Patrick returned to the room. "No word from the Nebraska lab yet."
"Pete said she ingested honey that was a gift. What kind?" Patrick shrugged. "Mad honey. It can come from bees that pollinate azaleas. But it can come from some mushrooms too. We can't use temp as an indicator because we have her cold to protect the brain," Tucker said as if reading from an encyclopedia.
"Damn it, Tuck, she came in hot and dry. If you’re right, and it’s the honey, we’re looking at a cholinergic toxin or a grayanotoxin. They found her unresponsive, leaving her pre-loss of consciousness symptoms, including the possibility of hallucinations, a mystery. The aneurysm complicated things. Is she unresponsive from the poison or the bleed in her head or both? If it’s a plant toxin, we can’t do any more except what we’re doing. But explain why she is getting worse—we’re purging her system. Repeat the bloodwork. I'm going to call Nebraska and push them for results," Patrick sighed. “Her proxies are en route. No DNR. Pete, Tuck, thank you."
Ian and Mike approached Patrick with a man in a suit. "Dr. Hedges, I'm Tobias Kane from hospital legal. Where is Governor Reed?"
"He's in the waiting room; I was going to speak with him. Beth survived another complication." Patrick's face was lined with exhaustion.
Reed glared at Ian's face and knew he lost the first battle. "Governor Reed, I'm Tobias Kane, hospital legal counsel. Elizabeth named Dr. Ruth Weiss and Dr. Joyce Bey as her medical proxy and alternate. Both women are in agreement. She is not a DNR, and they do not want you near her. As a courtesy, you may visit her before you leave. Both women also agreed you may call to check on her condition once per day at 9:00 am."
Patrick followed Talbot Reed down the hallway. Standing tall, Talbot entered her room. "Baby girl, I always did what I thought was best for us. You will understand one day."
The show played out in front of the three providers. Tuck and Pete stood at the bedside.
Reed turned and stood toe to toe with Patrick. "This is not over. By the time I'm done, this hospital won't be good enough for rats. I hope you liked being a doctor. You'll be looking for a new job soon enough."
Patrick did not react to the threat.
While waiting for official word he could be with Elizabeth, Martin stopped at the nursery to visit Austin Jr. His godson slept in his tiny crib. "You’re going to be so spoiled."
His thoughts went to another baby—Lola. He took the elevator to the PICU and rang the doorbell. "Hi, my name is Martin Bailey. I'm here to see Lola Wyatt." The door buzzed, allowing him entry.
A nurse in teddy bear scrubs greeted him. "Mr. Bailey, Colleen told us about you. Poor little thing, nothing settles her down. We’re wondering if her mom used drugs during her pregnancy. We requested her medical records, but they haven’t arrived yet. The doctors won't treat withdrawal until they’re sure." Passing a room with the name Unidentified Child—Victoria, Martin slowed his pace enough to read two signs for isolation precautions and visitor procedures.
"Speak to her great-grandfather. He's a patient. I believe the mother used methamphetamine," he advised.
"Mel Wyatt underwent surgery today. Social Services is beginning proceedings to take custody of her. He’s heartbroken,” the nurse lowered her eyes, “and so are we.”
Lola's fussing could be heard from down the hall. "Can I hold her?"
"Of course. Here's a gown. Please keep the oxygen mask on her."
Martin held her close to his chest with Lola's cheek resting against his neck. She settled fast against him.
"Um, tell me your secret?" the nurse asked.
"What? What secret?" Martin rocked side to side.
"Lola. No one will believe it. We all held her—nothing. With you, she's awake but relaxed."
Martin sat in the rocking chair with her. "Well, angel, I think you do the same for me. When you’re better, I want you to meet someone. I used to sing this to her."
Nothing to worry your head about today,
You are always safe in my embrace.
As I gaze into your beautiful face,
My heart fills with my love for you.
We have a lifetime of things to do,
But all you need is to rest without dismay.
The sound of the chair's motion, the flow of oxygen, and Lola's little breaths echoed in the room. Lola and Martin drifted off to sleep.
Abuzzer sounded signaling the start of dinner in the C Block of Silverton Jail. Dinner was only a word; it was late afternoon when Troy Bremen joined his podmates for the last meal of the day. When he walked the food line, the man behind the counter plopped spaghetti and mystery meat sauce, along with its accompaniments on his tray. Troy walked over to a table to take a seat in the least dangerous spot he could find. He felt eyes watching him.
