Chapter Three-Sara's Story. A Home That Love Built Story by Catherine Linda Michel

From Before: Shawn Jackson was the child's name, but in his tirade, the father had blurted out another name. Sara. That's the name he said that his little perverted freak of a son was calling himself!

The father, Jerry Jackson, ranted and raved and was eventually escorted from the hospital by security and the cops, who arrived shortly after Jerry was taken into the private office. He was still shouting about his pervert of a son,and I wanted, more than ever, to shut him up, via a knee to his groin, but Irene restrained me again.

“Cathy! Come on! Being pissed off at that jerk is right, but if you do anything to him, even yelling at him, it'll look bad for The Home! Just let him go. He'll get his sooner or later. What we need to do is protect that child and we can't do that by attacking his asshole of a father. Come on now, let's go find Natalie and see if there's been any change in Sara's condition, okay?

As badly as I wanted to do some physical damage to Jerry, I knew Irene was right. She was thinking with her brain, not her guts, the way I was doing. She took me by the hand and led me back into the hospital and, finding Natalie, we found that Sara'd had a rough night, and was again in surgery, this time to repair some ruptured blood vessels damaged in the attack.

I decided to let Irene go get some rest, and took over the watch until Sandra arrived after lunch. I sat outside ICU, waiting for them to bring Sara back from surgery, alternately planning some kind of revenge against Sara's father, helping the cops find the gang members responsible for the attack, and planning for Sara's future, if she had one. I knew the odds were against her, but I prayed, and I pleaded, and fidgited until Sandra showed up.

“Cathy!” she greeted me. “How's the kid?”

“No changes except she's back in surgery. I'm waiting here til they bring her back. Oh
God, Sandy! This poor child! She's been through so much in her young life, and now there's a better than even chance she'll die here! She's never had a chance to be who she is and now she might never have the chance to be who she could be! Is it any wonder why I built the Home? Kids like this need love and understanding and help, not bigotry, hatred and violence! And that...man! Oohhh, I'd love to re-educate him in a way he wouldn't soon forget! I, I, oh my!”

“What's wrong Cathy? You look a bit odd. Are you alright? Cathy? CATHY!”

I only heard my name the first time Sandra said it. She told me later she'd called me several times, but I never heard her. I had, apparently passed out from the stress. When I next remember anything, I was lying on a bed, being attended to by a doctor and a nurse.

“What happened? Where am I? What's going on?” I pleaded.

“Just relax, Catherine.” the doctor said. “It appears you had a fainting spell, but you are okay now. Your blood pressure was through the roof, and you came close to having a stroke. I'm going to insist you stay with us for a few days, while we get you set up on some medications that will help get that pressure down. I'm also going to prescribe an anti smoking drug for you. It's fairly potent, and might cause a few really spectacular dreams for the first two weeks or so.”

“But, doctor.” I whined. “I have a place to run, people to deal with, things that must be done! Can't we postpone some of these things until I at least find out about Sara, and get her set up at the Home, once she's free from here?”

“Absolutely not, Catherine! Your condition has gone on too long already! If things continue the way they have been, you are risking a major stroke or possible death! I won't have that happening to you! Not on MY watch! Do you understand?”

“Cathy.” Irene broke in. “Sandy and I, along with a few others, can run the Home just fine for awhile. You need to take some time for you! We do not want to lose you! There's still so much that has to be done, so many lives to help, we need you, and we need you healthy! Please, do as the doctor asks? For us...for all the ones, like us, to come?”

“Sigh. Very well, Irene. I will leave the daily running of the Home to you and Sandra for now. You know what needs to be done, but I insist that, since I have to stay here, that I be kept in the know as concerns Sara. In fact, if it's possible, I want to be placed in the same room she is in, when she's released from ICU. If those things can be done, I will stay and not cause trouble. Doctor?”

“I believe we can do most of that, Catherine, but you need to know that there is every chance that Sara will not make it. She has regained consciousness sporadically, but we've not been able to get much information from her. She's in a lot of pain, despite massive doses of pain killers.”

“Then please let me go to her? She needs to know that someone who isn't an employee of the hospital, gives a damn about her!” I pleaded. Doctor? Do this for me, or I'll sign myself out AMA, I swear I will!”

