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Page Six Note: Music soundtrack is high quality and slow loading in some cases. Patience. :) **Graphic surgical image below** |
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The elder Brackett appeared dubious. "I see." "Dad…" "It would have been typical of you not to show up. You've been avoiding me like the plague for ages." Kel guiltily stared at his fingernails. In truth, he had initiated this dinner engagement at Dixie's urging. Over the past two days, however, he must have considered at least a dozen excuses to cancel this evening's plans. Emotional intimacy had never been his forte, especially with his father. He deliberately accepted the responsibility of two additional patients after his shift ended in order to stall for time. That's why he was running twenty minutes behind schedule. Breaking the awkward silence, Kel motioned to the waiter to bring him a drink. Brent raised his eyebrow. "Am I that unpleasant to be around that you need a drink?" "No. No, of course not. It's been a long day, and I'm tired and I'd like a scotch." Noticing the glass clutched in his father's hand, Kel retorted, "I see you're imbibing in your usual poison. Do you need alcohol to feel comfortable around your own son?" "You're being ridiculous." "Then stop interpreting my actions as though there's a hidden psychological meaning behind them. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar." "Point taken," Brent conceded. "So how has work been, besides busy?" "Pretty much the same," Kel shrugged. "The new hospital administrator doesn't appreciate the value of the paramedic program to the community, so I've been having some interesting `discussions' lately." "Do you want to talk about it?" "Not really." The other man thoughtfully steepled his fingers. "Why not?" "Dad, I'm not one of your patients, all right?" Kel was developing an excruciating headache. He began to methodically massage his right temple. "Kel, for crying out loud! I'm a psychiatrist, not a witch doctor. It's an honorable profession. Unfortunately, you've always acted like you were ashamed of what I did for a living. I didn't get my degree out of a cereal box. I went to medical school at Harvard, and completed a residency and fellowship at Johns Hopkins, perfectly respectable institutions. Somehow you never seemed to accept my vocation as a `real' job. Sitting in a plush office and keeping a schedule didn't seem to fit your definition of work." "Don't you think this conversation is a little one-sided? As I recall, you weren't exactly supportive of my educational choices either. I wanted to put myself through school so I wouldn't feel pressured to follow in your footsteps. I waited on tables, parked cars and even worked as an evening janitor at the university in order to put myself through school. Granted, I didn't have the same Ivy League education you had, but I earned my way through my own efforts, and I'm proud of that. And I distinctly remember how horrified you were when I announced I wanted to go into emergency medicine. You called it barbaric, and said I'd wash out in a week." Smiling smugly, Kel added, "Well, I'm still here." Shaking his head, Brent argued, "You still don't understand what this is about, do you?" |
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"I presume you're going to enlighten me." The father sighed in frustration. "You've been so blasted determined to escape from what you perceived to be my shadow, you've been running at full throttle most of your life. You thought my occupation was boring, so you chose the most exciting one you could imagine, emergency medicine." Kel pondered this thought while he took a sip of his scotch. "But don't you see?" Brent asked. "You're still acting like this is some bizarre competition between us. It's not, you know." Mercifully, the waiter appeared to take their order. Kel had little appetite, but knew he was expected to follow the ritual. Without looking at the menu, he mechanically recited the desired items. His anxiety was mounting with each passing moment. Concealed by the linen tablecloth, he was clenching and unclenching his fists. "Dad, I simply wanted to be my own man. That's a normal desire." "That's true, if not taken to extremes. But you never know when to draw the line. Everything is all or nothing, black or white," his father chided. When you decided to become a doctor, you couldn't settle for just any specialty. You had to outdo me and prove you were better than your old man. And what could be more dramatically different than a field that deals with life and death issues every minute?" His father's words cut him with the precision of a surgeon's scalpel. An uncomfortable feeling in his stomach was making its presence known. Kel replied, "You've never accepted the fact that we're totally different people with different interests. Maybe sitting around talking to people all day long is your cup of tea, but it isn't mine. I thrive on the excitement of the emergency room." "What is it precisely that you find so appealing? Is it the power you wield of being the head of the department, or saving people's lives?" Kel's famous temper flared. "Saving people's lives, of course!" "And you don't think I help save people's lives?" Brent shot back. "You may have looked down upon my profession and the scheduled hours I kept, but they allowed me the luxury of being able to raise a family and participate in a healthy social life. On the other hand, you'd rather work like a maniac to the exclusion of all else. You're forty-two years old and you have no life to speak of. You're not able to sustain relationships, and your time is essentially confined to the hospital and your apartment." Color began to drain from the younger man's face. He was furious that his father would dare to presume to lecture him, particularly in a public setting. Undeterred, Brent continued. "Even though we rarely get together, we do work in the same hospital. I know you're working yourself into an early grave. Your long hours and avoidance of vacations are legendary. But it's taking its toll on you. You look exhausted. You're pale, you've lost weight and you look like you're not sleeping well." Incredulous, Kel warned, "This is none of your business." "You're my son. That makes it my business." A war waged within Kel. He was angry with his father for pursuing this line of conversation, and with Dixie for insisting he schedule this stupid meeting. Most of all, he was angry with himself for allowing events to unfold as they had. After all these years, he should have known better than to discuss certain topics with his father. It was a foregone conclusion he would always lose these heated debates. The throbbing in his temple worsened. "Dad, you have no right to make judgments about how I choose to live my life." Brent leaned back in the leather-upholstered chair. "Then answer me this question. Did you succeed?" Kel was thoroughly confused. "Succeed in what?" "Did you prove to yourself you're not me?" "I don't understand." |
