One Day At A Time




The room was dark and stuffy, and as he looked around, he realized where he was. He was fully awake in a matter of seconds. He didn't like dark rooms, he had left a light on in his own bedroom while he slept, when he slept. He moved to get out of bed, and the pounding in his head stopped him short of his goal. He put his hands up to his head, and realized he had an IV in his arm, that he had managed to tangle around the side rail of the bed.

"Damnit!" He muttered trying to focus his attention on unraveling the thing. He needed to use the bathroom.

He made his way slowly across the floor, feeling like he had a hangover from hell. The first thing he noticed was the orange container with his name and room number on it, apparently, they saw the need to do a 24-hour urine collection. He indulged them. He knew it was just the Naltrexone wearing off, he'd feel better in a day or so, but Mark Greene just wouldn't let it go. Fine, he had jumped through every other hoop of fire he'd been given, why would Mark think he'd not jump through this one?

He heard the door to his room opening, just as he was exiting the bathroom. An x-ray tech pushing a wheelchair, off for more tests, lovely.

"John Carter?" The rather large, burly tech asked.

"That's me." John answered, "but I'm perfectly capable of walking."

"Sorry, not allowed, gotta take the ride."

"Can I get some pants on at least?" John asked.

"Sure, fine. I'll wait right here for you." The tech answered amiably.

Dr. Greene had called x-ray and asked specifically for Mike to personally make sure that this guy gets to MRI safe and sound. Apparently, he had not been too cooperative so far, and with Mike's physique, his requests for cooperation were rarely challenged. He didn't see that it would happen this time either. He waited a few minutes, "ready to rock and roll?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." With that, they made there way through the hospital maze for yet another scan. John suddenly felt bad for all the tests he had put so many patients through over the years, this sucked. His head was still pounding. He just wished this damned headache would go away.

************

Millicent Carter entered through the ER doors and immediately spotted Mark Greene, without hesitation, she strode definitively in his direction. She cared not that he was in deep conversation with another staff member, "Dr. Greene, I should like to speak with you." Not, "May I have a minute?" or "When you're finished, may I have a word with you?" None of that, "You will speak to me now" is exactly what Millicent Carter got across, and Mark took it exactly the way she had intended.

"What, may I ask, is going on?" Millicent cut to the chase.

"Mrs. Carter your grandson's blood pressure was dangerously high, and he has had a headache for, from what I understand, several weeks now, I wanted to bring him in for a few tests."

"And he is where now?"

"He's been admitted, he's upstairs on the 6th floor, Medicine. He should be going to MRI any time now."

"And could you direct me there?"

"Sure, I'll walk you over." Mark told Randi he would be back in a few minutes.

**************

John tried to relax as the tech wheeled him through the corridors, at least the guy wasn't super talkative, he didn't feel much like talking. He just prayed he didn't run into anyone he knew. They made it to MRI in record time, and he didn't have to wait, which was a miracle in and of itself. I guess it paid to have some clout at the hospital, for all that was worth.

**************

"He's in there now." Mark said as he came back from the desk, "I'll just wait with you, it won't be too long."

"I'm sure I'll be just fine Dr. Greene." Millicent replied.

"I'd feel better waiting, I had asked to be called when they took him down anyway, he hasn't been the most cooperative patient Mrs. Carter."

"Can you blame him?"

"Not especially."

They let the matter drop.

A few minutes later, the door opened.

"All done." Mike announced as he pushed the wheelchair toward the front doors of x-ray.

Millicent and Mark rose in unison to follow the wheelchair back up to the floor.

"Hi Gamma."

Millicent gave him a hug and kiss on his forehead, "How's the headache dear?"

"Still there."

"Well, let's get you upstairs to bed, Dr. Greene can he take something for this migraine?" Millicent asked.

"Yeah, I'll make sure he takes something Mrs. Carter."

Mark gave John a steely look, so far, he had adamantly refused to take any pain meds, maybe now he'd listen.

They got him up to his room, and into bed. It was late, and Millicent Carter kissed her grandson goodnight and headed for home, after all, they wouldn't get test results back until the morning, and John needed his sleep. They had had a few words regarding the Fiorinal, but after all was said and done, Gamma had won out. She certainly understood John's reluctance, but at this point, there was no other choice. He had been feeling nauseous again, and if he didn't take something at that point, Imitrex injections were the next step. He knew that, after all, he was a doctor, unfortunately, he didn't doctor himself very well.

