It was nice and peaceful in the house. Maggie and Josh were at work and Becky was upstairs entertaining Grandma Jeanne, or maybe it was the other way around. It was the perfect opportunity to do more editing on my manuscript.

I had just settled in when the phone rang. It was Ozzie with the results of Josh's tests.

"So what did you find out," I asked him nervously.

"There's no way to make this easy, Joe," the doctor said. "It's his kidneys. They're not functioning very well--it looks like they're at about 40% of normal. Of course all he needs is one kidney at 10%, but still, I'm concerned. We'll need to do a kidney biopsy to see what the problem is, then perhaps start treatment. Is he there?"

"No, Ozzie," I replied, "he's working at his grandfather's print shop for the summer."

"Hmmmm. Okay, well, we need to set a date for the biopsy. Discuss it with him when he gets home and let me know what days would be good for him. There's an excellent nephrologist in our group that he can see--Dr. Tucker--and I think I he's available this Saturday. It would mean a short hospital stay. Josh could go in on Friday night and come home Sunday morning. But, Joe, we should do it as soon as possible, okay?"

"Absolutely, Ozzie," I told him. "Tell you what . . . I'll call Josh at work right now and get back to you shortly."

"Great. I'll wait for your call."

As soon as the connection was broken, I dialed the number for Kopy Kat. It rang several times, but there was no answer. It sure wasn't like Dad to let the phone go unanswered. Maybe there was a problem with the phone line. I was about to rush over there when the phone rang again. It was Dad.

"Joe, now listen . . . please don't worry. I'm calling from St. Francis. We had a little excitement at the shop this morning. One of the presses caught on fire while Josh was cleaning it."

"What?!" I yelled. "Is Josh okay? Are you okay?"

"Yes," Dad replied quickly, "we're both fine. Matter of fact, I was next door at the time picking up a few things at the convenience store. Seems in the short time I was gone, the motor on the press suddenly exploded into flames. It wasn't anything Josh did. But let me tell you, he is one extraordinary young man. First he called 911, then he got the fire extinguisher and put the flames out, and after that he ran upstairs to make sure no one was home in the two apartments upstairs."

"But why are you two at the hospital if you're okay?" I asked.

"Well, Josh inhaled quite a bit of smoke, and some of it was pretty acrid. There was one of those big Rubbermaid garbage barrels right next to the press, and it's now melted into a puddle of goo. There's black soot all over everything, and it looks like we'll have to close the shop a few days to clean everything up. Anyway, I just thought we should get him checked out to be safe."

"I'm glad you did. Listen, Dad, I'm coming right over there. Is Josh in the ER?"

"Yes he is, Joe. I'll see you when you get here."

I ran upstairs to tell Mom as much as I knew, trying to reassure her that it sounded like both Dad and Josh were fine. I promised to call her if they had to stay for any length of time.

As I headed up the hill to the hospital, I remembered that I was supposed to call Ozzie back. In all the excitement, it had gone completely out of my mind, despite the fact I was still quite upset about the biopsy.

There was a parking space in the ER lot, so I pulled in there rather than deal with the parking garage. Racing inside, I asked the triage nurse where Josh was. She took me to Treatment Room 7, although the term "treatment room" is a bit of a stretch. The entire emergency department is really one big room with curtains separating the beds.

I was relieved to see Joshua sitting up in the bed, chatting with his grandfather. He was getting oxygen through a nasal cannula . . . a routine procedure for something of this nature.

As soon as Josh saw me, he reassured me he was okay, adding, "But I'll tell you one thing, Dad . . . you don't ever want to have an arterial blood gas test. That really hurts big time!"

Just then, a young resident came into the cubicle with Josh's chart in his hand.

"I know it hurt Josh, but you forgive me, don't you? We had to do it. It's the only way to get a true reading of the oxygen level in your bloodstream."

"Yeah," said Josh with a twinkle in his eye. "I guess you're forgiven. Just don't do it again, okay?"