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"Obviously you thought I was so terrible that you went through extraordinary measures to avoid being like me. In personality, temperament, interests, profession, you've tried to be my opposite in every way. But you're a grown man now. You've established yourself." Brent's tone softened and he gently placed his hand on Kel's forearm. "Son, if you're still running away from something, do you even know where you're running to?" Suddenly Kel felt the room was closing in on him. Overwhelmed by nausea, he bolted from the table and raced to the men's room. Standing over the toilet, he proceeded to lose what little he had eaten earlier in the day. A few minutes later, he splashed his face with cold water to revive himself. He caught his reflection in the mirror. For the first time, he didn't see the cocky, self-assured head of emergency services at Rampart. He saw an insecure little boy wanting to be anyone but his father. ******************************** From : "SM Fortis" <satchie51@hotmail.com> Subject : [EmergencyTheaterLive] The Restaurant Confessional Date : Wed, 27 Nov 2002 09:42:38 -0600 Grateful to be home in his own apartment, Kel stretched out on the couch. Despite Joe’s advice he wait awhile before scheduling another reconciliation attempt, Kel promptly contacted his father and made reservations for dinner that evening. Patience never had been his greatest virtue. His colleague was right in one respect. If Kel dictated the terms of the meeting and tried to keep the conversation on message, perhaps he would feel more in control of the situation. He was determined not to feel powerless in the presence of Brent Brackett again. Since his return home, Dixie called twice to make sure he was okay. To combat his growing anxiety, Kel occupied himself by spending most of the afternoon performing errands and browsing at a jazz record store Joe was always raving about. After purchasing a couple of albums, he glanced at his watch and headed back to his apartment. He was pleased to discover the patio door was already replaced. One unpleasant reminder of the previous evening’s events was now conveniently eradicated. Unfortunately, the stark white bandages wrapping his right hand and arm were still grim reminders of his angry outburst. Kel cringed at the memory of his senseless act. Placing his package on the table, he headed toward his bedroom and began rummaging through his closet for an appropriate suit. After a quick shower and shave, Kel changed clothes and left ahead of schedule. He thought if he arrived at the restaurant first, he would feel less intimidated by his father. He was resolved not to leave in humiliation again. The maitre d’ promptly greeted Kel and ushered him to his table. He briefly closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, trying to prepare himself for the exchange that awaited him. Looking through the windows, Kel saw a spectacular sunset. Somehow the scene comforted and encouraged him. The advice of his friends was at the forefront of his mind right now. The sooner he could establish some common ground with his father, the sooner their fractured relationship could begin to heal. Shortly thereafter, the elder Brackett was escorted to the table. Kel rose not only as a point of etiquette, but also as a token of respect. Brent offered his hand in greeting, and suddenly Kel felt self-conscious about his injury. Pasting an uncomfortable smile on his face, he gingerly shook his father’s hand. Brent frowned. "What happened to your arm?" "Oh, I had a little accident at home. I’m fine." Eager to deflect attention from himself, Kel asked, "Did you have any problems finding the restaurant?" "No, not at all. Your directions were quite specific." Appreciatively eyeing the premises, Brent remarked, "This place has a very cozy atmosphere. How did you happen upon this amazing little discovery?" Kel inwardly smiled at the memories of many pleasant evenings he shared with Dixie here. "A friend introduced me to it several years ago. I hoped the change of venue would provide a fresh start for us. There would be no ghosts from the past to haunt us." Signaling the waiter, he ordered a round of drinks for the two of them, preferring club soda for himself. He decided he could not afford to have his thoughts clouded by alcohol, nor his famous temper unleashed by lowered inhibitions. No, tonight Kel needed his complete faculties. His father’s brow furrowed. "You’re not having your usual?" "I’m taking some medication," Kel lied. "I heard you took a rare day off today. Is everything okay?" That was the problem with a small community like Rampart, news traveled fast. How much did his father know about last night? Kel’s answer was evasive. "I had some personal business to attend to." "I have to admit, I was surprised to hear from you this afternoon," Brent said. "I thought our last meeting went rather badly." Taking a sip of his drink, Kel proceeded, "That’s why I wanted to see you again so soon. I think we’ve allowed this situation to go on long enough. Don’t you agree?" His father sighed. "So, has the prodigal son experienced some glorious epiphany since we last met?" "Dad, I’m simply tired of this ridiculous state of affairs. We’ve been at odds since I was a kid. Okay, I’m not a brilliant psychiatrist, so maybe I’m too dense to understand the official psychobabble explanation. But I’m smart enough to know this standoff has come to an end." "You always have been willful." The men were granted a respite when the waiter came to take their order. They sat in silence for several minutes, each studiously avoiding contact. It was painfully obvious neither felt comfortable in the other’s presence. |
