. Joe and Cynthia would take him and get him settled.

Charlotte was going to go home and clean up. She had been in the same clothes for three days and cringed at how grungy she felt.