Pat (GP)

It had been over a week and still Patrick lay unconscious. The longer he remained in a coma, the more they feared he'd be impaired when he finally woke up. I'd moved into his condo, so I could be with him every day. I've spent countless hours talking to him, wondering if he was hearing what I said. It seemed I reviewed his whole life, even rehashing my view of his meeting with Matt just before he flipped his car. I figured that even if he wasn't hearing me, I felt better for having gotten it off my chest.

Carla came every evening and relieved me, so I could go back to the condo to shower and put on clean clothes. Rich often came with her and would leave with me. As time has gone by, I've learned to love Rich more and more. He is my life support, like that old song sez, 'he's the wind beneath my wings.'

Carla

I'd brought a manual from work to study while I sat at Patrick's bed side. I greeted Dad with a hug and a kiss, told him to go get some sleep, then checked Patrick's chart to see if there had been any improvement… it didn't show any. I kissed him on his lips, whispered my love to him, then sat down to read.

Half an hour might have passed before I heard Patrick moan. I checked the time and made a mental note to tell the on duty nurse when she came in. They'd removed the stitches from his forehead that morning. It was just below his hair line; when his hair grew back it would hide the scar. That was good; it wasn't going to mar his handsome face. I went back to my reading, but soon felt that I was being watched. I raised my eyes to see Patrick looking at me.

Patrick

It seemed to go on for an eternity - the cycles of intense dreams… then darkness. In one reoccurring dream, Dad kept trying to lead me to the light, but each time I would fall back into darkness. In one vivid dream - I was a child again riding my tricycle on the gravel driveway next to the old farm house where I grew up. I was peddling fast - showing off for my daddy - and hit a rock that turned my front wheel sidewise, throwing me off. I landed face down in the gravel. It hurt … my face felt like the skin had been scraped off. I cried out for my daddy, who came running to grab me up and comfort me and take my away pain.

I opened my eyes expecting to see my daddy. Instead, a lady sat beside my bed, reading. She looked up at me, smiled and said, "Hey."

Carla

It thrilled me to see Patrick's blue eyes open and looking at me.

"Hey," I said, checking the time as I stood and caressed his cheek.

"Water," he muttered.

I quickly got a glass and touched the bendable straw to his lips. "Just a sip," I told him.

I then rang the nurses' station and reported that the patient was awake and that we needed some chipped ice for him.

"I'll have some ice for you to suck on in just a moment." I ran the backs of my fingers over his unshaven cheek.

"Thank you, Pretty Lady." I thought he was just flirting with me and thought nothing more of it. His eyes followed my every movement. When I sat back down, he asked, "Where's my daddy?"

It struck me odd. "Do you know who I am?" I asked.

"You're a nice lady." His smile was childlike - innocent.

A cold chill filled my heart. I smiled at him, brushed his cheek with my fingers and left the room when a nurse entered with a cup of ice. I heard Patrick say as the door closed, "I want my daddy." He sounded like a petulant little boy with a grown man's voice. I rushed outside and called Pat, using my cell phone.

"Patrick's awake and asking for you," I said, as soon as he answered.

"That's wonderful, Carla."

"Dad…" I hesitated trying to get the catch out of my voice and not succeeding. "He … he didn't recognize me."

"Keep a grip, Carla, you know it sometimes takes a while for memory to awaken after a head trauma."

"I know that, but what if …" I couldn't say it.

"Don't go looking for problems, Sweetheart. We'll be there as soon as we can."

I stayed out of Patrick's room while the doctor examined him. When Dad arrived, accompanied by Rich, I told them about Patrick waking up and not recognizing me, then asking for his daddy. I hated seeing the sympathy in their expressions, but at the same time I appreciated it.

I stopped at the foot of the bed and watched Pat approach his son. He laid a hand on his cheek and said, "I'm here, Son.

Pat opened his eyes and looked up at his father with the same childlike expression as earlier. "Daddy, I hurt. Make the hurt go away."