************

John awoke at 3:30 in the morning, in a cold sweat. He had been dreaming something, and he'd be damned if someone didn't turn off the light again. He didn't want to sound like a big baby, but he wanted the light left on, was that so difficult to remember? Apparently so. Movement off to his right caught his attention. He froze. His heart was pounding out of his chest. He made absolutely no noise. He could feel his chest burning, he was afraid to breathe, and he couldn't hold his breath much longer. The figure to his left moved stealthily behind the bed, making little sound. The figure moved toward him, whoever it was held something in their hand, he saw a slight catch of silver in the waning moonlight that slightly illuminated the dark room. His mind reeled. The figure moved purposely for him, the object held out in front of their body, coming toward John.

His frozen stance was broken, he quickly moved to the other side of the bed, and was up and out before the figure had a chance to do anything further.

"Get back!" He called in a shaky voice, "Get back!"

"Dr. Carter!" The nurse called, while turning on the light over his bed, "I just need to get vitals. Oh no, now look what you've done!"

He had successfully pulled the IV out of his arm when he jumped out of the bed. Blood dotted the linens, and moved down his hand. He glanced at his bloody hand, his mind not quite comprehending. He stood staring at his hand, confusion washed over him.

"Dr. Carter?" The nurse was trying to get his attention back to the task at hand, which was, getting the bleeding stopped.

"Stay away..." He moved back a few paces, "leave me alone!" A pain ripped through his back, his steps slowed, halted, stopped in his tracks, "Oh God!" He called out as the nurse moved toward him.

"Dr. Carter, it's Mary, I'm a nurse, I'm not going to hurt you." She still held the thermometer, and John's eyes were glued to the device, which looked foreign to him right now.

"I just need to get vitals. It's Mary." She said again, noting the petrified look in his eyes. She finally got what he was staring at, she knew some of his past history. She knew of the stabbing, everyone at County knew. In retrospect, she should have awakened him when she came in the door, that was dumb on her part. He was just so sound asleep, and he had not been sleeping well. She hadn't had the heart to wake him, now she wished she would have.

John's eyes were glued on her, as she slowly raised the thermometer so he could see what it was, the silver tipped flashed again in the moonlight, coming through the blinds in the window behind her. She slowly set the thermometer down on the bed, "It's just a thermometer, I'm setting it down right here, okay?" Mary wasn't afraid yet, but he was a hell of a lot bigger than she was, and he was inching his way toward the door, holding his back with one hand, and intermittently staring at the hand bloodied by the dislodged IV line.

"Dr. Carter, John, come back this way...I'm not going to hurt you, I just need to get your vitals, we can do that later though, just come back toward the bed okay? You're bleeding and we need to get that stopped. You're bleeding from where the IV was, see? Look at your arm. It's your arm that's bleeding." Mary used all the techniques she remembered from her psych rotation, PTSD was a bitch, that was for sure. Perfectly normal, well-adjusted people, who had been through traumatic events, and certain things, objects, sounds, sights, smells even, and they were right back at the event. It appeared to Mary, that her patient wasn't really listening to her. She was afraid to move toward him in any way, or move anything. She just kept talking in a calming voice, explaining over and over very patiently and calmly, that he was at County Hospital, she was his nurse, she was not going to hurt him, and if he would let her pass, she would leave him alone. They could do vitals later. Mary moved her right hand, slowly and carefully toward the call light, hoping for some help to arrive before he bolted out the door. He was noticeably limping as he stepped back toward the dark corridor, the bathroom, then the door.

That was all it took, he saw her hand move, it moved toward the object she had placed on the bed. He didn't see Mary, no, he didn't see her at all. What he saw was Paul Sobricki.

**************

Helen usually loved 12-hour shifts. But tonight, she was bored. The ICU, usually busy and bustling, wasn't. She had two patients, both of which, were ready to move to the regular floor tomorrow, so there really wasn't much to do. She hadn't taken a break for a while, and decided to take a walk up to Medicine just to take a peek at John.

She signed out at the desk, and gave a short report on her charges. The elevators were slow, even at 3:30 in the morning, and she waited, as patiently as she waited for anything, which wasn't very patiently, for a few minutes, then decided to take the stairs.

It was only two flights, besides a little exercise did her some good.

*************

He was out the door in a flash, and Mary pulled the emergency cord, and ran out the door behind him. He had a good lead, and beat her to the stairwell. It didn't help that he knew every corridor of this place!

"Hey! I need some help here!" Mary called.

Three other night staff nurses came running, when they heard Mary's usually calm voice, sounding quite panicked.

The blood from his arm dripped on the floor, John watched for a split second, and ran as fast as he could toward the stairwell.