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Finally, Brent addressed his son. "I understand you were upset with me last night." Kel shot his father a baleful glare. "We’re not here to discuss MY problems. We’re here to discuss OURS." "Okay, so what’s really on your mind?" Attempting to keep his tone of voice devoid of emotion, Kel asked, "Why DID you move to Los Angeles? Of all the places in the country you could have relocated to, why did you have to move here, and why did you choose to practice at Rampart?" Brent stared at the table centerpiece. "Your mother wanted the two of us to make amends. Since it was obvious you weren’t going to make the first step, she thought I should swallow my foolish pride and initiate the process." "I don’t understand." "When you were a boy, we used to enjoy spending time together, as strange as that seems now. We went almost everywhere together." A small smile escaped Brent’s lips. "I used to take you to the hospital with me, and you’d tell anyone who would listen that you were my son, and you were going to be a doctor like me when you grew up." The older man remorsefully shook his head. "But soon your youthful boasts appealed to my vanity. I envisioned you as my own immortality, so I wanted to remold you in my image. Since you were always so willing to please me, I assumed you would be agreeable to this arrangement. I honestly pictured us spending quality time together over the years, and in due time, I foresaw the day when you would take your rightful place as my partner in my clinical practice." "But it didn’t quite work out that way," Kel said flatly. "Unfortunately, it didn’t. I pushed you away instead. In my arrogance, I refused to recognize you as a unique individual. You always had a sense of your own identity." "I resented you dictating my life," Kel stated. "You never bothered to ask me if I wanted to participate in your grand plans or not. All I knew is one day I was Dad’s precious son who could do no wrong, and then the next you found fault with everything I did. No detail was too insignificant to escape your exacting scrutiny. I thought you didn’t love me anymore." "But that was the problem," Brent explained. "I loved you too much, but in an unhealthy way. Ironic, isn’t it? Here I was, a well-renown psychiatrist, but I wasn’t able to see I was sabotaging our relationship. Every time you rebelled and became angrier, I became more critical. Because you failed to conform, I assumed you were stupid and ungrateful. I felt like a failure not only as a father, but also as a psychiatrist. My ego wouldn’t allow me to admit I had failed. Until the day you left, I had to keep trying to remake you." Kel rubbed his face. "Why didn’t you say anything before? "Saying ‘I’m sorry’ has never come easily to me. I didn’t realize the full implications of what I had done to you until you were gone. By that time, we were barely speaking to each other. Over the years, begging for forgiveness became next to impossible." Conflicting emotions swirled within Kel. He was angry with his father for not mentioning any of this earlier, but he understood how difficult it must have been for him to do so tonight. Kel took after his father in that respect. It was not in his nature to cross emotional barriers without significant effort. If it were not for the encouragement of Dixie and Joe, he would not be here this evening having this conversation. He knew he was hardly in a position to judge his father on this particular point. But he also felt a myriad of other feelings: abandonment, betrayal, resentment, bewilderment and surprisingly, still even love. Kel saw his father with new eyes. Brent didn’t look so arrogant and controlling now. Instead, he came across as an aging pathetic figure that once hoped to live forever through his son. For a long period of time, the two men did not speak. They were content to nurse their drinks and stare into oblivion. They were relieved when the waiter served the food. For a few moments they would be spared the necessity of having to engage in conversation. As they began to eat, Brent looked on with genuine concern since Kel seemed to have trouble carving his steak due to his injured hand. "Do you need any help with that?" he offered. "No, that’s okay, I have it under control. I’m pretty good with a knife, if I do say so myself," Kel grinned. "I see you haven’t lost your sense of modesty over the years." The son shrugged. "It’s hard to be humble and great at the same time." "You’re a lot like your mother in some ways, very resilient and single-minded. I know you tend to think of it as a sign of weakness, but you’re more compassionate like she is." Brent softly said, "After all these years, your mother has never forgiven me for driving you away from us. I’m not sure I’ve forgiven myself." Kel was confused. He wasn’t sure what he expected from this evening’s meeting, but his father’s uncharacteristic confession certainly wasn’t it. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Recent conversations with Dixie and Joe weighed heavily upon his conscience. Years of hurt could not be easily erased with a simple apology. Yet, they needed to begin somewhere. He thought of his mother, and the years of anguish this rift must have caused her. Didn’t he at least owe it to her to make an effort? Staring at his nearly full plate, Kel tentatively cleared this throat. "Dad, as you’ve pointed out before, I’ve never been good at maintaining relationships. But maybe now is a good time to begin. Don’t you think it’s time we started behaving like two grown men and put aside our differences, if for no other reason than for Mom’s sake?" |