"Nope, no more," the resident promised. "You are one very lucky young man though, whether you realize it or not. Your blood work shows no major damage, and the chest x-ray looks pretty good, too. I'd like to keep you here on that oxygen for another hour to be safe, but then I see no reason why you can't go home. Just try to stay out of fires for a while, okay?"

Josh laughed. "I joined the rescue squad, not the fire department. Don't worry, I won't be looking for any fires, Doc."

Since Josh was in such good spirits, I decided to deliver the bad news and get it over with. When I finished sharing what Ozzie had told me, Josh calmly said, "Well, if we've gotta do it, let's get it over with. Hey, since the print shop will be closed for a few days anyway, maybe we can do it even sooner . . ."

"Good idea, son. Let me give Dr. Martin a call and see what he can set up for us. I'll be back shortly."

On my way out, I said to Dad, "Maybe you'd better give Mom a call. I told her we'd let her know if we were going to be here for a while."

"Thanks, Joe. I'll call her as soon as you come back."

"Hey, listen! I don't need a babysitter, ya know," Josh piped up.

Laughing, Dad said, "No, you sure don't, but maybe we do. Anyway, you never know what'll happen to you in a hospital. It's always a good thing to have a bodyguard standing by, kiddo."

Fortunately, I was able to get right through to Ozzie and report the latest events.

"Oh, for Pete's sake," Ozzie exclaimed. "What next? Well, okay, let's think about this. The print shop's going to be closed for a few days? Tell you what. Let me see if I can reach Dr. Tucker. I think he's at the hospital on Tuesdays. If I can get through to him, I'll see if he can go straight to the ER and talk to Josh. You'll be there for a bit yet, right?"

"Yes," I replied. "The resident wants him to stay on the O2 for another hour or so."

"Good," said Ozzie. "If I can't reach him, I'll get a message to you so you don't wait around for nothing."

"Thanks so much, Ozzie. We really appreciate it," I said, ringing off.

Back in the ER, I told Dad, "Your turn. Ozzie's going to see if he can reach the kidney specialist. He thinks he's here in the hospital today."

Dad said that sounded good and went off to call Mom.

Not five minutes had passed when a kindly looking middle-aged man came into Josh's cubicle and introduced himself as Dr. Tucker.

Josh sat up as straight as he could under the circumstances, smiled and thanked the doctor for coming so quickly.

"No problem," Dr. Tucker said. "Dr. Martin filled me in on the situation before I left the office this morning, so even without your chart, Joshua, I'm pretty up to date. A kidney biopsy is actually a piece of cake. It sounds a lot worse than it is. Dr. Martin tells me you want to get it over with as soon as possible, is that right?"

"Sure is," Josh replied. "Our squad has its first softball game of the season this coming Sunday, and I wouldn't want to miss that. I can play, can't I?"

"I don't see why not," the doctor said. "My schedule isn't too bad this week, so here's what we can do. Let's get you admitted as a regular in-patient and do the pre-biopsy tests this afternoon. Then we can do the biopsy tomorrow morning and you can go home on Thursday. Would that work for you?"

"That's great," Josh replied.

"I don't think you should work the rest of the week, though," the doctor went on.

Dad rejoined the group just then and said, "Not to worry . . . he won't be working any more this week. Our print shop will be closed for repairs until next Monday."

Dr. Tucker asked, "Oh, would that have something to do with why you're here today?"

All three began talking at the same time, filling him in on the morning's events. Once the doctor got the whole story, he told them he just wanted to take a minute and check Josh's ER chart to make sure there was nothing that would require a change in plans.

I spotted the resident who was in charge of Josh's case and waved him over. The two doctors went over to the nurse's desk to discuss things, and Dr. Tucker returned shortly to tell us everything was all set.

I asked Dr. Tucker if it would be okay to take Joshua to the coffee shop for lunch before they started the other tests.

"Go for it, as soon as he gets off the oxygen," he encouraged.

Dad said, "I'd better call Mom again, and Joe, you'd better let Maggie know what's going on too. Whew, what a day!"