Just then, a nurse came bursting in.

“Doctor! Doctor! Your patient in ICU is awake!”

“You mean Sara?” he asked.

“Yes, I do! She's awake! She's in some pain, but she's calling for you!” said the nurse, excitedly.

“Catherine, Ladies. If you will pardon me, duty calls.” and the Doctor turned to leave the room.

“Hold on just one second there Doc!” I yelled. I have to go with you! I refuse to lay here while there's any chance I might be able to help Sara! I'm no shrink, but I do know what needs to be said to her. Please, Doc?”

“You understand that, while talking with her, you will be required to wear full antibiotic gear? We can't take any risks with infections, as vulnerable as she is right now.!”

“I understand, Doctor! Whatever you want, I'll do, but I must be with her!”

“Very well, Catherine. I'll be watching both you and her, very closely. If there is ANY sign that either of you are in distress, I will end your visiting privileges immediately, understood? Very well. Nurse? Please take Catherine to get fitted with a full suit, and then bring her to ICU three. Use a wheelchair! No arguments Catherine!”

“You'll get none from me doctor. Nurse? Let's go! Irene? Sandra? Get back to the Home and make sure things are good there. It looks like I'm going to be occupied for the next day or three, or more, depending. Nurse? What are you doing standing there? Get that damned chair and let's get this show on the road!”

I was whisked away to an elevator which deposited us on some other floor. Well that's what they are supposed to do, right? Anyway, in some room, they put me into this ridiculous looking outfit that had it's own oxygen supply, and was sealed against the outside. Ugly thing it was, but it could have been a fuschia Santa Claus suit, for all I cared. It was going to get me in to talk with Sara, if she could talk.
Back to the elevator we went and up another floor, where we rushed to ICU three. I pushed the nurse to hurry, and we were cornering on two wheels once or twice. She was out of breath by the time we reached ICU three, and I stood up from the chair, thanking her for all her help. I knocked on the door and the Doctor looked up, recognized me, and motioned me in. He was separated from Sara by a glass wall, using what are called 'Waldoes' to administer drugs and things to Sara. When I entered the room, there was a whoosh of air that went by me. Then the door closed, and I heard pumps start. Soon, the inner door opened and I walked slowly in for my first sight of poor Sara.

She looked horrible, with tubes and wires sticking out of her everywhere. She was pale as a ghost, and was only breathing shallowly. She was awake though, so I went to her bedside.

“Sara, honey, can you hear me? I'm Cathilynn, from The Home That Love Built, and I've come to see you.”

For a moment there was no response, but then Sara slowly, painfully, turned her head enough to see me in my 'space suit.'

“Hi sweetheart.” I said quietly.

Then, against all odds, she spoke.

“I was coming to try to get into the Home when I was attacked. I was at my wits end and had nowhere else to turn. I knew you would help me when I got there. I'm so glad to see you. Miss Cathilynn? I hurt so bad. Those gang bangers really did a job on me. The only thing that doesn't hurt is my hair, and the only reason that doesn't hurt is because they shaved me.” She tried to giggle, but I could tell how much it hurt her to do that.

“I really screwed up, Miss Cathilynn. I'm so sorry!”

“No, no, sweetie.” I said. “You did nothing wrong! It was those pretend bad guys who did this to you, but you're going to be okay. The best doctors in the City are looking after you, and...”

She reached out, even though I could tell it cost her a lot, and took my hand.

“Miss Cathilynn, I know I'm not gonna make it...not this time. I feel all busted up inside, and I hurt so bad.”

“Oh no, honey.” I cried. You're going to recover in time, and you'll come to live with me at the Home! We'll get you all fixed up, and give you a place to live, work to do, school to atend...”

“Again she stopped me, squeezing my hand, weakly.

“Oh Miss Cathy, that all sounds so wonderful, but I can feel myself getting weaker. I need to ask you some things though, privately?”

I looked at the doctor and he nodded. I heard a click, and I could no longer hear hear him or the sounds he had been making.