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"I don’t even know where to begin," Brent said reluctantly. Cautiously leaning forward, Kel spoke. "Perhaps it’s time for you to visit me in my office for a change. You know, see me in my natural habitat? It’s possible I subconsciously went into emergency medicine to spite you or to prove something to myself. But somewhere along the way I discovered it was my passion. I really love this field, and I’m good at it. I can’t imagine being happier anywhere else but the emergency room of Rampart. What do you say, Dad?" Brent considered his son’s proposal. "I don’t know. I heard the head of the department can be a real bear and a force to be reckoned with." "No, those are all vicious rumors," Kel chuckled. "He’s a real pussycat once you get to know him. At least that’s what the head nurse is fond of pointing out." "Speaking of the head nurse, do I have your reassurances she’s not going to bite my head off if I set foot in the ER? She must think I give you such grief." "No, Dad. In fact, she’s one of the reasons I called you. Dixie has been after me for ages to get me to end this conflict. She’s a persistent woman." "Sounds like your mother," Brent joked. The two men laughed. For the first time all evening, they felt genuinely relaxed. "How about meeting me in my office for coffee tomorrow morning?" Kel asked. "I can give you a tour of my department." With a tinge of a little boy’s expectation in his voice he added, "Hopefully you’ll be proud of what your son has become." |
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****************************** From : "Roxy Dee" <laterrapincabesa@hotmail.com> Subject : Patch Job~~ Date : Tue, 03 Dec 2002 15:25:14 +0000 They piped down when Kel came through the treatment doors not alone, but accompanied by Brent Brackett, the tyrannical father figure they had heard so much about through Paramedic Mendelson in the hall. Dix cast significant eyes at Johnny and Roy and the rest of the gang in the room and angled her head to show her statement about their making amends was really quite true. She started heading for the door. Kel called out after her. "Say Dix, did you get Roy's blood samples for the l--?" he broke off when Dix held up the three vials already clasped in her long fingernails without turning around. "oh... ok." Dixie winked at the gang on her way out. Dr. Brackett noticed the unusual presence of Roy's coworkers in the room, trying to blend in with the glass medicine cabinets. "Roy, you've quite an entourage of fans here. Didn't know you were so popular. Thought Gage here was the star in your outfit." "They're worried about Chet, doc." DeSoto said without smiling. "Nothing to worry about." Brent Brackett spoke up instantly. Dr. Brackett stiffened at his father's intrusion into his patient / doctor territory, but the firemen all saw Kel relax a bit when Kel realized Brent was actually bringing his own skills to bear accordingly as was his right as senior attending house psychologist. "We just left him and his chest Xray, young man. Looking good. Both of them." Brent told Roy and the rest of the firemen in the room, hanging on to his white coat's lapels. |
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Johnny's eye rose skeptically, making Kel smirk in mild amusement. "What Dr. Brackett is saying, is true. Chet's chest Xray is showing little edema and a huge reduction in swelling. Looks like the effect of the lungful of ammonia he took in was only temporary, made that way, by your prompt fast action with administering unmoistened O2. And even his abdominal plates look good. I saw only minor shadowing over his spleen. The mast trousers did their job. All bleeding's under control. The surgery I'm doing on him should just be a patch job, gentlemen.." "That's a relief.." Mike Stoker sighed. "It wasn't fun seeing Chet fly off my engine like he did." "Yeah, Chet's no superman.." Gage chuckled. They hushed down when Kel Brackett finished checking Roy out. DeSoto showed him the place where the ammonia had soaked into his arm. Only a little reddening was showing up under the light. "Mild first degree freeze burn. I don't think any had time to get into your blood stream, Roy. Your lab tests will reveal that for sure in a few minutes. Get dressed. We're through. Just be sure to call me on return of symptoms, all right?" "You got it, doc.." he said. Kel hurried out the door to head for surgery. Brent was left in the room with the gang and he handed Roy his T- shirt back. "Is he a good man to work with, Kel Brackett? Afraid to admit, that I've really just started watching him work, only tonight." Roy answered without hesitation, but subconsciously straightening from where he sat on the treatment gurney. "One of the best, sir. He singlehandedly saved the Paramedic Program from being legislated out of operation during its earliest days and he trained not only me, personally, but my partner Johnny here, as well, to function as efficient intermediary caregivers in just about any prehospital setting. To date, in only six years, Dr. Brackett created twenty paramedic teams embedded in just as many firehouses across L. A. County. Entirely due to his own hard work and perserverence." Brent laughed openly and clasped Roy's hand warmly. "My g*d. Do we need an introduction my boy! Seems Dixie's really painted me out to be the worst ogre of a two ogre pair now hasn't she? You're practically foaming at the mouth singing praises about my boy, son. Relax....True, I'm just like Kel in temperment, but I'm mellower by miles.. A trait of all this gray hair, I suppose. Listen..I really appreciate your devotion to my son's work.. Sounds very genuine if I do say so myself. Mr...mr..." "DeSoto.." Roy said, returning the handshake. Johnny's nervous smile fell off into a sideways grin of relief. "DeSoto. A solid French name. And the rest of you?" A round of introductions came after that from Cap right on down to Stoker. ------------------------------------------------- They ended up in the coffee lounge, away from public view, so the firefighting gear wouldn't alarm hospital visitors. Brent Brackett learned a whole lot about his son from Dixie and the Station 51 crew over the next hour while they waited for word about Chet's surgery results. Brent finally couldn't stand their fretting. He rose, abandoning his coffee mug. "All right. I've monopolized