Angel of the Night (6 page)

“Okay, but what are they doing to Mike? Is he going to be all right?”

Wendy stopped and looked at Henry. She saw in his eyes a deep compassion for his friend. She saw a gentleness that belied Henry’s size and a kindness that belied his career as a warrior for the United States Army. Most of all, she saw a man who might be polite while she was chattering away about privacy regulations and what a difficult job it was to be a nurse, but who really just wanted to know about his friend.

“This is a good, solid man. This is someone who has a heart like a lion,”
she thought.

Aloud she said, “I’m sure that he’s going to be fine. The thoracic region is basically the chest and upper back. In the neck, it begins at T-1 of the vertebra (she demonstrated by pointing to her own neck), and extends to the last rib, front and back (she pointed to the bottom part of her rib cage). So we don’t know what the doc is looking for. They are being thorough, though.”

Henry nodded his understanding. “I just want him to be okay. We’ve talked about goin’ huntin’ together when we get back home. He says that his wife makes the best marionberry cobbler in Oregon, and he wants me to taste it.

Wendy had never tasted marionberry anything, but she thought that it sounded delicious. She glanced at her watch and realized that she hadn’t eaten anything in 16 hours. It was little wonder that Henry’s offhand remark about cobbler had made her mouth water.

“Henry would you like to grab a bite with me in the cafeteria downstairs?” she said as they entered the elevator.

“Henry smiled. “That would be excellent! I could eat a steer!”

The two new friends chose from the cafeteria buffet. Wendy chose a chef’s salad with ranch dressing, and a slice of cherry pie. Henry’s plate was a little more…comprehensive! He had selected two cheeseburgers from the grill and put a basket full of fries on top of his burgers. Then he had rifled the fruit portion of the buffet, taking an apple, an orange, a grapefruit, two apricots, a handful of figs, and a half cup of raisins. Topping it all off was three brownies, and a piece of angel food cake with a mound of whipped cream that was a testimony to the stackable characteristics of whipped cream out of a can.

“My word,”
Wendy thought
. I hope Henry’s wife can cook like Mike says that his wife can.”

At the table, Wendy witnessed a man who truly enjoyed his food, yet Henry was a fastidiously neat eater. She realized that when she had seen Henry’s tray she expected him to be like a pig at the trough, but she had been mistaken. The more conversation that they shared, the more Wendy and Henry realized how much they had in common. Both of them loved American football as well as soccer and anything having to do with the outdoors. Henry had been raised in the Bismark/Mandan area in North Dakota while Wendy had grown up in Racine, Wisconsin.

“What two cold weather kids like us are doing in the Afghan desert is a little trick of God's” Henry said with a smile that reached into, and lit up, his eyes. Wendy smiled back. She discovered Henry’s friendly and open face to be a smile magnet. “I know, huh?” she said. “We would have been right at home in, I don’t know, Antarctica!” Curious about her new friend’s family situation Wendy probed a little deeper. “Are you married? Do you have brothers and sisters? Tell me about Henry,” she said, clasping her fingers together and resting her chin on them.

Henry dabbed at his lips with a napkin before beginning to speak. He had been observing Wendy over the course of lunch and realized how much he wanted to make a good impression on the attractive nurse.
“She may be a Packers’ fan,”
thought the diehard Vikings supporter.
“But she’s just about cute enough that I could forgive that…maybe.”
Smiling to himself about the inner dialogue, Henry told Wendy his story.

“Well, I have two brothers and a little sister. I’m a middle child, I guess you would say. Both of my brothers are older. Glenn is 31, wife and two kids. Taylor is 28 and single…just like me.”

“And your sister?”

“Nan is 22 and in graduate school to become a computer programmer. She’s in her last year at Purdue. She’s not married but has a fiancé in the same program down in West Lafayette.”

Wendy looked up at the ceiling. “Sometimes I wish I knew more about computer programming and the like,” she said. “The computers that we work with here are always crashing or doing crazy things that we don’t understand. We could really use the expertise that your sister and her guy could offer.”

Henry laughed. “It’s true. The computer nerds are going to rule the world. I just know it.”

Wendy joined Henry as he laughed. She wondered if Henry saying, “…like me” about being single just denoted sharing in an open and forthright way or was a piece of information that he wanted her to have. Wendy knew that he was someone that she was just getting to know. But, so far, she was enjoying the process. Wendy’s reverie was interrupted when Henry was approached from behind by a very worried looking young man.

“Washoe!”

“Sorry to interrupt, ma’am” the newcomer said quickly to Wendy before turning his attention back to Henry Washoe. You’re friends with Michael Kitcavage, right?”

Henry’s face took on a look of concern. “Kitcavage is my friend, yes. Why?”

“Captain Peterson just told me that Kitcavage isn’t doing well! You should come quick!”

