The Inventor's Son

Chapter 19: In Which an Owl Makes an Unexpected Appearance

TO ETHAN'S SURPRISE, he was able to open his eyes again, though his focus was not very good. He was in a bed. It was not in his grandmother's flat, however. There were tall walls and high windows that allowed some light to stream through them. This place looked suspiciously like a hospital.

Ethan opened his mouth slightly, and found that it was extremely dry. Very carefully, Ethan attempted to turn his head to the left, and the pounding pain felt like it would crack Ethan's skull completely open. Then, he turned his head to the right, which was, he found, far less painful. It took some time for his eyes to sharpen, but they eventually did. He was able to see that to the right of his bed, there was a stand, on which was perched, quite innocently, a nearly empty, small bottle of morphine, of the sort one would inject through a syringe.

"Damn it!" Ethan croaked. His relationship with morphine was, at best, a tumultuous one. At the tender age of six, after having suffered one too many strep throats, one of his many doctors got the bright idea of removing his tonsils. The dosage of morphine he had received for the pain was such that it nearly drove Ethan to jump out his bedroom window to his death.

One would think that, after such an experience, his doctors would be loath to use the substance again, but no! By age ten, he could be classified as a veritable addict. His dear father aided him with the horrid withdrawal process, and since then, after the profuse vomiting, the shaking, the inner turmoil, no one was permitted to even leave morphine around Ethan, let alone administer it to him.

The doctors had no idea of his history with morphine, he was sure of it. That could be the only explanation as to why it was given to him. Even so, now he would have to deal with withdrawal all over again! His stomach roiled with the thought of it.

Why had he survived? What did this mean, that he was still alive after such a blow?

A nurse appeared, dressed in white with those odd hats they wore, making her look a bit like an abbess, only without the wimple. At any rate, it completely hid her hair. "You are awake! Le médicin tell me, give more dose when you are awake," she told him in a cheerful, sweet voice.

Ethan had to blink. He could not believe what he was hearing. "Wait! Why are you dosing me with more morphine if I wake up? I can't take any more morphine as it is!" he protested rather loudly and with a thick tongue, which made "morphine" sound a bit like "morthine."

The nurse jumped in surprise at Ethan. "I get doctor!" she squeaked in English. "Doctor tell!" In short order, the doctor, who entered the long wing at a brisk pace, was yelling at the nurse in French. When he appeared at Ethan's bedside, he gave Ethan a terrible glare.

"What is going on? Why are you dosing me with such a huge amount of morphine? By the time I get out of here I shall remain constipated until I'm fourteen!" Ethan tried to swallow, but found there was nothing but dry air to be had.

"I am Dr. Devereaux, young man, and I must tell you that you have endured a very bad injury to your head. Your brain needs to rest, or you can die! We give morphine to keep you sleeping as much as possible!" the doctor told him curtly.

Another doctor came into the wing. His heels clicked on the floor and echoed throughout the nearly cavernous room. "Stanwood has awakened? Before we dose him again, I will conduct another examination." This doctor spoke far better English, to Ethan's immense relief.

"He needs to be dosed as soon as possible," Dr. Devereaux complained.

"Good sir, please do not dose me with more morphine..." Ethan begged.

"Listen." That one word stopped Ethan's tirade. "My name is Dr. Gideon."

"Dr. Gideon, please, listen. I have a history of addiction to..."