your good graces enough folks, digging for dirt or gold concerning my very grown son. Tell you what.. I've got a lot of clout around here as house psych. Think I'll peek in on how Kel's handling your man, captain." he said. Cap looked startled. "You don't have to do that. We know Chet's probably fine, doctor. Just a patch surgery job, Kel said." "Be that as it may. I'll be killing two birds with one stone by making the round. I'll get your answer for you that much sooner and I'll be able to see my son in action at the same time. Fair trade off." "Just stay in the observation room.." Dix chided. "Where would the fun be in that, Miss McCall? I want to see how my son works under pressure.." Dix scowled, but it was tempered with amusement. "Family peer pressure's dirty pool, doctor, and you know it.." "Kel can handle it. After all, he's handled this whole paramedic thing and all these men behind it for six years? How's one more doctor hanging over his shoulder gonna matter?" "Plenty..you'll both be wearing the same fake smile." Dix said without a shred of humility, as Brent made his goodbyes to the stationhouse gang and accepted their profuse thanks for doing what he was about to do. Captain Stanley leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head and wondered when the sparks were going to ignite into a big fire between the Brackett docs once again. He hope Brent's little appearance in Kel's operating ward wouldn't prove to be a new catalyst for another fiery father son feud. Dixie didn't appear overtly alarmed. She simply reached for the nearly empty coffee pot on the table contentedly and poured herself a cup. That cup went right into Joe Early's hands when the silver haired doctor showed up into the nurses lounge. Gage said, "How's he doing?" Johnny asked Joe immediately before the man had taken even one sip. "Thanks Dix. I need the pick me up. Fine Johnny.. His vitals are still stable. Kel's almost through with the exploratory. We had no problems intubating Chet after he was put under, if that's what you want to know. His air passages were very clear Johnny." Gage nodded, sorry that he was so transparent. "Thanks doc. His earlier wheezing was kinda scary." "That's the funny thing about anhydrous ammonia. It either really really does a number on you, or it let's you off lightly after a really good scare. In Chet's case, he got the all bluff end of the spectrum. There's no retinal damage or even corneal abrasions. No chance of that blinding you guys were all fearing during the rescue.." Mike Stoker said. "Good. Last thing we need is Chet Kelly banging around the station with a sight cane while he cooks fifteen alarm chow for us every night." The whole gang laughed at the image. Joe even chortled. |
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Roy asked about their other victims from the accident. "How about the woman we brought in, Daphne? She doing ok?" "Same story as Chet, minus the internal injuries. She'll stay the night and'll be discharged in the morning if her lungs stay clear. Nice fast action Johnny on ending that laryngeal spasm then." Dr. Early said. "I didn't do anything. The hose team got a good pocket of air around us and she resolved on her own." "Lucky. She could have been that close to triggering a tracheal collapse reflex when her larynx cramped like that." Joe said, holding out miniscule fingers in the air. "I know.. you could have knocked me over with a stick when she started breathing again after I got a good lifting grip on her throat." Gage admitted. "I remembered at the last second that gas inhalation reacted the same way as a liquid water drowning with spasming like that. I almost forgot how effective the technique was." "Who taught you that move?" Cap asked. "That was pretty slick considering there wasn't much else you could do for her, wearing your SCBA mask like that.." "Dr. Brackett." "Dr. Brackett." Roy and John both replied in stereo. Dr. Early grinned. "I take it Brent was in here a while ago." "How'd you know?" Dix said in surprise. "They said their answer too fast, Dix, dead give away." "Oh.." A loud stomach rumble permeated the air. From Marco.. "Lo ciento.. All that running made me hungry." "Time for a pizza run.. My treat.." Joe said. He got on the phone to dietary, shushing them all into silence, before the gang's active protests stopped him. "Consider it part of your followup ammonia gas treatment.." he quipped. "Thanks doc, we owe you one.." Cap grinned. Cap and the others literally inhaled the four pizzas while Dix and Joe merely nibbled. The pizza pans had been tossed onto the dish cart for only about thirty seconds when the wait for news about Chet grew once again intolerable. All eyes started watching the clock and the house phone for word from Dr. Brent Brackett's sticking his nose in where it didn't belong. *************************************** From : "patti keiper" <pattik1@hotmail.com> Subject :[EmergencyTheaterLive] Of Mice and Men.. Date : Thu, 12 Dec 2002 21:31:07 +0000 Kel Brackett didn't even look up from his surgical field when he felt a presence at his shoulder. He knew right away that it was his father in the blue scrubs near him. "Doctor Brackett." he said simply and as neutrally as he could. Kel could feel his cheek twitching under his mask. But inwardly, he told himself once again in his thoughts.::I did ask dad to see what I do for my living.:: he sighed. ::I just have to get used to him taking advantage of the invite, hook line and sinker.:: Brent Brackett knew how to observe in a sterile ward. His ungloved hands were behind his back and he stayed behind Kel at half an arm's length. "Before you say anything.. I...only stepped in here solely on behalf of the boys who work with this young fellow. They're milking this anhydrous exposure checkup requirement to the max and they're all still here, crowded in the nurse's break lounge. Joe Early had to feed them because they wouldn't even leave the staff paging phone unattended long enough to grab a tray from the cafeteria, fearful they'd miss hearing from you." |