The four nurses in quick pursuit behind him.

He didn't turn around until the door was opened, and he kept his eyes on his pursuers the whole time. As he bolted through the door, he was met by an almost immovable object.

**********

"Ugh! Hey!" Helen yelled, taking hold of whomever it was that damn near sent her back down a flight of steps, and not in the manner she'd want to take them.

"Let me go!" John's panicked voice called.

"John! What are you doing?" Helen took him by the shoulders, successfully holding him back, and keeping him away from the stairwell.

He recognized her voice, his shoulders visibly relaxed. The look of panic was replaced by one of understanding. He glanced over his shoulder, and saw most of the night nursing staff, standing and waiting to see what he would do.

He extended his trembling hands out in front of him, Helen looked at his bloodied hand and arm.

"See, you just pulled her IV out, good thing you're an easy stick." Helen said smiling. She pulled him into her arms, "It's okay, let's go get this taken care of."

He walked back with Helen, apologizing over and over to the nurses.

Helen got his arm cleaned off, and Mary returned with the necessary supplies to restart his line. As soon as it was restarted, Mary injected the Ativan. She was thankful that Dr. Greene had left a standing p.r.n. order.

John wouldn't even make eye contact with Mary. He didn't really remember all of what happened, but he knew he had done something that had every one on edge.

"I'm really sorry." John said again.

"It's okay, really, don't worry about it." Mary said, smiling at him, "I should have turned on the light, it was my own fault, I do apologize for that, you were just sleeping so soundly, I didn't want to wake you."

"If it's not any trouble, could you leave a light on when you leave?" John asked.

"No problem whatsoever. There all done. Now, is it safe to use this thermometer?" Mary smiled at him again, trying to ease him.

"Sure, just be careful where you stick that thing." John said, grinning back at her.

A few short minutes later, it beeped. "Normal." Mary declared.

She went about taking the rest of his vitals, inflating the Dynamap several times to make sure she read it correctly. "BP's a little high."

"How high?" John asked.

"You really want to know?"

"No, but tell me anyway."

"196/130." Mary declared, "I'll give you a few minutes to calm down, and we'll take it again."

John's eyes were already getting heavy from the Ativan.

"This time, I'll make sure to turn the light on, and I won't be bringing the thermometer. Now, you leave that IV alone okay? I don't want to spend the rest of the shift sticking you."

"No problem, I don't want you to do that either. I'm sorry, really." He said again.

***************

The rest of the night passed uneventfully, and they let him sleep straight through until almost noon the next day. He awoke to the abrasive voice of Robert Romano.

"Well, Dr. Carter, how are we feeling today? Heard we had some excitement last night." He turned on the light box in the room, and shoved the MRI films in the slots. Then, he rifled through the chart, humming some annoying tune the whole time.

John woke up to this. "Great." He thought to himself, "of all people I didn't want to see..."

"Okay, so we have a sky high blood pressure, no family history of hypertension, no past history of hypertension, headache, although, you do have a past history of migraines, pretty hefty ones from what I see here. Diaphoresis, palpitations, hot flashes, flushed skin, are you with me here Carter?"

John just glanced up sleepily, covering his mouth as he yawned, "Yeah, I'm with you."

"Nausea...you still puking?" Romano asked, with his usual finesse.

"No."

"Oh good. Well, we have your 24-hour urine results back, and you are probably wondering what the hell I'm doing here right about now, aren't you?"

"Well, as a matter of fact, yes."

"Duly noted. Your catecholamine levels were sky high. Diagnosis Dr. Carter? Care to take a stab at this? Come on you can get this one, it's classic."

"You must be joking." John said, "pheochromocytoma."

"Right you are! The ever-dreaded chromaffin cell tumor of the sympathoadrenal system, produces catecholamines, epinephrine and norepinephrine, symptoms are? Care to play along?"

"Uh, yeah, hypertension, flushing, nausea, and vomiting, pounding headache..."

"Oh good, you were paying attention in medical school. Okay, now the hard part, we have to find the little bugger. But, the bright side here is, it's not anywhere in your head or neck, see?"

He went over toward the MRI and pointed, "Normal."

"Okay, now what?" John asked.

"IVP, with contrast, let's look at the most likely source, your kidneys. Today, Dr. Carter, fear not, we'll find that little bugger and you'll be feeling good as new in no time."

John gave him a wary look.

Romano answered with a prizewinning grin, "Trust me."

"God," John thought, "where was Benton when he needed him?"



Part 10
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