Err on the Side of Violence: Terribly Acronymed Detective Club Series (Book 3)

Chapter Thirty-One: Joe, Summer-Fall, 2005

Joe stared down at the withered husk of what had once been his father, curiously unable to feel anything but bewilderment. The circumstances that brought Dad to this hospital bed were so inexplicable, and happened so rapidly, that confusion was the only demotic that made sense. The man who, hours before, had been merely an older version of the strong, vital man he'd grown up with, now lay curled in a near fetal position, occasionally writhing, eyes rolling behind closed lids, muttering something that sounded like Italian but was mostly gibberish. The man who'd shaved without fail every day was stubbly and rough, his mouth crusty on the sides with something white. His hands...

"We had to restrain him during treatment," the doctor said, seeing where Joe's eyes lay, and taking an unconscious step backward at the look on his face. "He was thrashing, preventing us from putting in an IV. He had a spiking fever and was low on fluids and sodium. He's a little better now under sedation, but we may have to maintain this comatose state until the fever goes down. We're trying to figure out what happened, but at this point it's still a mystery."

Dad's mouth, whenever it wasn't uttering guttural pronouncements that made no sense, occasionally made chewing motions, and his hands strained against the cloth ties, reaching toward his mouth, as if he were miming feeding himself.

"See that?" the doctor asked, indicating the motion. "That's common in patients with low sodium. The body wants to feed itself to get the sodium it needs from food."

Mom sat slumped in a chair beside Dad's bed, wrung out from weeping. He couldn't blame her for freaking out. He still clearly remembered the panicked phone call she'd made, telling him Dad was sick, that he took a nap and wasn't waking up but was lashing out like he was in the middle of a nightmare. The events that followed had been a nightmare. He'd left Lauren with the kids at home, explaining that there was some kind of emergency at his mom's house, and rushed over, finding Dad on the couch, having what looked to the untrained eye like an epileptic seizure. Mom had tried calling Johnny first, apparently, but couldn't find him. Joe could see Dad had to go to the hospital. The only question had been whether to call an ambulance or drive him himself. He didn't know if Dad would have made it if they'd waited for an ambulance. Instinct had driven him to grab his father and throw him over his shoulder. Dad had been red hot, and his flailing arms and legs had made him hard to carry, and Joe had suffered a few hits, but they'd barely registered in his urgency to get Dad into the van. Mom had sat with him, trying to restrain him, but mostly just trying to prevent him from falling over in his seat while Joe drove.

Luckily Burnaby Hospital wasn't very far away from where they lived, but the seconds had seemed to slip away at every stoplight. He'd pulled up at the entrance to Emergency and carried him through the sliding doors calling for a doctor. Emergency staff had sprung into action, wheeling up a gurney, but getting Dad to stay on the gurney had proved an immediate challenge. They must have used the restraints as soon as Joe had left them to properly park the van.

Mom had stayed behind in the van, enduring the blaring horns of other cars trying to maneuver around the van to find parking. The horns had stopped when Joe had reappeared to climb into the driver's seat, either because the blockade had been about to disappear, or because no one had wanted to confront the driver when they'd seen his size. Nevertheless, once Joe had found a proper parking space, he'd escorted his frantic mother back to the emergency room, where people in scrubs had hovered over Dad, inserting needles and a drip line. Of course Mom had broken down immediately, fearing his imminent death. Joe had just stood there, numb inside, unable to tear his eyes away.

Finally, when it seemed Dad had been stabilized, the doctor had found the time to explain what they'd done so far. He then asked them to help him fill in a medical history form and, as he did, asked them questions about what had happened over the course of the day leading up to the "episode," as he called it.