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Dr. Brackett wasn't beneath trying to shock his father. "The resection on the mediastinal aspect of Chet's spleen is a straight forward repair job. See for yourself.." and he intentionally sprayed his running tube of sterile saline wash over the area, not caring that a part of its red tinged spray splashed up, catching his father's mask and his scrub top liberally as it plumed upwards when the older man didn't anticipate stepping back at the sound like all the others around the table did. Brent flinched but then blinked, wondering if the dousing had been a ploy to drive him away, but he was already more than determined to remain. He cleared his throat and said loud enough for all in the room to hear. "Oops. Good thing gore has never bothered me. Please, show me what you've done so far, doctor. I'm all eyes." he said, hiding any trace of negative emotion from his voice. Brent surprised himself when his own temper, didn't flare up at all. Nonetheless, a well informed, Dixie enlightened tech hastily suctioned away the water for Kel from Chet's abdominal cavity almost a little too fast. Kel had to hold Chet's spleen down with his forceps so it wouldn't plug her tube's port as she used it. Kel glanced at her reflexively but the woman's face stayed looking down at what she was doing. For her benefit, Kel said. "Sorry about that, I'll slow down." Dr. Brackett half wondered if there was anyone on the staff who didn't know about the Brackett family friction. And he quickly began feeling like an *ss for what he had done. ::Dixie's thorough on the grapevine, I'll give her that. About as thorough as she is running triage. Everyone around us is walking on egg shells. That's gonna change..:: he vowed. ::Now.:: he said. He was glad for his mask when it hid the rising red of embarrassment in his face. He decided to show the entire room that Dixie's tale about them was now completely baseless. "Dad, look here. This is where Chet's fall impacted against his spleen. See that mark? You can almost make out lettering from the regulator valve he fell on top of. He must have been wearing a SCBA bottle when he fell and that metal piece on the harness was what cut him internally." "Hmm. I see it." Brent mumbled. "Looks sort of like the artifacts that show up on chest x-rays sometimes from drivers impacting their sternums against the steering wheel column?" Brent asked. Then he chuckled. "Saw a Chrysler logo chevron once on one from a patient of mine. That young man now hangs that x-ray on his wall." He sighed accepting a cotton wad from a nurse gratefully so he could mop up his gory face. "He now shows it to all of his dates and tells them it's his secret tattoo that can even be felt, for a kiss." "Yeah? Well Chet won't be left with any such girl magnet. This tissue isn't bone. It will heal cleanly in a few days, leaving no traces. Chet's external skin bruising will stay longer than this laceration." Kel said, snipping off his last internal suture stitch. "There," he said, "Good as new.." Kel dabbed the spleen with gauze until Brent could see his work. "Bowels clear? And the intestines?" Brent asked, peering closer. "Completely. All of Chet's internal bleeding came from this site alone. The spleen's the body's repository for whole blood so it's not surprising this tiny tear hemorrhaged so much. The anti shock trousers did a good job stopping it as you saw on the films." "So I did.." Brent said. "So, what should I tell the fireboys?" |
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"That it was a piece of cake, doctor. Chet's no longer in jeopardy." "Will do." and he nodded and winked to the nervous tech across from them. Then he turned to his surgeon son. "Coffee after you close?" "Wouldn't miss it." Kel said. "Then I'll leave you all to your work.." Brent Brackett leaned down to Chet. He saw the young fireman's eyes had been ointmented and protectively taped shut and he carefully stayed away from where the anesthesiologist was listening to Chet's breathing through the endotrach tube with a stethoscope. He spoke firmly into Kelly's ear. "Looks good son. Almost done. Wake up fast cause your friends are still hanging around to see you. My guess is that it won't be good for them later if your dispatcher has to order them back to the stationhouse. Oh, and Joe Early just told me they've saved some pizza for you." he said, patting Chet's sheet covered shoulder. "So hurry up son, before someone gets hungry again and it disappears." Everyone around the table laughed when Chet's stomach took that moment to start growling. It was very audible as it and the organs around it were still exposed to the air. "That got through my anesthesia?" the man at Chet's head joked. "Usually I have people's plumbing napping soundly during splenectomies." "Yeah well this fireman's appetite is legendary, Dale. Don't feel bad. I hear Johnny complaining about his donut stealing prowess all the time." Kel shook his head ruefully, amused. "Dad, I know of a better way to wake him up if you're interested. Grab Johnny's walkie talkie. I'll have Doctor Riley here on the respirator play him his station's alarm tones after he's extubated." he joked. "Aren't you the creative one.." Brent teased back, just before the surgical bay doors closed between them. "But I think I'll pass on that. Positive reinforcement works so much better than shock tactics.." he replied. Brackett immediately regretted his little stunt with splashing the sterile wash. Internally, Kel accepted Brent's hidden admonishment. ::I deserved that. Now why am I still acting like such a pig? This unspoken feud between us is being addressed. What am I afraid of?:: Inside his head, another voice of conscience spoke up. ::Losing your mother because of it.:: ----------------------------------------------- Brent Brackett was still wet from his shower when he dialed the nurses lounge. The phone rang, making the whole gang jump in their seats as way too much coffee in their systems made them overreact. Then the babble in the room ceased when no one moved to intercept the phone. Marco, Stoker, Johnny and Roy all hushed up in tension, like frightened rabbits when it was the red phone and not the black one that was paging them. Dixie MacCall answered the phone. "Nurse's lounge, Dixie McCall speaking.." Brent greeted her. "Miss McCall? Put Mr. Kelly's captain on. I wanna speak with him directly. And before you ask. All things went well. Both my visit and with Chester's exploratory. His spleen's intact. Didn't need to be removed. So hop to, woman." Dixie hid her smile even from her eyes as she handed over the phone. "Captain Stanley. You're needed here." |