"Sure you don't need a bodyguard, Josh?" I quipped.

"Don't be silly, Dad. Grandpa's right, though. You'd better call Mom. I hope she doesn't go ballistic on us. Be sure to tell her I'm fine, please?"

We went to make our respective phone calls, and when we returned we found the resident removing Josh's oxygen cannula.

"Let's go eat," Josh said. "I'm starved!"

"Typical teenage boy," Dad laughed, shaking his head.

"Whoa, Tiger," the resident said. "Here's some paperwork you'll need to take with you to the admitting office after lunch, okay?"

Josh took the folder, shook the doctor's hand and thanked him for everything.

We had only been in the coffee shop for about a minute, studying the menu, when Maggie came bursting in.

"I went to the emergency room, but they said you were here. Will somebody please tell me what on earth is going on?"

Josh smiled. "Cool your jets, Mom. Everything's fine. Why don't we order lunch first, then we'll tell you all about it while we eat."

Reluctantly Maggie agreed. I had only given her very sketchy information on the phone, hoping not to upset her, but with Maggie, the less she knew the more she worried. Once she had all the details, she went to call Mr. Thompson at the travel agency. She told him briefly what was going on, and asked for the next two days off. He readily agreed, asking her to give Josh his best and keep him posted. He then suggested she might as well take Friday off as well and told her she'd be paid for the whole week. She thanked him profusely and returned to the others. They all agreed Mr. Thompson was a peach of a boss.

Not to be outdone, Dad insisted Joshua would also get a full week's pay, explaining, "If it hadn't been for Josh's quick thinking and actions, my whole building could have been destroyed. Do you have any idea how much stuff in a print shop is flammable? Chemicals, paper, just about everything! Besides, if anyone had been home upstairs at the time, who knows what kind of lawsuit I might have had on my hands. Joshua already earned this week's pay, and a whole lot more."

Josh's face turned crimson, embarrassed by his grandfather's carrying on about him.

After lunch, we headed to Admissions. It didn't take long for Joshua to settle into a regular hospital room. He was a little miffed that he had to ride in a wheelchair from admitting--"Hospital policy," they said. But he was even more annoyed that he was put in the pediatric section. They explained that anyone under 18 had to go in there, besides, they were short on beds in the other units anyway.

It was a nice airy room with two beds, both of which were empty. Josh chose the bed by the window. The pediatric nurse came in and gave him a hospital gown, instructing Josh to remove his clothes. Once Josh was settled, Dad said he'd better head home. He wanted to reassure Mom, besides, he had a lot of phone calls to make to get the print shop cleaned up and back in business by next Monday.

Right after Dad left, a candy striper came in pushing a young man in a wheelchair. "Got a roomie for ya," she said, winking at Josh.

The two young men introduced themselves and started talking. The newcomer was Phil Franklin, a public works employee who'd fallen from a tree and broken his leg in four places. He had a long cast and a nurse came in to hook his leg up to some kind of a pulley device. Josh was delighted to find out his partner was 19.

"Yeah," Phil said, "they got a shortage of hospital beds today. The hospital business must be good. Guess we'll just have to make the best of it. At least I'm glad they didn't stick me in with some cranky little kid."

Josh laughed, agreeing they were both lucky on that score.

Phil's mother and father arrived shortly. The room was starting to get crowded. The duty nurse came in to do her routine vital sign checks on both patients and "Tsk-tsk'ed" through the whole procedure, looking askance at all the visitors. She reminded them there were some very sick children on the floor and asked them to refrain from making too much noise. As she was leaving, she told them there was a "playroom" at the end of the hall they could use if they liked.

Phil raised an eyebrow and said, "Playroom? Sheesh!"

Josh chuckled and replied, "Up for some tinker toys?" But after a few moments' thought, he added, "Hey, wait a minute. If anyone up to age 18 gets stuck in this unit, maybe there would be something of interest to us. We don't have anything better to do anyway. Let's check it out."








Continue to Chapter 12


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