A HUGE MOUND OF TECHNOLOGY

Ahnna sat numbly beside Alistair's bed in the IC unit, turning the wedding ring on his left hand around and around. He had promised her...promised her...that he would always be there, would never leave her, and yet a rather blunt doctor had told her not to get her hopes up too much about her husband surviving the night. The one simply did not fit, could not fit, with the other.

The ride to Coffs in the front of the ambulance had been a nightmare beyond all nightmares. She couldn’t see him! He lay there in the back of the ambulance and she couldn’t see him, couldn’t touch him, couldn’t know how he was doing. She’d watched, absolutely horrified, while the medics intubated him. It wasn’t right that such a thing was having to be done to him. It wasn’t RIGHT! Then they’d bundled him into the back of the ambulance and before she knew anything, they were racing down the road toward the coast, lights flashing, sirens screaming through the countryside. They were in a hurry. They were in a hurry because he might die right there in the ambulance. She buried her face in her hands, the sirens spiraling down through her being, each cycle of their sound repeating, "Hurry, hurry, hurry, he’s dying, hurry, hurry, hurry."

Then when they arrived at the hospital, they’d rushed him away from her, not letting her follow. Didn’t anybody know she needed to be with him, had to be with him? It had seemed days before Joimus and Maximus arrived and Joimus had simply folded her in her arms and let her cry. Then, finally, they had let her go back to the ICU.

They had taken him from her again twice already for 90-minute sessions in the hospital’s brand new hyperbaric oxygen chamber. She had been able to look in through a small window, watching as they slid him inside a seven foot long acrylic tube. Seeing him in that she could not shake the image of Snow White in her glass coffin. It was just way too similar. If only she could go in there, open it as the prince had done, lean down and kiss him awake. He lay so still, so pale, that she had to turn away. The chamber was too coffin-like to bear.

The doctor had explained they liked to do three sessions in the first 24 hours, especially with the significant exposure to carbon monoxide Alistair had. The chamber was the most efficient way medicine had of reducing the amount of carbon monoxide in his blood and he had added, "It may reduce the risk of cognitive problems, like lasting damage to memory, attention, and concentration."

That was when it had first dawned on her that he could have brain damage. It was his lungs she’d been worried about, but his continued loss of consciousness was of great concern to the doctors.

Slowly she raised her eyes, not even able to count how many wires and tubes went from various formidable-looking machinery to his body. The worst of all, though, was the large tube that was taped to his mouth. She wanted to see his lips, but the tape obscured them. She wanted him to open his eyes, but he was unconscious. She wanted...him, but he seemed buried under this huge mound of technology, separated from her by it more thoroughly than merely by his unconsciousness.

Her tongue ran across her lower lip. She could still taste the soot from where she'd pressed her mouth to his so briefly there just outside the mill. She wanted the sweet warmth of his breath, but all there was was soot and the repetitive sound of the ventilator that was breathing for him, breathing for him because he couldn't breathe for himself. She closed her eyes, his recent singing of Amazing Grace at Marce's funeral so utterly clear. And now he couldn't even breathe.

Horrid words came, replacing the lovely lyrics; words, phrases, whose meanings she wasn't at all sure of but only that they had something to do with why Alistair lay there so profoundly still. Tissue hypoxia, shift in the oxyhemoglobin saturation dissociation curve, decreased myocardial contractility, chemical asphyxiant, high lactate acidosis. Horrid, ugly words, words that wanted to take him from her, leave her bereft beyond all endurance.

She lifted his hand to her mouth, kissing his ring. "You promised," she whispered, leaning closer to his ear. "Alistair, you promised me. Please, darling, please don't go, don't leave me. Oh, Alistair, please don't go...don't go." She began to cry silently, rocking back and forth in the chair, kissing his ring and rocking. The pain inside her grew and grew until she had to let go of his hand and wrap her arms around her own middle to stop herself from splitting apart.

Willis Todd had been called and, quickly arranging an all-night prayer vigil at his church there in Coffs, hurried to the hospital. He paused in the doorway of Alistair's room, his heart breaking at the sight of the couple he'd married so very recently. Ahnna appeared on the verge of collapse. "Darling girl," he said, coming up behind her and putting his hands on her shoulders.

She jumped, startled by his touch, then when she realized who it was, turned her face into him as he put his arms around her shoulders. "Oh, Ahnna, I came as soon as I heard."  He looked over the top of her head at Alistair. The doctor had told him how he was just barely clinging to life. Ahnna was trembling in his arms, her nerves strained beyond breaking. "You need to rest," he murmured. "You can't help him, Ahnna, if you're falling apart yourself."

"I...I can't leave him alone," she gasped. "He can't be here...alone."

"Let me get you someplace where you can rest a moment, maybe have something to eat, and I'll come and sit with him."

"But I...."

"Please, Ahnna. If you keep on like this, you'll end up in the hospital yourself."

Very reluctantly she stood, and with his arm around her, let him lead her to a small, private ICU waiting area. Maximus and Joimus were there now and just as Reverend Todd got Ahnna to the doorway, her knees started to buckle. Maximus was beside them in an instant, scooping her up into his arms. "I'm so...tired," she murmured, her head against his shoulder.

No one was in the room but them, and he lay her on the couch, putting a pillow under her head. "I'm not sure how much more she can take," Todd whispered to Joimus, shaking his head. "She is almost completely undone."  He sighed heavily. "I told her I'd sit with Alistair while she rests. I'll...I'll...let you know...should anything...happen."

Joimus asked a nurse for a blanket and a glass of water. "Here, darling," she said, "drink a little of this."

Ahnna took a few sips then lay her head back on the pillow, large tears tracking down her face. Joimus covered her with the blanket, kneeling beside her, stroking her hair. "Rest now, all right. Just rest."

Ahnna reached a hand up, covering one of Joimus'. "He can't die. He simply can't...die." Then she closed her eyes.

Joimus looked up at Maximus, her eyes bleak. They both knew all too well that Alistair could die.

Just when they thought she’d dropped off to sleep, her eyes flew open and she sat up, pushing back the blanket. "I can’t stay here," she said firmly. "I can’t be away from him."

Getting up, she hurried out of the waiting room and down the hall toward Alistair’s room.

Maximus opened his mouth to call after her, but Joimus put her hand on his arm. "I’d do the same," she said softly, "if that were you. Nothing would keep me from your side. Nothing." Turning, she moved into his arms, needing to feel their strong warmth surrounding her.