Siobhan's Beat (3 page)

Once he closed the conference room door, Siobhan's family assembled around the oblong table, and formal introductions took place. AJ paid close attention, wanting to figure out dynamics and relationships.

The three women, he discovered, weren't Siobhan's sisters. Not by blood, anyway. Rather, these were three extremely close, long-time friends. The first to extend her hand was a red-head named Maeve; next came a statuesque brunette, Aileen, who didn't stray too far from the brother's side. In conclusion, AJ greeted Kassidy who had long, chestnut hair and the face of a model.

AJ claimed a chair at the head of the table and kicked off the consult. “First, let's review what we know.” He tapped into Siobhan's e-chart, studying the patient profile that had been assembled by admissions. “Siobhan Douglas is twenty four, in top physical condition, with no known health issues. She was in a single-vehicle automobile accident that, according to the police report, didn't occur due to any form of driver negligence. Evidently, slick roads and a rain/snow mix coupled with the downhill trajectory of the car caused her to lose control. A seatbelt saved her life and a guardrail kept her from going over a twenty-foot embankment, but that same guardrail collapsed the driver's side door on impact and pinned her inside, breaking the tibia of her left leg as it caved in.

He looked up briefly, slowing the pace of his clinical analysis once he noticed quivering chins and glittering eyes from the women present. Meanwhile, the two men held jaws clenched and faced him almost fiercely.

AJ continued. “It was a clean break, so I don't foresee complications, and if she heals comfortably, recovery should progress with rapid results.” He angled his computer so they could view the screen. “As you can see in her x-ray, the break happened here.” He used a pen tip to delineate. “Our biggest concern will be getting her through rehab once the bones heal and rejoin, and I'm also concerned about internal injuries. Her body was pinned, and jarred pretty severely, hence the pain she indicated when she woke up. Her left arm is badly bruised, swollen and wrapped to help minimize the sprain she endured. Additionally, in the ER, she had issues with nausea and a severe bout of dizziness. A lingering condition called vertigo seems to be in need of monitoring.”

“The leg bone.” Maeve, the redhead, spoke first. “We're talking about the bone that supports her weight, correct?”

“One of them, yes.”

The woman's expression fell into lines of sorrow—and fear. “Could there be a worse injury for a dancer?”

“Yes, the Achilles, or a spiral break of the tib-fib, which would be a compound break. She can recover from this. Fully.
Given time
.”

Coop hadn't meant to challenge, or be sharp, but he wanted them to realize Siobhan was fortunate. All attention homed in on the slightly hazed, gray and white cast image on his computer screen and the assemblage continued to absorb the shock of being thrust into a nightmare.

At length, Kassidy blew out through pursed lips and crossed her arms against her midsection. “I know our Siobhan. First question she'll ask? What's the timeline for recovery?” She reached up to worry the necklace at her throat—a delicate cross.

She met Coop's gaze in a direct, no-nonsense manner he instantly respected. “She'll be here for two or three days because I want her monitored. Yes, her bones need to set, but right now, I'm equally concerned about the as yet invisible injuries she might have sustained to her chest, head, and internal organs. I want to be sure her body resettles properly. Her symptoms indicate a severely jarred body. While in our care, she'll be on a regimen of tramadol and non-steroidal anti-inflammatories to keep her comfortable and reduce swelling. I've also prescribed medications to combat the nausea and dizziness. The goal for now is to keep her leg as stable as possible. I forecast eight to ten weeks in a cast with non-weight bearing activity—meaning crutches will be necessary. After that, intensive physical therapy will assist in re-strengthening the muscles around the healed bone.”

Liam squeezed the bridge of his nose. Dark stubble shadowed his chin; his eyes bore the tell-tale strain of one drained and exhausted. “How are we going to break this to her?”

“By helping her to keep something very important in mind. She's lucky.” AJ spoke into the silence that followed Liam's question. “I know it doesn't feel that way right now, but it's the truth. She'll make it. It's going to be painful, and difficult, but if she commits to rehab, she'll be OK.”

Liam lifted his head. “Like Maeve said, Doctor, Siobhan is a dancer. A
professional
dancer. We're talking about a half-year before her life returns to normal, aren't we? Plus, can she come back as strong as she was following this kind of physical punishment?”