Henry threw his napkin down on his plate and was up and gone without a word to Wendy. He followed the bearer of the unfortunate news out the door quickly. Wendy bussed the table and quickly headed for the Glynnis Unit herself.
“What could have happened?’
she thought. “
He was doing so well.”

The news coming out of Room 3D of the Glynnis Unit was bad, almost to the point of grave. Pfc. Randall R. Kitcavage had gone into renal failure. He was in critical condition. Wendy caught up with Henry just after Michael Kitcavage had been transported to the intensive care wing of the medical center. The big man looked shaken to the core of his being. He caught Wendy’s hug but broke the hug to look into her eyes. “Renal failure is what?” he asked.

Wendy took a deep breath as she decided what to say. She didn’t want to alarm Henry, but the truth couldn’t be sugar-coated. Michael Kitcavage was a very sick young man. “Renal failure is the loss of kidney function. It’s a rare, but dangerous, result of heat stroke, unfortunately. The kidneys lose their ability to function as a filter of the body’s impurities. As kidney function decreases, the body loses its ability to regulate water. In severe cases, the kidneys lose their capacity to clear waste products from the body, and fail to promote red blood cell production.”

Henry shook his head as if in disbelief. “But I don’t understand. He seemed to be doing so well when we saw him last.”

Wendy nodded. “He did. You’re right about that. But renal failure can start out asymptomatically. That means…”

Henry interrupted. “I know what that means!” he snapped. “It means that he didn’t have any symptoms or any way that we could tell what was wrong. But why didn’t his doctor run tests or something?”

“Renal failure is so rare in heat stroke patients and, like you said, Michael seemed to be doing so well that the doctor probably thought that a kidney function test wasn’t indicated by the patient’s outward condition. He should have run tests, though. I’m sure that he wishes now that he had.”

“I just can’t believe it,” Henry said to no one in particular. Then he refocused on Wendy.

“What happens now? I know that they’re moving him to ICU. But what happens there? Is he going to be okay?”

Wendy’s heart went out to this young man who had just been beginning to deal with the pain and guilt of having been a part of Kitcavage being in the Glynnis Unit in the first place. Now, with Kitcavage’s life hanging in the balance, the grief that Wendy had seen days before had returned to Henry Washoe’s face.

“I…I wish that I knew, Henry. The doctors here are the best in the Afghan Theater, but they also aren’t miracle workers. Here is what will happen now. The doctors will examine Michael’s medical history to figure out if he has any underlying diseases that could complicate treatment. If he has a family history of high blood pressure, for example, that would make it harder for them to treat him. Adult onset diabetes would be a concern too.”

Henry interrupted. “Wouldn’t Mike know if he had either of those things?”

“Probably. He would know if he had a history of high blood pressure for sure, but a lot of people have adult onset diabetes and don’t know it. Recent studies indicate that millions of people had adult onset diabetes for 10 years before it was even diagnosed. Anyway, the odds are a little better than even that Mike doesn’t have either of those. In that case, there is a chance that the doctor will be able to restore the diminished blood flow that was caused by the heat stroke and Mike will be able to live a healthy life. In all likelihood, they won’t even send him home.”

Henry wanted to grasp at the hope brought about by Wendy’s words, but he needed to ask one more question. “You said ‘a chance’ that the doctor will be able to restore the diminished blood flow. How much of a chance? Give me a percentage. I know that you don’t know for sure, but just tell me the chances.” Wendy paused, but her respect for Henry Washoe precluded her being anything but honest. “About 50/50, Henry.”

Henry swallowed hard before asking a follow-up question. “And if they can’t will he…live?”

“Say a prayer for him, Henry. Say one for the doctors, as well. If they caught it early enough, he has a chance. That’s all I can say.”

That night, Wendy took her own advice and prayed for Michael, and for the medical staff that would be treating him. Then, before getting ready for bed, she added an additional prayer.

Dear Lord, Please be with Henry during this time, as well. He’s a good and decent man who made a mistake.

While Wendy had no doubt that her prayer was heard, the news about Michael Kitcavage was no better the next day. He had slipped into a light coma overnight. Wendy knew that a coma, though frightening to friends and family of a patient, doesn’t always have to be bad news. Sometimes it’s just the body’s mechanism of focusing on the healing process. Kitcavage’s body had work to do, and didn’t need the added load of consciousness to interfere. The coma that Kitcavage had retreated into was a definite sign, though, that things were not yet improving for the young man.

Henry Washoe never left the intensive care unit. Literally, never left. His commanding officer had taken compassion on the young man and let him off of work for a few days. Henry knew that soon he was going to need to go back to work. The Commanding Officer's patience wouldn’t last indefinitely. But it was as if he were trapped in the ICU. He had tried to leave more than once, but a force greater than himself brought him back to continue his vigil over his friend.

