6 Minutes Wrestling with Life

Sleeping With My Sneakers On

Nothing reduces the odds against you
Like ignoring them

"Dr. Heavy to the Emergency Room," I hear over the loud speaker.

I comment, "There must be a fight in the ER."

The nurse in the room asks how I know that.

I explain to her I have been here long enough to know all of the codes.

She doesn't believe me and sets out to stump me by asking, "Code 64?"

"Stroke," I answer.

"RRU?" she attempts again.

"Rapid Response Unit, someone is crashing."

"Dr. Pepper?"

"Fire." I reply.

"How the heck did you know that?" She was astounded.

I filled her in on my little secret. I have spent a tremendous amount of time outside in the hallway, next to the room, and all the codes are on the phones there.

She was impressed that I memorized them all, but says to me that I could forget the Dr. Pepper code – it has never been used.

That is, until tonight.

It is about 4:30 a.m. and over the loud speaker I hear, "Dr. Pepper to the ER please."

Translation – there is a fire in the Emergency Room.

"That must be a false alarm," I say to myself.

A nurse enters Jess's room and I ask her where the fire is?

She looked at me as if I were on morphine.

"There is no fire, why would you ask that?"

I explain to her that they just called for Dr. Pepper to the ER, which means that there is a fire in the ER.

She assures me that there is no fire.

Five minutes go by, and I smell something burning, like an electric outlet smoldering.

Again I ask the nurse where the fire is, and again I get that same kind of look, like I'm delusional.

I try to go to sleep, but I am awakened by the red lights of a fire truck coming toward the hospital.

All of a sudden everyone scurries to see where the fire is.

I inform them that it's in the ER.

They look at me like – how do you know that?

I told them it came over the loud speaker ten minutes ago.

It turns out there was a small electrical fire in the Emergency Room that was easily put out.

I am glad.

I drill the nurses about what would happen if the fire was serious enough, and what protocol would be?

A floor nurse says to me "They prioritize what patients to save first, and then they take action."

My first thought was to wonder where Jess and my dad stood on that priority list.

My second, more chilling thought, was wondering how I would save two virtual paralyzed family members in a fire.

I am glad I never had to find out.

I will be sleeping with my sneakers on from now on, just in case.

Those sneakers will now be sleeping upstate in Haverstraw, NY, where Jess is being transferred to the Helen Hayes Brain Rehabilitation facility.

Helen Hayes is one of the best Brain Injury Rehabilitation Facilities in the North East.

Ten other rehabilitation facilities turned Jess down when we applied to them. I am glad they did, or else we would never have been accepted at Helen Hayes.

Here are the terms of Jess's 90-day stay at Helen Hayes:

Jess has been accepted on a thirty-day trial basis. If after thirty days Jess shows significant improvement, the insurance will continue to pay for it.

If she does not, in order to stay in the program for the remaining 60 days, I would be responsible for the $2,600 per day cost, which would amount to $156,000.

That is just not possible.

Also part of the terms of Jess 's stay at Helen Hayes is that normal visiting hours would not pertain to BettyJane and me. Although we wanted twenty-four-hour access to Jess, we had to settle for sixteen-hour access. BettyJane and I can be with Jess from 7:00 a.m. until 11:00 p.m., but we cannot stay the night.

I will still sleep with my sneakers on, just in case.