“Okay, Sweetheart. We're all alone now. Go ahead and ask what you want. I promise I'll stay quiet and let you talk, okay?”

She smiled weakly up at me and asked me to do some things, if she didn't make it. I tried to smile through my tears, but it was so hard! This dear, sweet girl thought she knew she would die, and she wanted ME to make sure she was taken care of properly...after.

“Miss Cathy? If I don't make it, would you make sure I am laid to rest, pretty? I mean all dressed up in a lovely gown, with makeup and jewelry and fancy underwear and all? I never had the chance to wear anything pretty, but I want to go to heaven, beautiful. Will you do that for me?”

“Of course I will honey, but let's not talk of dieing, okay?” I tried not to sob, but it was difficult. I had a huge lump in my throat.

“But I have to Miss Cathy. If I don't tell somebody, my dad will bury me as Shawn, in a suit, as a boy. I'm not a boy, Miss Cathy...I never was.” Her breathing was getting weaker, and her voice was fading.

“After he threw me out, I lived on the street, eating whatever I could get by begging, looking through dumpsters, and even stealing when I had to. I had finally decided to try to get to you and your Home, because I was getting sick a lot, and couldn't afford medicine and stuff. I thought maybe you'd let me stay for a little while, til I got batter, and I could do stuff for you to pay you back.”

“Honey,” I said, When you get through this, you can come and live with me for as long as you want. You don't have to pay anything back. We want you there with us, and even though we barely know you, we love you already. Please, please sweetheart, fight to stay with us? Don't give up. We'll be right here, waiting to welcome you into our family. I should go now and let you rest, but I'll be here whenever you need to talk. Don't give up honey, okay?”

“I'll try really hard Miss Cathy, but the stuff I asked you about? Will you do that for me...in case?”

Swallowing that damned lump in my throat hurt like hell, but I did it.

“I promise, sweetie. I promise that you will be taken care of either way. If it hurts too much, and you just run out of strength, then know that I will do all you asked and more. These doctors here will take good care of you though, so let's look forward to you coming home with me, okay?”

She smiled a sweet, sad smile at me and then fell unconscious. For just a minute I thought she was gone, but she continued to breathe. I looked over at the doctor and he indicated she was just unconscious, not...dead.

Stumbled out of the ICU room, bawling my eyes out inside that damned suit and screaming,

“Someone get out of this damned thing before I drown myself!!”

Finally, with help, I got out of that suit and was carried to a room where they placed me on a bed, with orders to stay there and get some rest. I was completely exhausted and was asleep, or fainted on the bed the moment they put me on it. When I woke up, Irene was there, sitting in a chair by the bed, holding my hand. I jerked upright, frightened I'd missed something, but Irene smiled and said.

“Sara is still hanging in there. The doctors say that your talk with her seemed to do her some good, and she seems stronger this morning. I would have woke you up to tell you sooner, but you needed some serious rest.”

“Oh thank God she's still alive. She needs to live, Irene, you know? She never really had a chance at anything before, and she just can't die now! She's GOT to live!” I cried.

“Whether she lives or dies is up to the doctors and God now, Cathy. If she's strong enough, if she wants it bad enough, then she's got a chance, I think. You however, cannot wear yourself down the way you have over the last few months. Get some more rest. Sandra will bring up some food for you in a bit, and the doctors have promised to let us know if Sara wakes up again.”

“I know, Irene. I know. I have to back off some, but it's so difficult to slow down when there's still so much to be done, and now, with Sara, I have to be strong for her too. Maybe after this is all over, and we have Sara safely back at the Home with us, I can slack off some and take some time off, but not til then. Not now. She needs me, she needs US, to help her be strong and live through this! I'll be damned if I'll quit on her, even at the risk of my own health!”

Irene just shook her head at me and tsk, tsked me.

“Somehow, I knew that was exactly what you were going to say. Sigh, okay,Cathy, I'll go along with you on this, but as soon as it's over, one way or the other, you take some time to get healthy again! I didn't live through all the shit I went through, only to lose you so soon after I've finally found a home, and people who love me.”

We hugged and cried for a bit and I nodded off again for a few minutes. When I woke up again, Sandra was there by my bedside, with a tray of food.