The medical personnel who were working with Kitcavage soon got to know the big man with the worried look on his face. They offered occasional updates on Kitcavage’s condition, but there was little that they could tell Henry. “No change” was the phrase that Henry both dreaded and needed to hear. Since Michael wasn’t getting worse, didn't that mean that he was getting better? But why didn't he wake up?

Finally, after three days without a shower, contact with the outside world, or hardly anything to eat, Henry reluctantly left the waiting area inside the intensive care unit. He had to go to work in just four hours. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to sleep, regardless of how much his body was craving slumber. But he also knew that he owed it to his buddies and co-workers to take a shower. With one final query of Mike Kitcavage’s nurses as they changed shifts, Henry went back to his CHU to take a much-needed bath.

Henry and Mike Kitcavage were supply technicians on the air base. Officially their job was to provide services in support of inventory control, storage, and distribution. In plain English, it meant that they were supposed to find stuff. Henry went to work every day intending to give a full day’s work for a full day’s pay. It was his attention to detail and overall good humor in a sometimes stressful job that made him a popular fellow at work. It was also his work ethic that had given him some leeway with the boss when Michael Kitcavage had gotten worse.

Henry’s scheduled time on duty began at 1600 hours and concluded at 0100 hours the next morning. Shortly before midnight Jack McLaren, a civilian intern at the medical center, walked into Henry’s work space with a folded note that had been hastily addressed to Henry Washoe.

Henry was on the phone searching out replacement parts for a transmission for one of the officer staff Hummers on base. Even though Hummers are manufactured in Shreveport, Louisiana, meaning that there shouldn’t have been a language barrier, Henry was experiencing trouble with the modified Cajun accent on the phone. Just as he was translating “Jabol” from the chatty auto parts man on the other end of the line into “Do you bowl?” Jack McClaren put the note in front of the frustrated Private Washoe.

While the sudden silence on the phone in Louisiana was probably explained away by the auto parts man as an occupational hazard of trying to communicate 9,000 miles away, the reality was quite different. Henry read “Kitcavage is awake” on the note and disconnected without meaning to dump the call. Henry grabbed the much smaller Jack McLaren in a bear hug, hoisting him in the air as if he were weightless.

“Put me down, you big oaf!” McLaren said with a smile. Everyone who worked within the confines of Kabul Air Base knew about the vigil that the big man was holding for his fallen friend. McLaren was only too glad to have been the one who had the chance to pass on the happy news.

“Sorry, McLaren,” Henry said. “But I’m sure that you liked it better that I picked you up than do the other thing that I thought of doing.”

Henry punctuated his last sentence by puckering his kips and taking a threatening step toward McLaren…who promptly shrieked and ran out the door.

Henry wanted to leave for the medical center as soon as possible, but he didn’t want to tell his C.O. that there was an auto parts man in Louisiana who was waiting for a call that would never come. So a brand new call was placed to northwest Louisiana, and the transaction to get the transmission part was completed after a brief apology from Henry about the “dropped call.”

Henry went into the next office, intending to see if it would be okay to leave work an hour early. His C.O. while pleased that Kitcavage was apparently improving, needed Henry to stay to the end of his shift.

“We’re backed up here, Washoe. You know that. Having Kitcavage laid up is putting a strain on us all. See these?” he said, holding up a pile of papers that was easily two inches thick. “These are requisition forms asking for everything from toilet seats to a computer motherboard for a jet engine. Stay until 0100 like your schedule says. Kitcavage will keep.”

Henry knew that his boss had gone above and beyond in letting him take three days off. And the C.O. was right. Without Kitcavage, everyone who worked in supply had to step up his game. Henry went back to his own office, still anxious to leave but satisfied, nevertheless, that his friend was awake. That had to be good news. He was sure.

As it turned out, Michael Kitcavage’s waking up was good news. It didn’t mean that he was out of the woods, but it was a step in the right direction. Only time and his kidney function would tell the tale of whether or not the young man would be able to resume his career. Henry Washoe finally got a chance to visit his friend the day after Kitcavage had awakened. There was a five minute time limit for visitation in intensive care, but that was enough time for Henry to see that his friend was both truly awake, and truly recovering.

Wendy was working an extended shift, covering for a fellow nurse who had developed a bad reaction to a vaccination. In addition to the standard shots that the soldiers and support personnel had to endure before going to Afghanistan there are a number of other shots that either needed to be taken for the first time, or boosted occasionally, while in the country. Among these are injections for Hepatitis B, Malaria, and Yellow Fever. First Lieutenant Annie Beck had taken ill as a result of her Yellow Fever shot and would be off work for several days. Hence Wendy was at her post for a little over 11 hours. While she was working, Wendy received a message that Private Henry Washoe wanted to see her as soon as she was free.

“Oh dear,”
she thought.
“I hope Michael is doing okay.”