Not an uncommon question—or reaction. AJ leaned forward and met Liam's gaze head on. “Let me ask you something before I answer your question. How motivated will she be? How determined? How much does dance mean to her?”

“It's everything to her, because it's her gift.”

AJ acknowledged that statement from Aileen and nodded. “Then that's what will see her through. Returning to what she loves is entirely up to her. My professional opinion is yes, absolutely she can come back, but she's going to face battles. She's an athlete. That's a blessing and a curse. Athletes, more than most, need to relearn how to trust their bodies again following a serious injury. Can she do that?”

“She can do anything. Anything at all. She's a spirited, determined woman. She's a fighter.”

Maeve spoke, striking Coop as the type of woman who lived up to the mythical, spirited dynamic of one with Irish blood who wore a crown of bright red hair.

“That's good.” AJ studied the group and fingered his pen. “She's going to need to be. That's the down side. On the up side, as the one overseeing Siobhan's case, I want to tell you how impressed I am by her physical condition. I believe the leg injury in particular will heal faster than normal, and that puts us ahead of the curve when it comes to recovery and rehab. There's good news to be found here. Cling to it, and help her do the same. That's the best advice I have to give at this point.”

 

 

 

 

3

 

The nightmare is real.

That realization exploded through Siobhan's mind as she drifted once again toward wakefulness.

Every pulse beat stirred pain. Her body burned and ached. She craved lucidity, but every time she climbed those merciless stairs toward being alert and remaining conscious, she experienced such agony she had no choice but to depress that stinking release valve which would slide a dose of medicine into her system and sweep discomfort…and consciousness…clear away.

Once again, she struggled to awaken. Her throat was parched, her lips cracked and dry. Assailed by continuous needle pricks of pain that sparked the length of her left arm and leg, she worked desperately to delay the administration of pain killers. She fought to stay conscious, even though the effort was an unceasing battle against torment. And her thoughts were haunting—sometimes terrifying. First came the memory of her car spinning wildly out of control. Then, just as often and just as quickly now, another image materialized: the strong and assuring features of a compelling man with light hair and the most captivating, dark blue eyes. In memory, she could hear him speak in that calm, soothing voice. Doctor Cooper, she recalled. His gentleness had helped her cope with a heart ready to thunder straight out of her sore and bruised chest when fear executed its fierce grip.

For a moment, Siobhan forced herself to stillness and went through a mental checklist meant to reinforce familiarity. First, she was in the hospital. Second, she had been in an accident—a pretty serious one, evidently. Third, her left leg and arm were immobile. Fourth, pain dominated her world, a brand-spanking new chief nemesis.

“Siobhan? Siobhan?”

Aileen.
The sound of Aileen Brewer's gentle voice called Siobhan from the temptation of inky black oblivion. She wanted to move her head and see her friend, but it took too much strength, and any form of movement caused her body to rebel with nausea and dizziness. Of course, Aileen would be at her side. Likely taking shifts with Liam and the others. Her precious family—some by blood, some by heart alone. Siobhan wanted to cry with joy and relief but couldn't muster enough moisture for tears.

With that thought, a new line-item materialized on her list of most recent memories—the recollection of a phone call from Aileen that had occurred when she was driving home from work…just before the accident…when her entire world changed…dreams to nightmares. Light to dark.

Groaning, she tossed beneath the blankets that covered her body. How long had she been asleep this time? What day of the week was it?

A flood of anxiety made ready to roll through her body, but cool fingertips moved against her forehead and cheeks, sliding hair away from her face. Aileen's touch. Instantly Siobhan calmed.

“Stay awake, sweetie. Stay with us. We miss you!”

“Thirsty. So thirsty.”

“Here you go.”

That wasn't Aileen. That was Liam.

Thoroughly disoriented, fighting to do as Aileen asked, Siobhan swallowed, but her dry throat stung. She wet her lips in eager anticipation of water. Liam stepped into view, kind eyes and all, folding a flexi-straw toward her mouth. The straw was inserted into the lid of a plastic cup, and Siobhan took in the offering of cool, refreshing water with unladylike greed.

