I stood there looking at Mr. Li, feeling the power in me for an unknown amount of time. Finally the sensation receded, leaving only a small core inside me. I felt like myself physically but at the same time I could feel the power tucked away, just waiting for release.
"Thank you Mr. Li," I finally said to his body. "Thank you for everything."
He had no answer for me. I left his house a few minutes later and climbed onto my Honda. I didn't head for home right away. Instead I took a long drive.
It was after midnight when I finally parked my motorcycle in the garage and carried myself into the house. My mind seemed clearer than it had been, more focused, more in perspective. I was beginning to grasp the depth of the gift I'd been given, the responsibility that went along with it. Just beginning mind you, I had a lot more growing to do, a lot more maturity to acquire.
I tossed my helmet on my workbench and forced my way between the cars and into the house. It was darkened, as you would expect at that time of night, everyone asleep, no one with any idea of how close they'd come to being simply erased or put into an alternate path.
I checked on Laura. She was three and a half years old, her face so much like her mother's. She likes to throw the covers off along with her pajamas as she sleeps. I found her curled in a ball in her room, her little butt sticking up, her thumb tucked into her mouth, her body shivering in the air conditioning. I put the covers back over her knowing it was an exercise in futility. Twenty minutes later they'll be off again.
I checked on Jason who was almost two. He is the opposite of Laura. He has covers piled thickly atop him. He has a collection of Hot Wheel cars that he can never keep confined to one place. I stepped on them in my bare feet as I gazed upon his sleeping form, as I listened to his soft breathing.
A short trip down the hall brought me to Megan's room. She was nine months old, almost ready to begin walking and talking. The first and only child to adapt my facial features. She is an aficionado of stuffed animals and they cover her bed, sometimes making it difficult to find her in there. She is also a poor sleeper, waking at the slightest noise. She hears my entrance into her room. She creaks her brown eyes open and gazes at me sleepily. I kiss her, hug her, tell her everything is okay and she drifts back to sleep.
I went to my own bedroom where Nina was sleeping soundly on her side of our King sized bed. Like Laura, she's not a big fan of either clothing or covers when sleeping. She's dressed only in a pair of panties, her breasts bare, her pillow hugged tightly to her face. In the dim light I could see the stretch marks on her stomach and the single line of scar that marks Megan's entrance into the world via caesarian section. Megan had been in the breach position. I looked at my wife with love, with deep feelings of gratitude towards Mr. Li, who made all of this possible.
I continued to stare at Nina, at her firm breasts, her bare thighs, her scarred but still flat stomach. We are happy together, still deliriously in love after more than fourteen years of marriage. We make love at least twice a week, often more. We sit together on the couch or in the bed or on the deck outside after she gets home from a day at the hospital and we do what we have always done best, we talk. Nina is still my best friend but she is still ignorant of the secret that I carry. She had no idea that a cosmic clock had nearly ticked away our life together. And she never will.
As if sensing my thoughts she mumbled in her sleep, rolling to one side, kicking the last vestiges of the covers off of her body. Her eyes opened and she saw me standing in the doorway, looking at her.
"Bill?" she asked sleepily, stifling a yawn, "what's the matter?"
"Nothing Babe," I told her reassuringly, "I was just checking on the kids. Go back to sleep."
"Are you sure you're okay?"
I gave her a smile. "Perfectly okay," I assured her. "Everything is just fine."
AN id=title>
Chapter 1
"I wanna go back and do it all over, but I can't go back I know I wanna go back cause I'm feeling so much older but I can't go back I know" – EDDIE MONEY
I was feeling stressed that day. That was why I said what I did to the old man. In retrospect it was perhaps the wisest thing I've ever said in my life.
I picked him up at a convalescent home in suburban Spokane; a withered, emaciated ninety year old. His race was indeterminable, he was so withered by time but his name on the bank of paperwork the con home staff had given me identified him as So Li, which, I was reasonably sure, made him Chinese. He was suffering from cancer, not just to one particular body part but throughout his entire body. I took one look at him and knew he wasn't long for this world. His breathing was ragged and irregular, his skin pale and feverish. His body probably weighed about seventy-five pounds if he was lucky. There was absolutely no muscle in evidence upon his bones and his flesh hung loosely from every extremity. Despite all of this he was mentally quite aware of his surroundings, something else I recognized almost immediately.
"How are you doing Mr. Li?" I asked him, bending over his form on the hospital bed.
"Can't…" He puffed softly. "Breathe." He finished.
I nodded, taking the stethoscope out of the leg pocket of my jumpsuit and putting it in my ears. I listened to his lungs, hearing nothing but bad news. He was barely moving any air at all. I'd been a paramedic for eight years but even a newbie could have seen that Mr. Li's survival on the trip to the hospital was in question. He needed a breathing tube placed in his lungs to help him.
The nurse (and I use that term loosely) was the epitome of white trash. Bleach blonde, sixty or so pounds overweight, and chewing a large wad of bubble gum as she peered at us. She'd placed a facemask on him but had only turned the flow to two liters per minute. The effect of this was to give him LESS oxygen than was available in the atmosphere, since the mask was a closed system. Business as usual in the con home. My partner, without being asked, switched the supply tubing to our portable tank and cranked it up to fifteen liters per minute. This helped Mr. Li a little, but not much.
"He needs to be intubated." I said to no one in particular, referring to the placement of a breathing tube.
"No, no, no!" The nurse yelled, startling me. "He's a DNR! You can't put a tube in!"
Mr. Li gave her a contemptuous glance and I grabbed her arm and pulled her out into the hall. DNR stood for 'Do not resuscitate', a physician order, commonly given to people like Mr. Li, ordering paramedics and hospital personnel NOT to use advanced life support measures to save their life. After all, what would be the point of bringing Mr. Li back from the dead only so he could continue to die of cancer? But she could have found a more tactful way of informing me of this fact.
"Do you have a copy of the DNR?" I asked her pointedly.
She dug through the file she had for a moment and then produced the form. I looked at it, making sure it was legal. Patient's name, the words DNR or NO CODE, and the Doctor's signature were all present. "Okay." I said, handing it back. "You might consider working on your tact a little in the future." I advised the nurse. "Mr. Li can hear everything you say."
She scoffed at this, giving me a condescending look. "He's a gork." She told me, using medical slang for an unresponsive person, or vegetable. "And a gook on top of that. What's the big deal?"
I turned away from her in disgust. As hardened as I've become doing this job, it never fails to amaze me how crass, incompetent, and tactless con home nurses can be. It was one of those situations where you had to figure that if they were any good at what they did, they wouldn't be working THERE.