With one hand, Pat rubbed his son's upper arm, the only part that wasn't in a cast, while he brushed his cheek with the other. A nurse had come into the room with us. She injected some painkiller into the IV tube. "He's going to drop off to sleep again," she explained. She apparently hadn't been informed that I, too, was a nurse.

I watched Pat kiss his son's cheek since his forehead was still bruised looking. He whispered comforting words to him until he dropped off, then he left the room chewing on his lower lip. I glanced at Rich who had stood aside watching Pat, then I follow Dad, with Rich right behind me. He placed a comforting arm around me and said, "Be patient, Carla. You never know when he'll fully recover his memory."

I thought 'if, not when,' but I knew he'd intentionally said when. But at that moment, it failed to bring me any comfort.

Dad suggested that he drive me home. Rich could follow and pick him up. Men - always needing to take care of us helpless women. I should have been offering Dad a ride, but I numbly nodded and let them lead me out to my car.

Patrick

I floated out of a deep dreamless darkness… slowly becoming aware. My head throbbed. I drew in a deep breath and experienced an exquisite pain in my right side. I hunched to relieve the pain and my stomach muscles spasmed causing more pain. I attempted to move my left hand to rub my belly and realized that it was in a full arm cast suspended above my chest. I opened my eyes at that point, thankful the room was nearly dark, because what bit of light there was hurt my head. First thing I saw was a structure over my bed with ropes and pulleys. I glanced down and saw that they were attached to a cast on my left leg, suspending it in the air. Wondering why my right arm felt so heavy, I raised it to see that I had a forearm cast with just my fingers and thumb sticking out the end.

I gazed around the darkened room and noticed the monitor with its octopus wires stretched out towards me, the ubiquitous stand with a couple of bottles hanging from it - their tubes aimed towards my shoulder. I tucked in my chin and stared at the device taped just above my collarbone that was attached to the tubes.

I wondered for a moment what in hell had happened to me, then I remembered trying to look up a number on my cell phone as I was going around a slow shithead in the center lane and losing control of my car. I clearly remembered my car going into a sideways skid and hitting the center divider before it started tumbling.

'Stupid move,' I thought, then I wondered if the idiot I'd swerved around had been caught up in my stupidity.

I lay there in the dark recalling the events leading up to the moment that I lost control of the car. I'd been down to Pete and Dan's place in Gilroy. Frank had set up a get-together where I could talk to Carla's boy. I hadn't realized before that the boy has an intelligent brain. The kid had succeeded in humiliating me in front of Dad and my brothers, and there hadn't been a thing I could do about it. God, if they hadn't been there, I'd have probably killed him with my bare hands after he had me on my knees begging his forgiveness and then laughing at me as he dove into the pool to join his midget boyfriend. The only thing I could do was get to my feet and walk out. But of course Frank, that misbegotten diminutive ass, had to add more insult by reminding me to stay away from the boy. I mentally kicked myself for having told him how I'd felt.

I became aware that I was in agony, my whole body hurt, especially my right leg and arm. I glared at the call button that lay next to my pillow. There was no way I could touch it. Shit! I was so frustrated I just roared as loud as I could. "Aaaaarrrgh!" It took less that fifteen seconds for a nurse to come running.

"What the hell kind of place is this that abandons me in this helpless position?" I thundered at her. "The damned call button is up by my head. How in hell am I supposed to be able to use it? Why isn't it near my right hand? I'm in pain. Why aren't you doing anything about it? "

The damned uppity little nurse started trying to calm me as she apologized. I didn't realize that at the same time, she was injecting something into the tube connected to my shoulder. When I realized that I was being knocked out with a drug, it enraged me more, but I was losing consciousness as I tried to tell her to stop. As I drifted off … I felt no pain.

I was aware that I was again dreaming. I was back in my brothers' back yard. I was on my knees groveling in front of Matt. He could see how much I was lusting after his beautiful young body clothed only in a small swimsuit. Even my father and gay brothers and their lover's could see the protuberance in my slacks and were amused. I begged Matt to let me fuck him. He shook his head. "You're not queer, Patrick. Go back to Mom. For some reason she loves you." He took my face between his hands and kissed my forehead. "No one else will know. Go." I stood and turned, knowing I'd have to endure the looks of contempt from my dad and brothers, but they'd all disappeared. I glanced back at Matt, and he again said, "Go. Mom loves you." I left Matt, thankful that he'd spurned me so gently. Yes, I needed to go find Carla. Maybe she'd forgive me. Matt had said that she loves me.