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"Oh, boy. Hope it's not McConnike for playing hooky. He never goes through public HT channels when he's really mad at somebody." Cap said, leaping off the lounge couch and wiping nervous palms on his turnout. Dixie couldn't help herself. She said, "Relax captain. It's not him. Remember, I'm your solid alibi here for all of you staying at Rampart even if the chief does call. I already have my speech planned out." and she broke into a reasoning voice, sugar coated with Dixie no nonsense. "I'll just say, 'Chief, It's a little busy today, and that's why it's taking longer than usual to examine all of your men. ' when the time comes." "Glad somebody's prepared for that call." Hank sighed, and rose, taking the phone from her. "This is Fireman Stanley." with more than just slight apprehension. Brent grinned."Go home, captain. Chet's already being sent to recovery. His spleen was only holed, not grossly ruptured. It was all just minor surgery." Cap excitedly spread the good news to his listeners out of ear shot. Brent heard the cheers and had to take the phone away from his ear for a moment but then he shouted before Hank hung up again. "Captain Stanley, one thing. Hand that to-go box full of pizza to Dixie for her to take to his room or Chet's gonna personally kill ya." "Huh?" "Subliminal suggestion, Captain. Works everytime. I told him it would be waiting." "Gotcha, doc. She heard ya. Thanks, Dr. Brackett, for everything. We really appreciate it." "That's why I'm a psychologist, son. Take care." and Brent hung up the phone. ***************************** From : "SM Fortis" <satchie51@hotmail.com> Subject : [EmergencyTheaterLive] Hello? Date : Thu, 12 Dec 2002 23:15:18 -0600 Silently cursing himself as he entered the elevator, Kel punched the button for the ground floor. What was he thinking when he invited his father to spend time with him at work? Did he possess a bizarre need to validate his sense of self- worth? Was he trying to dazzle him with his diagnostic and surgical abilities? After all these years, did Brent Brackett’s opinion still matter? Upon reaching his destination, Kel approached his office with grim determination. With greater force than was necessary, he flung the door open. Brent sat in one of the leather-upholstered chairs in front of the imposing desk. Pasting a smile on his face, Kel addressed his father. "Hey, Dad. Are you ready to head to the Doctor's Lounge?" Brent shrugged his shoulders. "In a minute. I thought we could talk first." The younger Brackett nervously laughed. "You sound like a typical shrink. You guys always want to talk." "Spoken like a true surgeon. Always wanting to plunge right into things." "Dad.." "It’s okay," Brent said. "Obviously we each have our own talents." An uncomfortable silence ensued. Feeling like a world-class jerk for his behavior earlier, Kel cleared his throat. "Dad, I’m sorry for that little stunt in the OR. It was immature and uncalled for. You just caught me off guard, that’s all." "I know. But when you invited me to watch you work, you didn’t plan on me ambushing you either." "I did assume it would be under more controlled circumstances," Kel admitted. Leaning back in his chair, Brent said, "I had an opportunity to speak with a couple of your biggest fans this evening." "Oh?" "The paramedics that work with the firefighter you operated on. I believe their names were Roy and Johnny?" Kel smiled broadly. "They were one of the first teams I trained. I wasn’t a huge supporter of the program initially. Oh, to be honest, I was vehemently against it. I thought it was dangerous and essentially amounted to practicing medicine without a license. But eventually I came around and became one of the program’s staunchest defenders. We cleared some substantial legislative hurdles and funding crises, and now I can’t imagine how we managed pre-hospital care without our paramedics." |
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"They were quite effusive in their praise," Brent commented. "You certainly have earned their respect. You’re more than a mentor to these men." Suddenly embarrassed, Kel joked, "Well, perhaps they may not feel so charitable when it’s time for their annual performance evaluations." "Seriously, Kel. That says a great deal about your character. I would be immensely flattered if someone thought that highly of me." "But Dad, you’re well respected in your field." "It’s not the same," Brent lamented. "So what if I’ve published extensively? Other than impressing a handful of snobbish colleagues and adding a few lines to my Curriculum Vitae, I haven’t accomplished anything of lasting significance." Kel rubbed his temple. First there was the strange confession in the restaurant, and now there was a melancholy tone to his father’s last remark. This was proving to be an interesting evening. Staring at the carefully arranged bookcase, Brent continued. "Based on the hospital grapevine, I expected you to be arrogant and overbearing, and thought your employees would cower in your presence. Instead, I discovered you’re merely passionate about your life’s calling. In retrospect, I can see your career choice wasn’t an act of parental defiance. This is what you were meant to do." "I can’t imagine doing anything else, Dad. I feel complete here." "Yes, I can see that now." Resting his elbows on his desk, Kel asked, "Dad? Don’t you think we need to forgive ourselves too?" Brent raised a questioning eyebrow. "What?" "Don’t get me wrong. Forgiving each other is a significant step in the right direction in putting our relationship back on track, but it isn’t going to help if we’re consumed with guilt over past offenses." The elder Brackett buried his face in his hands. "That’s easier said than done. You don’t have a constant reminder of your mistakes." "I don’t understand," Kel said. "Your