Fireflies - By David Morrell Page 0,22

suffered the despairing consequences.

“As I told you, no matter how well the procedure went, I knew I wouldn’t get what I wanted: total surgical cure.”

“Then we go to bone marrow,” David said.

7

Matthew was strong. David had promised the surgeons that, and the degree of Matt’s strength was about to be proven. Matt’s surgery had been so severe—“The most painful there is to recover from,” the surgeon explained—that Matt had been scheduled for two days of intensive care instead of the usual one.

Nonetheless, twenty-four hours later, Matt’s tortured body had so responded to postoperative treatment that he could be moved back to his room on the Pediatrics Ward.

“You were right. You son’s constitution is remarkable,” the surgeon said. Then turning to Matt, who was conscious though groggy from pain medication, he added, “But Matt, I’m afraid I’m going to have to keep being tough on you. I can’t let you rest. I can’t let fluids accumulate in your system. You’re going to have to stand as soon as possible. You’re going to have to make your bladder work.”

Matt groaned. “Stand?”

“As soon as you’re able. The important thing is you have to pee. I don’t want to have to put a catheter back into your penis.”

Matt groaned again.

The surgeon’s pager made a beeping sound. From the small black box on his hip, a voice announced a telephone number for him to call.

“I’ll be right back,” the surgeon said.

Donna, Sarie, and a nurse followed the surgeon out, leaving David and Matthew alone.

David hesitated. “How are you doing, son?”

“I hurt.”

“I bet.”

Another pause.

“Well, let’s get it over with,” Matt murmured.

“What?”

“If I have to stand”—Matt groaned—“and pee, let’s do it now so I can sleep.”

God’s honest truth. That’s what he said. And don’t be surprised that he could talk, much less be able to move. Maybe in the movies, patients are unconscious for days after serious surgery, while the actors have meaningful conversations at the bedside. But in real life, the physicians want you alert as soon as possible. In Intensive Care, Matt had been conscious enough and alert enough to write notes (his mouth had been blocked by a tube driving oxygen into his lungs) two hours out of surgery.

“The pain’ll just keep on,” Matt murmured. “He told me to stand. Let’s do it. Help me.”

Somehow, despite the oxygen prongs attached to Matt’s nostrils … and the IV tube leading into his arm … and the tubes draining blood from an incision that curved from Matt’s right shoulder blade down to his waist, then around his waist and up to his right nipple … somehow David and Matthew got Matthew out of bed.

Matt gingerly placed his bare feet on the floor. He gasped and wavered, while David held him up and at the same time held the IV stand.

David groped for a plastic urine bottle and supported it under Matt’s penis.

David waited, it seemed forever.

Matt’s knees began to buckle. David gripped his left shoulder more firmly.

“Hurry, Matt.”

“I’m trying!” The force in Matt’s voice must have been agonizing to him. “It doesn’t want to come!”

“Then we’ll try another time.”

“No!” Matt almost sobbed. “I don’t want another catheter! I don’t want any more pain!”

Dribble.

The sound, so commonplace, made David’s heart break.

Dribble.

David felt the warmth of the urine through the plastic bottle he held. That warmth was the most intimate sensation he’d ever known.

Dribble.

Thank God!

The dribbles stopped.

No!

Matthew’s face contorted with strain. “That’s it. Can’t … make myself go anymore … tired … have to … get back in bed.”

“Twenty-four hours out of major surgery and you’re standing, peeing? You’re the strongest, bravest person I’ve ever known. I’m proud of you.”

“Have to get back in …”

“Bed? I know, son. Just a minute, and you can rest.”

David set the urine bottle on the floor, eased Matt toward the bed, and that’s when they discovered the huge mistake they’d made.

When Matthew’s gurney had been wheeled down from Intensive Care, the nurses in the Pediatrics Ward had raised the bed in his room, gripped the sheet beneath him, and gently pulled him across from the gurney onto the bed. That bed, from which David had helped Matt to stand, had not yet been lowered. The mattress was as high as David’s chest and Matthew’s shoulders. Matt couldn’t set his hips on the bed and lean back to rest.

Matt wavered, close to falling. David clutched Matt’s left shoulder, released the IV stand, and reached for a button to summon a nurse.

But the button was too far away, David couldn’t reach the button unless