A cool hand caressed my forehead, bringing me out of the dream. I opened my eyes to see Carla's lovely face. A look of tenderness filled her eyes. As I gazed up at her, a look of doubt clouded her countenance. I smiled and whispered, "I love you, Carla."

The cloud disappeared as she smiled happily at me. "You know who I am this time."

A vague image grazed my memory - a pretty lady. It slipped away. "Why wouldn't I know who you are? You're the most important person in my life." She smiled again.

Carla

When Patrick smiled at me and said my name, my heart beat faster. I said a silent prayer of thanks. I could see the pain in his eyes and pressed the call button. When the nurse came in, Patrick smiled at her and asked if she could please not knock him out again.

The nurse smiled at him and said, "You're in a much better mood this afternoon." Patrick just smiled at her.

After she injected the painkiller into the tube connected to his sub-clavian vein and left the room, I asked Patrick what her comment had been about. He actually blushed and stuttered. "I … I was in a lot of pain when I woke up during the night. I couldn't get to the call button and it frustrated me, so I yelled. It got their attention. I was so pissed, I read the nurse a riot act. I think she gave me an extra big dose of knockout to shut me up." He grinned sheepishly. I wondered at his mild manner. Before he'd have ranted about how ill-run this hospital was. 'Must be the meds,' I thought as I smiled at him and kissed his lips. He smiled back at me.

"Do you remember what happened … the accident?" I asked.

He looked at me for a long moment, then said, "Yes, I was driving too fast and was trying to look up a number on my cell phone as I was going around a slow idiot in the center lane. I lost control of my car, went into a sideways skid and hit the center divider before rolling."

"Pat and Rich took me to see your car. Except for the four wheels, it didn't look much like it had ever been a car. They had to cut it up to get you out."

Patrick didn't reply. Tears filled his eyes as he searched my face. I reached for a tissue and blotted the tears away. He raised his left arm and touched his exposed fingers to my arm and said, "My last conscious thought was that I wouldn't get to see you again."

That brought tears to my eyes and left me wordless. The moment ended with Dad coming into the room.

Pat

Seeing Paddy's eyes open and him smiling at Carla gave me a thrill of gratitude. I stepped up to his bedside and asked, "How is my son, today?"

"I'm alive, Dad."

Carla excused herself, saying she needed the ladies room and left. I stood beside Paddy's bed rubbing his upper arm.

"How long have I been here, Dad?"

"Eleven days."

He thought about that for a minute or so, then asked, "You've been here every day, haven't you?"

I nodded and said, "You're my son," hoping that explained it all.

"I love you, Dad," he responded, and before I could reply, he added, "You talked a lot about your memories of me growing up. I kept trying to get back to you, but …" he trailed off.

"Hey, you finally made it back."

"Yeah, I did. I think it was you talking to me that helped me find my way. I had to get back so I could make you proud of me again."

"I am proud of you, Paddy. You're a big time lawyer."

Patrick looked at me a moment, then turned his head away. "Yeah, a big time lawyer… a big time jackass. I want you to be able to be proud of me as a person again."

I didn't know how to respond to that, so I just squeezed his arm and smiled at him. Carla returned, and that put an end to our conversation. The glimmer of hope that he might turn back into a decent human being lifted my spirits.

That evening, Rich and I took Franky and John out to dinner without the boys. When I told them about my conversation with Paddy, Franky was very skeptical. John just smiled enigmatically with a slight shake of his head and said nothing. Rich was supportive as always, stating that there were many documented changes of personalities with head injuries. I didn't want Paddy to be totally a different person - just change back to a kind, considerate person like he was in his youth.