mother isn’t the same person anymore. She blames me for tearing her family apart. Scarcely a day goes by that I’m not reminded of my failures as a father. You have no idea what it’s like to go home every day, knowing your presence is barely tolerated." "So when you moved to Los Angeles." "I was not only trying to reestablish communi- cation with you, I was trying to save my marriage," Brent finished. "Wow," Kel exclaimed. "I had no idea. Mom always sounds okay when I talk to her." "Of course, she would," Brent snorted. "You’re her precious baby, even if you are forty-two years old. She still wants to protect you from all of the unpleasant things in life." "Oh, man. I really messed up, didn’t I? I must have broken her heart when I left home." "She was pretty upset with both of us," Brent pointedly added. "You’re not entirely at fault." Kel was furious with himself. He was so anxious to escape his domineering father, he never considered the effect his departure would have on this mother. During telephone conversations, she always sounded so cheerful. Now it was apparent because of the power struggle between the two men, his mom had been cruelly deprived of the most cherished relationships in her life. "Do you think she’ll ever be able to forgive me?" Kel asked earnestly. "Hah! You’re completely blameless as far as she’s concerned. I’m the heartless ..well, you get the idea." "That’s not fair. It was ultimately my decision. I could have handled the situation better," Kel reasoned. "Hindsight is always crystal clear, son," Brent replied. "At the time, you were so blinded by your contempt for me, I doubt you could have arrived at any other solution. Besides, as much as I hate to admit, I was relieved to see you go. After years of yelling and screaming, I looked forward to having some quiet time with your mother." |
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The younger man attempted a feeble grin. "I assume that was a case of be careful of what you wish for?" "Absolutely. Your mother didn’t speak to me for weeks. The situation deteriorated to the point where we separated for a couple of months." "You’re kidding!" As Kel looked across his desk, he realized the man sitting opposite him was a stranger. It was difficult to comprehend this was someone he once shared his dreams and aspirations with. Was it his imagination, or did his father age a little bit more each time he shared another humbling personal secret? "So how are you two doing now?" Kel inquired. Running his fingers across his chin, Brent responded, "We’re managing. We’ve settled into a comfortable routine here, and she’s made new friends. But hardly a day goes by that she doesn’t ask about you. She wants to know if I’ve seen you, do you look well, how is your career doing that sort of thing. Mainly she wants to know why I haven’t marched into your office and thrown myself at your mercy." Mentally evaluating the available floor space, Kel said, "I don’t know, Dad. Perhaps there’s a spot over here where prostration might be an option." A chuckle was heard from across the room. "I’ve groveled enough for one evening. We’re overdue for a cup of coffee." As Brent rose from his chair, Kel motioned for him to sit down. "Wait a minute, Dad. I want to make a phone call." "Can’t it wait until tomorrow? It’s late." "That’s the problem. I’m hoping it’s not too late," Kel explained. Puzzled, Brent sat back down. "Who are you calling?" "I want to call Mom." "At this hour?" Jolted to reality, Kel pushed the phone back to the corner of his desk. "You’re right. I don’t know what got into me. Besides, I don’t even have the number on me." Moved by the haunted expression in his son’s eyes, Brent sighed. "Do you have a pen?" "No, she’s probably already in bed. I’ll call her later." His father seized control of the phone and dialed the familiar number. Thrusting the receiver into Kel’s hands, Brent quietly left the room. With each ring, Kel’s heart rate accelerated. His mouth felt incredibly dry. Oh, this was ridiculous, he thought. He was a grown man calling his own mother. It wasn’t like he was a gawky teenager asking the prom queen out for a date! The ringing stopped and was replaced by a gentle voice. Summoning his courage, Kel tentatively said, "Mom? It’s Kel....." |
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------------------------------------------ Doctor Brackett awoke in a sweat, and startled awake in his hospital room. With a start, he realized that it wasn't the first day of his emergency admission anymore. It was the last one, fully a week after he had collapsed in Dixie's administrative office with a sky rocketting blood pressure. It had been only Roy DeSoto and Johnny Gage's fast, careful care that had prevented a stroke in him, he knew. ::I was too high strung to calm myself down. Now I'm living testimony to their still solid effectiveness as paramedics. :: he decided. ::Glad they both made captain.:: Sighing in relief that his dreams about his father had only been a recap of what had once been, Kel sat up and tested his physical strength out yet again in his legs and feet. No tubes of any kind stuck out of his body. ::Good riddance. I was getting tired of those.:: Kel thought, realizing once again that he was already in his street clothes, waiting for his ride home. ::I wonder when Dad's coming? It can't be too long now. And I wonder what he's got planned for me this time?:: he thought. Brackett smiled when he realized that the worst of both of his situations, lay behind him. ************************************************** Subject: Like Father Like...? From: Erin James <etlhostej@voyagerliveaction.com> Sent: Tue 4/15/08 3:16 AM Brent was soon at the door with a smile on his face from ear to ear. "Hi, Kel." Brent smiled. "Are you ready to go?" Kel winked at Dixie, who was standing patiently with the customary discharge wheelchair. Kel said, "Been ready since Wednesday." "Okay, All-better-boy. Get in." McCall teased. She was slightly surprised that Kel didn't fuss about it. Brackett ignored her suspicion. "Whose car are we taking?" Brent replied, "We're taking my truck. It's got the most room, remember?" |
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