That made her brother grin. “We need to let Doctor Cooper know saline alone isn't cutting it anymore. That's a good thing. How's the pain?”

“Awful.”

Kind eyes dimmed. “I wish I could take it away.”

Siobhan swiveled her head toward Aileen, who had come into view next to Liam, beside the bed where that wretched labyrinth of IV lines and monitor cords snaked away into some form of patterned chaos. Hospitals. Yuck and
double
yuck.

Her head began to throb, slow at first, but with an increasing tempo and disruptive impact. Her thumb hovered near the button of the pain dispenser. “OK, I'm with you—for now anyway. What am I up against? How long…how long have I been here?”

“Almost sixteen hours,” Aileen answered quietly, smiling into her eyes, holding her uninjured hand. Siobhan curved her fingers tight, clinging to the lifeline offered by her friend. Siobhan noticed the way that small gesture made Aileen smile and even stirred a glittery sheen of moisture across her eyes.

A sudden involuntary reflex caused the fingertips of her left hand to twitch.
Ouch
. Siobhan released a soft exclamation which made Aileen jump.

“I'm OK, I'm OK.” Siobhan's assurance was accompanied by a hissed breath. “I just can't think straight.”

Aileen gave Liam an expectant look. “Why don't we give her adrenal glands a little kick start? It's time for some good news, don't you think?” Liam slipped an arm around Aileen's waist then gave her a smile and a go-ahead nod.

Siobhan scowled, grouchy and sore. “Adrenals. Quips about saline. You guys are acting like a couple of doctors.”

“Not for long.” Liam paused. “Pretty soon we'll be acting like a couple of newlyweds.”

That sassy response provided Siobhan with a miracle—a split-second of shock so intense, so perfect and beautiful she forgot all about the pain.

“Wh…wha…what…?”

Tears crested Aileen's lashes. Lips trembling, she beamed an enormous smile, extending her left hand to reveal a three-stone sparkler that drew an admiring gasp from Siobhan, despite her debilitated state. Married. Ailee—and Liam. She had always hoped—she had always prayed they would find their way to each other, but the reality of their announcement was too awesome to take in all at once.

“This was our news. This was what I was enticing you with, and teasing you about during that
wretched
phone call.”

Siobhan couldn't believe what she was hearing…and seeing. Her heart leapt. Despite all physical odds, happiness swelled and tears filled her eyes. “Not a wretched phone call at all. It was wonderful.”

Aileen continued, bittersweet excitement blooming. “The record deal is great, but…but…he's the man of my dreams, and…” She choked on a sob. “I was so happy, and this moment was supposed to be so different. Please forgive me for what happened. All I could think of after Liam proposed was seeing you face-to-face. I never meant to joke with you about driving off a cliff. That was so crass.”

Siobhan shook her head, mindless of the pain that pushed at her temples. “You had no idea. None of us did. I'm so happy for you both. This is incredible!”

Aileen bent and kissed Siobhan's cheek. “You're going to be my sister. For real and for always.”

Siobhan's tears tracked hot and strong down her cheeks. She squeezed her eyes shut, not knowing whether to rejoice or crumble away and simply dissolve. Aileen was right—this moment was so precious—so many dreams were coming true, but Siobhan couldn't even celebrate. She was incapacitated. A broken dancer. In the midst of so much joy, God's will had thrust her into the midst of her worst nightmare.

Why, she wondered.
Why?

 

 

 

 

4

 

AJ unfolded from the chair behind his desk. His office space at Westerville Memorial was small but he didn't mind. It was functional, and other than wrestling episodes with paperwork—like the stack of reports he had just completed—he didn't spend much time within its walls. Preparing for rounds, he lifted a white lab coat from its spot on a hook behind the door. In a few short hours, he'd be able to go home and tumble into bed, but before calling it a day, he wanted to check on his patients.

And he intended to conclude informal rounds with a visit to Siobhan Douglas. Almost two days had passed since her admission, and he had to admit, something about her story pulled at him. It happened that way from time to time. No matter how hard he tried to distance himself from the more personal aspects of providing health care, there were instances when the dynamic of a patient's recovery, or a set of circumstances within their life, slipped beneath his skin and grew roots in his spirit.