Patrick

I quickly realized that being stuck in a hospital in San Jose was a big inconvenience for everyone. Once I was awake, Dad reduced his visits to every other day. Carla continued to come every evening, and started staying at my condo for the night and driving in to SF early the next morning. When I suggested that I be transferred to the hospital where Carla worked, the doctor became indignant, telling me that it would cause a lot of red tape, and I'd have to be transferred by ambulance, which would be very expensive, and he was sure that my insurance wouldn't cover the cost. I figured that he didn't want to lose me as his patient, so I let him think that he'd talked me out of it, then suggested it to Carla that evening. Her response was to say that she'd rather I stayed where I was, so I just let it go.

I wondered how her boy - err - Matt, was getting along without his mother. As I thought about it, at seventeen the b… Matt didn't really need his mother to be around all the time. Besides, I recalled a conversation about him staying with Franky's boy. What was his name? Oh, yes, Luke. Feisty little bugger, so much like Franky.

Funny how those two little guys went for big men like John and Matt. I've never given much thought to a man being attracted to another man. I'd certainly never felt that kind of attraction until that night that I saw Matt sleeping nude. As I lay there and thought about it, I began to feel ashamed of how I'd handled my reaction to seeing his young naked body that night. I wondered if Carla had wondered what had brought on my frenzied need to fuck that next morning.

The stitches in my abdomen were removed a day after I woke up. The doctor explained what was going to occur during the next few weeks… physical therapy would begin that afternoon. My good leg and arm would get a mild workout every day, and as the casts came off, those appendages would be strengthened, too.

I was looking at four weeks before my left arm, which was only fractured, would be cast free. My right arm had all three bones broken, so it would take a couple of weeks longer. My leg would be put into a walking cast about the same time, but since I couldn't use crutches, I was going to have to be in a motorized wheel chair.

I had no choice. I was completely dependent. I couldn't feed myself, much less wipe my own ass. It was a humbling experience. The nursing staff was upbeat and polite as long as I was. But if I got surly, they became stiff and proper, giving only as much service as necessary.

I quickly learned that 'polite' was much more rewarding. I had lots of time to contemplate that, along with reviewing my life while remembering what Dad had said while I lay unconscious. Funny, I'd always assumed that a coma was like dead, except your heart still beat. Maybe, at first, it had been like that, but I could clearly remember Carla saying numerous times, "Wake up, Love, come back to me."

And I could remember everything Dad had talked about. His words haunted my thoughts. He told me what I had been like as a boy and how I'd gradually changed after I left home. He'd even told me that I had become a pompous ass when I started working as a lawyer in Santa Barbara, and that my mother had even commented before she died that she was ashamed of what I'd become. Remembering that, I swore to myself that I wasn't going to be like that anymore.

I mulled over how I'd convinced myself that Matt had been trying to seduce me, and realized what a sick ass I'd been. I wondered how I would ever be able to convince him that I truly regretted the way I'd treated him. I supposed that I'd totally alienated him, especially after my asinine escapade in Dan and Pete's back yard.

I knew that before I married Carla, I was going to have to somehow straighten out things between Matt and me. I had no idea of how to even approach him after the last time. Over the slowly passing weeks, I worried the problem daily - not coming up with a solution.

When I suggested going into a hospice when I got out of the hospital, Carla and Dad both threw a fit.

"You know damned well that there is still a ramp on the side of the house so my dad could get in and out of the house without assistance," Carla said. "You'll move into his old bedroom at the back of the house until you can climb the stairs. All the doors are wide enough for a wheel chair, and there are still rails in his bathroom.

"And since I am retired," Dad said, "I can spend my days keeping you company while Carla is at work. You're going to need a chauffeur for a while, so I'm volunteering."

Pat

There was a lot of discussion of how to transfer Patrick from the hospital to Carla's. It was finally decided that John's double cab pickup would work best. It was roomier than any of the vehicles owned by the SF contingent of the family. We'd already acquired a motorized chair with left hand controls for him. John brought along two of the ramps they use to put their motorcycles in the back of the pickup, but it turned out to be easier to just pick the contraption up and lift it in.

The move went without a hitch, but to Carla's consternation, Matt had moved out completely while we were gone.