Entry 19891218 - Bethany Krajick

_December 18, 1989, Milford, Ohio_


"Fran, it's Bethany."

There was a hitch in Bethany's voice that made Doctor Fran Mercer immediately aware something terrible had happened.

"Hi, Bethany. Aren't you in Guam?"

"Yes," came the soft reply. "Fran, Nick's been shot."

"Shot?!" Fran gasped. "How is he?"

"On life support," Bethany replied, sounding very, very tired. "The doctors suggesting we remove him from it."

"Is someone with you, Bethany?" Doctor Mercer asked, her voice expressing her concern.

"Two military wives and the base chaplain."

"What do you want to do?"

"I don't know," Bethany replied with a deep sigh.

"Can you tell me about his injuries?" Doctor Mercer asked gently.

"He was shot twice; once in the stomach and once in the head."

Doctor Mercer reeled from the revelation, trying to fathom how something like that could happen, but those questions were for later.

"What did the doctors tell you?"

Bethany took a deep breath and let it out, "That the damage to his brain is so severe that it's unlikely he'll regain consciousness, and even if he does, he'll likely never recover from the traumatic brain injury."

"Do you believe them?"

"Yes," Bethany said quietly.

"Is Nicholas with you?"

"He's sleeping on a sofa here in the base hospital chaplain's office. I said that 'daddy was hurt', but at six months, I'm not sure that registers in any real way."

"You know I can't tell you what to do, Bethany, but I will support whatever decision you make. If you decide to disconnect the machines, make sure you say 'goodbye'. I'd advise against taking Nicholas into the room."

"It all seems so easy when it's an academic exercise," Bethany sighed. "Reality is so very different."

"I remember the conversations we've had on the topic. Have you talked to anyone else?"

"No. I know someone called Chicago, so I'm sure they know. But I haven't spoken to anyone. I have to make this decision on my own."

"Yes, you do. Did Nick leave any instructions?"

"No," Bethany said with a wan smile Doctor Mercer couldn't see. "Like most military men, he was averse to wills of any kind. He felt they were tempting Fate. He did fill out the pro-forma will the military has, but only reluctantly."

"Did you two ever discuss what to do?"

"No. Steve and I had quite a few discussions about it, but Nick and I never did."

"And what did you conclude?"

Bethany sighed deeply, "That if there was no realistic chance of recovery and some quality of life, we wouldn't want to be kept alive by machines."

"Thank I think you know what to do," Fran said gently. "Take some time, think about it, make your decision, and then call me, please."

"I will."

"May I speak to the chaplain, please?"

"Yes, of course."

"This is Lieutenant Commander Paul Francis," a strong male voice announced. "I'm a Roman Catholic Priest."

"Hello, Father. I'm Fran Mercer, a clinical psychologist in Milford, Ohio. How is Bethany holding up?"

"About as well as could be expected, I think."

"I take it that thing are as bad as she said?"

"She gave the most positive assessment," Father Francis said.

"I assumed that was the case. She's not religious."

"I know. She and I have had several very good talks. I'm here to support her in any way possible."

"Thanks, Father."

"You're welcome. Did you want to speak to her again?"

"After. I asked her to think it through, make a decision, and then call me once she had."

"I'll take care of her," Father Francis said.

"Thank you. Goodbye."

"Goodbye."

Fran hung up the phone and simply stared at the receiver, unsure what to do. After a couple of minutes, she picked up the phone and dialed Laura Paulus' number.

"Hi, Laura. It's Fran. Bethany Krajick's husband was shot and is going to die."


_December 19, 1989, Milford, Ohio_

"I don't really have any choice," Bethany said, sounding weak and exhausted.

It was just after midnight, but Fran had not been sleeping. She'd been sitting in her living room with her husband, Sam, with a pot of chamomile tea when the phone had rung.

"Did you say 'goodbye'?"

"Yes, but I decided to take Nicholas in with me. I just couldn't bring myself to keep him away. I won't take him in when they remove Nick from the ventilator."

"That's wise."

"I called Kathy and talked with her. She wanted to fly out, but that really made no sense. She said Steve had a fainting spell when he heard the news. I'm worried about him."

"Let his doctors worry about him, Bethany. You know he's had syncope, and you know that Doctor Barton will make sure he has the best care possible."

"I know, but I'm still worried."

"And he'd be the first one to tell you not to worry, wouldn't he?"

"Yes," Bethany sighed.

The bigger concern Doctor Mercer had was that Bethany would seek comfort in Steve's arms, or rather, his bed, and that was something which might lead to a complete disaster.

"What are your plans, if you know them?"

"I think, because of all his friends, it's best to have his memorial service at Great Lakes. Then, I'm going to bring Nick home to Milford. In the end, I think that's the best option best for me. The Navy takes care of literally everything, so I just need to tell them when and where."

"Come see me when you get home, Bethany. You're going to need help."

"I know. I just need to get through the next few days."

"If I remember correctly, one of the men he was close to on base in Chicago will come escort you and bring him home."

"Maybe. It depends on the logistics."

"Bethany, make sure you talk to someone there."

"I've been talking to Father Francis and a staff psychologist. I know the drill."

"Yes, of course, but you also know that we're often the worst patients. Please call me when you know the details."

"I will. Thanks, Fran. For everything."

They said 'goodbye' and Fran hung up the phone, then went back to sit with her husband.

"She's going to take him off life support?" Sam asked.

"Yes."

"What do you need?"

"Just hold me, please," Fran sighed, collapsing into her husband's arms.

About fifteen minutes later, she straightened up.

"I need to make a call."

"It's almost 1:00am," Sam replied.

"I know," Fran said, getting up.

She walked over to the phone and dialed a number.

"ER, Bala speaking."

"Bala, my name is Doctor Fran Mercer. I believe one of my patients, Steve Adams, might have been admitted."

"Yes, Doctor Mercer. Doctor Adams' husband was admitted for observation. I can let you speak to the Attending on duty if you'd like more information."

"Yes, please."

"One moment."

Fran listened to the canned 'music on hold' for about thirty seconds before the doctor came on the line.

"This is Doctor Miller," a male voice said.

"Doctor Miller, I'm Doctor Fran Mercer a licensed clinical psychologist in Milford, Ohio. I understand you admitted one of my patients, Steve Adams, for observation?"

"Yes, Doctor. He had a syncopal episode and was brought to the ER by ambulance. We conducted a full battery of tests with no abnormal results. He was admitted to cardiology by Doctor Washington, and he's being kept overnight on the orders of Doctor Al Barton. He'll be released in the morning if there are no medical indications for keeping him in cardiology."

"Thank you, Doctor Miller."

Fran hung up the phone and went back to sit with her husband.

"I know you can't tell me any details, but those two names seem to be linked together."

"No, I can't," Fran agreed. "But yes they are."