*I really have no idea if hyperbaric oxygen therapy was used to treat open wounds in 1990. . . let’s just pretend it was, okay? ;-)
“Well, they’re worried about the surgical incisions on his stomach and the stab wounds,” Nora told Dan that night. “They really aren’t healing fast enough. . . it’s as if his body is concentrating so hard on fighting off infections that everything else is going by the wayside.” She shook her head. “Thank God this is what we’re worrying about now. . . I mean, it isn’t life threatening. It’s just keeping him in the hospital longer.”
“Can they do anything about it?” Dan asked.
“Well,” Nora said, “that’s what I was going to tell you. You’ve never heard of hyperbaric oxygen therapy, right?”
“I did!” Dan exclaimed. “I saw it on ‘Deep Sea Rescue.’”
“‘Deep Sea Rescue?’” Nora asked, incredulously.
“Yeah. . . isn’t that the thing they use on divers who’ve been underwater too long?” Dan asked. “That oxygen chamber thing?”
Nora nodded, pleasantly surprised. “Yeah, that’s one of the ways they use it.”
“That was the best show!” Dan reminisced. “PBS, man. Yeah!”
“Well, anyway,” Nora said, “Hyperbaric oxygen therapy forces-”
“Oxygen into all the different cells of the body,” Dan interjected.
“That’s right!” Nora exclaimed. “Wow. Anyway, one of the ways they use it is to promote healing of wounds.”
“So. . .” Dan began, questioningly.
“So, they’re going to try that with Ike,” Nora finished. “They did the first session this morning, and they‘re going to put him in about twice a day for the next few days.”
“Can I come and see?” Dan asked.
“Well, I was going to ask you that,” Nora said. “He’s scheduled to go in about seven o’clock tonight, so ordinarily you would be there. But I’ll stay with him, if you want.” She knew Dan was worse than she was about watching Isaac undergo medical procedures, even if they weren’t painful. “It sounds like you want to be there, though.”
“Yeah!” Dan exclaimed. “I mean, it doesn’t hurt him, right?”
“No.” Nora shook her head.
“I’ll definitely go,” Dan told her, decisively.
“Okay.” Nora smiled. “If that’s what you want.”
“No, I can definitely handle that,” Dan assured her.
Nora nodded. “Okay. I’ll tell Ike you’ll be there.”
“I’ll be there!” Dan was emphatic. “I’ll definitely be there!”
“Are you nervous?” Dan asked Isaac. The hyberbaric oxygen chamber concicted of a long glass tube on a platform of scary-looking tanks and wires.
Isaac shrugged. “I was in there this morning. It was fun at first, but not much happens in there.” He sighed. “It looked like fun on ‘Deep Sea Rescue,’ but it’s not that great.”
“You watched that?” Dan asked.
“It was great!” Isaac exclaimed, beaming. “I was watching it when it was on the other night.”
“Me too,” Dan agreed.
“I was hoping they’d ask me. . .” Isaac knit his eyebrows together and took a deep breath, imitating the ‘Deep Sea Rescue’ doctor. “Isaac, are you-”
“Ready for this?” Dan chimed in, in the same German-accented baritone.
Isaac nodded. “Yeah!And then I could go-”
“Yes,” Dan rasped, in the voice of the afflicted deep-sea diver. “I think so.”
Isaac grinned. “Yep!”
“Okay, kiddo, I’m going to start it now,” said the hyperbaric oxygen therapy technician.
Dan narrowed his eyes, smiling slyly. “Isaac, are you ready for this?”
Isaac took a deep breath, rolling his eyes heavenward as if the treatment were his last hope. “Yes,” he murmured. “I think so.”
The technician, whose name tag read “Cindy Louis,” grinned hugely. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “‘Deep Sea Rescue!’ I watched it because I heard it had a hyperbaric oxygen chamber in it. . . I loved that show!” She cleared her throat, pausing dramatically. “I shall now begin the process of increasing the amount of oxgen in the chamber.”
“Thank you for everything that you have been doing,” Isaac told her, solemnly. He had to shout to be heard through the thick glass.
“You’re welcome,” Cindy told him, without breaking character.
The door opened then, and a tall, dark-haired doctor stuck his head around the door. “Well,” he said, “I’ve been running around all over the place looking for you, and you’re right where you’re supposed to be.”
It was Jim Farrigan, the doctor who’d become Isaac’s “primary care physician.” Over the past few weeks, the two of them had naturally become very well acquainted.
“Where did you think I’d be?” Isaac asked him. “It’s your fault I can’t go anywhere.”
“It’s against the Hippocratic oath to beat up nine year olds in hyperbaric oxygen chambers, so I’ll wait until you get out,” Jim told him. He grinned at Dan and Cindy. “This is my worst patient.”
“Yeah,” Dan agreed. “The only way we can control him is to lock him up in that thing.”
Isaac’s eyes widened in mock indignation. “What do you expect? You’re all torturing me!”
“I’m not!” Cindy protested.
“No, not you,” Isaac agreed. “Just them.”
“It’s all in the name of medical science.” Jim defended.
“So, are you in here just to pick on me, or are you going to let me out?” Isaac asked.
Jim sighed, the tone of his voice serious. “Ike, you know I’d love to let you out of here, but I’m too fond of you to do that.”
Isaac, sick of yelling, rolled his eyes, grinning.
“Anyway, I just wanted you to hear it from me. . . we’re going to do another endoscopy tomorrow.”
Dan had no idea what an endoscopy was; it didn’t sound pleasant. Isaac, however, seemed very familiar with the term.
“Not again,” he groaned.
“I’m sorry,” Jim shook his head. “We just have to take a look around.”
“Are you gonna do it?” Isaac asked.
Jim nodded.
“That’s okay, then,” Isaac told him. “I don’t mind.”
“Tomorrow, morning, then?” Jim proposed.
“Sure,” Isaac agreed, sighing. “Tomorrow.”