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Timmy hears things that no one else hears. Is he going crazy or is there something out there? If something is out there why doesn't anyone else hear it?

All work herein is Copyrighted and may not be distributed or published without the prior consent of the author. Copyright 2006, 2007. Kim Bentz. All rights reserved.

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Kim Bentz, Writer and Photographer, living in Viriginia (Washington, D.C. metro area). Graduate of Colorado Springs Christian School, Student at American Military University. Government contractor by day. 

Kim lives with her husband of 30+ years, nearly 2000 books, a great collection of jazz records, and thousands of photographs taken all over.

Tuesday, November 28, 2006

Chapter Thirteen

It was the neighbors who reached the doctor and convinced him how very grave the situation was. Unable to clear the roads fast enough, he called for a rescue helicopter when they assured him there would be a place to land. After their ordeal, it seemed that in no time Timmy was whisked away, unaware of the paramedics or of the ride to the hospital more than 30 miles away.

He remained unaware of the medicines pumping through his veins or the round-the clock nurses, or the oxygen helping him to breathe.

The county sent rescue crews to bring his family to the hospital, so before long the family was gathered in the waiting room outside ICU. The doctor entered wearing his long white coat over green scrubs, his stethoscope hanging around his neck. The strange orange shoes he wore made almost no noise when he walked toward them. Wearily he pulled the cap off his head and ran his fingers through his dark hair.

“Mr. and Mrs. Tucker?”

They began to stand, but he gestured them to sit. They introduced him to Eric who sat there exhausted and somewhat overwhelmed by the brightly lit corridors, briskly moving uniformed doctors and nurses, gleaming surfaces everywhere and the strange odors that together spelled hospital.

Pulling a short table in front of them he sat on the edge before speaking. “We’ve given him a shot for the allergic reaction, some IV antibiotics that he seems to be tolerating, we’ve increased his oxygen, and are giving him moist air treatments to open up his airways.”

“I-is he going to be okay?” his mother asked nervously.

“I’ve never seen a kid his age so sick from pneumonia before. We don’t really know how he will respond to the treatment, but we’ll watch him carefully.” Abruptly he began to rapid-fire questions at them. Had Timmy ever had an auto-immune disorder? Had been born prematurely? Had he grown normally? On and on the questions went, and just as quickly his parents answered. No, there had been nothing out of the ordinary with Timmy before.

“He’s always been pretty healthy.” His father said in bewilderment, before asking the question that weighed heavily on his mind.

“Did I hurt him by giving him penicillin?”

The doctor grinned. “Aside from the allergy, which you didn’t know about, you did what we would have done here. The difference is the size of the needle. Also, we have treatments for the allergies.”

“I thought maybe I hurt him.” With that, he buried his face in both hands and cried.

The doctor put a hand on his shoulder. “You may have saved his life. I’m pretty sure he would not have survived another day if you hadn’t gotten him here. Now we’re going to have to wait and see and do a lot of praying.”

“Now, no one ever listens to me when I say this, but you really should get some rest. You all look exhausted. You probably don’t want to go all the way home, but the nurses station has a list of places you can stay here in town.” They all stood as he rose to go.

“Thank you, Doctor…” Eric glanced at his name tag. “Dr. Shakes?” He grinned.

The doctor grinned back. “Yep.” He paused. “That’s why I don’t do surgery.” He held out his hand and waggled it in his face.


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