Wendy knew that the news was good as soon as she saw Henry. Having only known Henry for a few days Wendy didn’t know that the lines on his forehead and between his eyes were signs of worry. The Henry that stood before her now looked as if he had lost eight years off of his face. Henry greeted Wendy in a way that startled her, but had become to be expected by Henry’s close friends. He picked Wendy up and spun her around.

“He’s awake! Mike is awake!” Henry said.

Wendy whooped with joy! For sure she was happy for poor Pfc. Michael Kitcavage, but her joy was made complete by Henry’s exuberant reaction. Wendy wasn’t sure what it was about Henry Washoe, but something about being with him made her more likely to laugh and see the silly side of life.

“I like this guy! I really do. He makes me smile,”
Wendy thought as she caught her breath after being spun in the air and unceremoniously deposited back on the ground.

“When did he wake up? Did you see him? What did he say? What did the doctor say?” The questions rushed out of Wendy’s mouth as fast as she could say them. Usually considered one of the quiet and reserved nurses in the medical service, Wendy found herself caught up in Henry’s boyish enthusiasm.

Henry listened to her questions and tried to answer them in the order in which they were asked. “He woke up about four hours ago. I saw him but just for a very short time. He told me that, while he was happy to see me, he would have been happier seeing a rib eye steak. I haven’t had a chance to talk to the doctor yet. No doctor had even seen him long enough to do a complete exam when I was there.”

Wendy nodded, thinking about her intensive care rotation when she was a resident at the University Hospital in Madison, Wisconsin. Vital signs are taken, and a perfunctory exam was undertaken as soon as a patient in Michael Kitcavage’s condition awakened. Within a couple of hours, a complete workup was done, at which time an evaluation of his prognosis could be determined.

“If he’s been awake for four hours a doctor has seen him, “Wendy said. “You’ve already seen him once today so they may not let you in, but I haven’t used up my visit yet! Let’s go see what we can find out!”

Good news and bad news awaited Wendy and Henry when they arrived at intensive care. Neither of them was going to be able to see Michael…because he had already been transferred to a ward in the general medical wing of the Glynnis Unit.

“That’s a good thing, right?” Henry asked when Wendy told him the news.

“That’s a VERY good thing. Usually they keep a patient who has been comatose in intensive care for a day after he wakes up. Your friend must have really answered all of the qualifying questions well.”

Henry was curious about what Wendy had said. “Qualifying questions? What qualifying questions?”

“When a patient regains consciousness after a coma he or she will usually have some holes in their memory. They may remember their name and the name of their first grade teacher, but can’t remember their spouse’s middle name or even how many kids they have. These are called ‘coma craters.’ They aren’t considered serious because they usually go away over a short period of time. The questions that a doctor will ask his patient start out as routine questions about the patient’s name, age, date of birth, Social Security number. Then they ask deeper questions. Like what was your first car, or where was your maternal grandmother born. Usually some of the questions will fall into the coma crater. The fact that Michael is in the hospital's general population means that the doctor couldn’t find a crater. They told us that he was in a light coma. It must have been a light one indeed.”

Henry’s smile creased his face from ear to ear. “Do you think they’ll let us see him? I mean right now?”

“I think it’s worth a try, Henry my boy. I think it’s worth a try.”

The head of Michael Kitcavage’s hospital bed was propped up, and he had two pillows under his neck to lift his head even more upright. This was so he was more readily able to see “South Park” on the television set that hung from the ceiling above his head. Kitcavage was snorting over the antics of Eric Cartman on the cartoon when Henry and Wendy walked in. Michael switched off the television and spoke with mock sternness to Henry.

“Well. you’re doing a little better, but you’re not all the way there yet. I told you that I wanted a rib eye. This time you bring me a pretty girl and, while I appreciate the gesture, I’m hungry! Bring me a steak!”

Henry got to the bed in a single bound. He grabbed the hand that wasn’t connected to a saline I.V. and pumped it for all he was worth.

“You look great, Mike! You look great!” then to Wendy, “Doesn’t he look great?”

Wendy had to agree. She didn’t know for sure how Michael looked when he was in the pink of health, but the patient lying before her had definitely improved in appearance since he had been in the hospital. The sun injury was going to leave some scarring. There was no doubt about that. Wendy’s trained nurse’s eye could tell that Michael Kitcavage’s face was always going to show a little wear and tear from his ordeal. But that was of little concern right now. Michael was going to live! Just then Dr. Jiminu knocked softly on the door and came in. He nodded an acknowledgment to Wendy, obviously remembering her role in saving the patient’s life, and walked over to the bed. “Well hello Private Kitcavage. How are we feeling today?”

Michael reached up to take the doctor’s outstretched hand. “I’m feeling pretty good, doctor. I guess it’s up to you to tell me if I’m doing as well as I’m feeling.”