From Ant to Eagle(26)

Mom looked over at me. I must have taken on a colour similar to Sammy’s because she asked if I was going to be okay.

The nurse stopped what she was doing and looked at me too. “Yeah, are you going to be okay? If you want to look away that’s fine.”

I shook my head and kept watching.

The nurse continued preparing. She opened a small package and wiped Sammy’s arm with what looked like a Wet-Nap you get in restaurants. She tied a thick rubber band around his small bicep and prodded with her fingers in his elbow crease. After a couple seconds, she seemed content with what she’d felt and drew the needle. I wanted to look away but couldn’t. It was like a car crash that everyone stops to watch. As the needle passed through the skin, I felt the metallic taste in my mouth as if I was going to be sick. A thin tube ran from the needle to a plastic container and that container started to fill with blood. All this time, Sammy continued to lie with his eyes closed. He didn’t even flinch as the needle went in. I reminded myself to give him a Level when we got home.

The nurse finished up and turned to us before leaving the room “One of the doctors will be in soon to ask you some questions.”

“Soon,” I would learn, has a very different meaning in hospitals than it does elsewhere. Forty minutes later and still no one had shown up.

I tried to occupy my mind by daydreaming. I forced myself to think of Aleta and our Secret Spot but the images would only flutter in my mind briefly before those of Sammy’s body on the playground concrete would force their way back in. He was sleeping and I considered waking him. Did it hurt? Do you remember it? Could you hear us yelling your name? All these questions lay unanswered, gnawing at me. The longer it went on, the worse it became.

Finally, a short, skinny Asian boy came in and introduced himself as Simon the Clinical Clerk.

“What’s a clinical clerk?” Dad asked.

“It’s a medical student in third year. I’m training to be a doctor,” he replied.

“Medical school? Are you sure you’re not still in high school?” Dad joked. The boy shook his head. “Well, Doogie Howser, let’s get started. What’s going on with my favourite son?” Dad winked at me as he said this.

“I’m not really sure yet, I—we—just need to get some information first,” he said.

“Ignore my husband. He doesn’t have an off button for his joking around,” Mom said, shaking her head at Dad. “Go ahead with your questions.”

The boy looked down at his clipboard where he obviously had a list because he rarely looked up from that point on.

“Okay, so what exactly happened today?”

Mom looked at me, “I think Cal can probably answer that question best.”

I recounted in great detail the events that occurred on the basketball court leading up to the falling backwards, “And then, and then, he just sort of fainted but instead of lying still, his arms and legs were going crazy and his eyes were open and looking all over the place.”

“How long did that shaking go on?”

“I dunno, a few minutes. There was a big crowd and the teachers were pushing us out of the way.”

After some more jotting down on his clipboard, “And has he ever had a seizure like that before?”

“Seizure? What’s a seizure?” I asked.

“No,” Mom said, taking over from there.

“Had he been sick before the game?”

“He’s been sick all summer. Our family doctor said he thought it was mono,” Mom replied.

“Okay, we’ll come back to that. Has he fallen lately? Hit his head at all?”

“No.”

“Anyone in the family with epilepsy or a seizure disorder?”

“No.”

“Any other health issues that Sammy has? Medications he’s taking? Allergies?”

“No. No. No.”

Simon seemed to be thinking as he stared at his clipboard.

“Any recent history of weight loss?”

“Yes, he has lost some weight over the summer.”

“Any fevers?”

“Daily.”

“Any night sweats?”

I thought back to all the mornings where I’d seen the swimming pool that was Sammy’s bed.

“Yes.”

“Any history of easy bruising?”

At this, Mom paused and looked at me, “He has had a lot of bruises this summer, but his brother can be a bit rough with him, so I don’t know about easy bruising.”

I rolled my eyes.

“How has his energy level been?”

“Very poor. He’s been napping nearly every day.”

We sat in that room answering Simon the Clinical Clerk’s questions for well over an hour. Any problems when you were pregnant with him? Issues with the delivery? Shortly after the delivery? Travelled anywhere recently? Anyone else sick? Any pets at home? Any of the following short list of signs or symptoms: diarrhea, constipation, obstipation, shortness of breath, chest pain, belly pain, joint pain, bone pain, lumps or bumps, rashes, runny nose, cough or menstrual irregularity. The list was apparently all-inclusive because at this last one Simon looked up, red in the face, and said, “Oops, sorry.”

“Okay.” Simon put his clipboard down. “I need to examine the patient.”