51.
     Dr. Randall Smythe sipped coffee that tasted like
battery acid from a slighty-soiled paper cup.  His nerves
were frayed from working for the past sixteen hours
straight.  Stress flowed through his body, leaving a sea of
weakness and tension in its wake.  He sat on the cold vinyl
chair, and glanced through a recent edition of Psychology
Today.  The article that caught his eye involved the
connection between dreams and some cases of delusion
behavior.  Apparently, Stanford had done a study whereby
some seemingly normal subjects began acting very strangely
after complaining of strange dreams.  Randall's eyes ran
down the page as he drank down the details.  He read
further, and started munching on a slightly stale jelly
donut.  Crumbs fell from his mouth to the dingy table below.
He brushed them off absently.  The subjects he was reading
about had apparently entered a deep state of psychosis that
in some cases ended up with the patient in a deep state of
catatonia.  There were no cases of complete coma states,
however.
     Randall's pager buzzed like an electronic mosquito.  He
grumbled and looked down at the display.  The number was
from the nurse's station.  He crumbled his paper cup and
threw it into the garbage.  He willed himself to stand as
small patches of darkness swirled over his vision, his arms
feeling like they were strands of spaghetti.  As he stood,
his legs nearly gave way. With the last remaining bit of
willpower, the doctor found the energy to wake up.  He
rubbed his eyes and shook his head as he mentally prepared
himself for the next few hours.
     He walked quickly down the tile hallway, the stark
white reflection of his white coat reflecting off the floor.
His shoes squeaked as he passed the washroom and neared the
reception area.  The hustle and bustle of the ER rang
through his ears as the activity shot adrenaline through his
body.  His heart raced as he approached the nurse's station.
     She looked up from her paper work, her exhaustion
evident in her tired glassy eyes and sallow complexion.
     "Dr. A new patient just arrived by the name of Allison
Moyers.  You may want to speak to the attending about her."
     His eyes widened.  "Why is that?" he said.
     "The report said that she had lapsed in a coma
suddenly.  Her friend and his parents tried to wake her this
morning, but couldn't.  They called the ambulance, and she
was admitted to ER.  Dr. Navi is attending."  She handed him
a clipboard with Allison's file.
     He grabbed the file and thanked the nurse.
     
     Randall rushed down the hallway and through the large
double doors.  They whooshed closed behind him.  He walked
down the hallway, passing several car accident victims on
the way.  Randall looked upon a child that must have been no
more than six as he thrashed and screamed.  The doctor and
nurse in the room held him still as his parents sat in the
corner of the room looking helpless.  A small white bone
jutted from the child's leg, as his eyes flashed with
intense fear and pain.  The nurse reached down and injected
a sedative.  After a few moments, the child closed his eyes
and was at peace.  The doctor walked over to the parents.
     Even after more than fifteen years of practicing
medicine, scenes like that still tugged at his heart.  With
all the modern medical miracles, the suffering was
unbearable sometimes.  Especially children - Randall wished
that he could just wave a magic wand and make all the pain
disappear like a rabbit in a silk hat.  No such luck.  The
reality is that accidents happen, and people suffer.
Sometimes science isn't enough to ease the pain.
     Randall arrived at Allison's room, and tapped Dr. Navi
on the shoulder.  He did not hear Randall come in as he was
so immersed in assessing Allison's condition. Dr. Navi
jumped slightly, and turned.
     "Hey.  She just came in.  Her vitals were fine, but we
can't regain consciousness.  The medic tried smelling salts
on the way in.  Nothing."
     "Another comatose?  That's gotta be the tenth one this
month."
     Dr. Navi grimaced.  "Twelve, actually.  It's like it's
contagious or something."
     Randall grunted soft laughter.  "Yeah. Like Julie said,
maybe something in the water."
     "It sucks to be so emotionally attached to patients,
doesn't it?"
     "Yeah. being objective was never one of my strong
suits."
     Randall glanced down at the assessment in his hand. "So
what's her status?  It says here they will be running
toxicology in the next few hours.  Anything else?"
     Dr. Navi rubbed his eyes.  "That's about it.  When do
you want to start the EEG study?"
     "Tomorrow.. Let's just see if there are any signs of
improvement first.  Her vitals are stable then?"
     "Yes. everything's normal now.  The medics did say her
heart rate was slightly elevated when she was picked up.
It's back to normal now."
     "Ok.  I've got to make my rounds.  Let me know if
things change."
     Dr. Navi looked back down at the clipboard, and
scribbled some notes.  "I'll page ya if there's a change."
     "Ok. Thanks"  Randall walked out of the room and
proceeded down the hallway, the adrenaline of a few minutes
ago replaced by a burning sensation in the pit of his
stomach.
     He peered into the next room, and walked in as thoughts
tumbled through his mind.
                            * * *
     Stephen glanced down at an old Reader's Digest as he
sat in the waiting room.  His cheeks were lobster red from
crying, and his glassy eyes shone under the bright
fluorescent lights.  He looked over to his parents as they
sat beside him.  He didn't speak. words seemed to fail him.
A thousand different thoughts tumbled through his mind like
clothes in a dryer as his fingers twitched.  The small tic
near his right eye was now a constant tremor.  He poked at
it with his index finger and rubbed at the eyelid like he
was shooing away a fly.  He closed his eyes, and pretended
just for a second that he was on a beach somewhere sitting
beside Allison as the sun painted golden rays onto the white
sand at his feet.  Steel blue water tumbled towards shore as
the salty tang of the sea air drifted through his nostrils.
Stephen smiled as he ran his toes through the warm sand,
turned to Allison, and smiled.  The vision disappeared as he
opened his eyes, and reality slammed into him like a
careening Mac truck.  Stephen sighed deeply and began to
pray.


                                                                      
    
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