'Which room is your father in?'
'Twelve.'
'Oh, yes. Mr. Huerdeen. I'm familiar with the case. What would you like to know?'
'I was just wondering if he's going to be going home. I mean eventually, not right away.'
'He'll probably be going home next week. He doesn't require life support or continued treatment, and to be honest, there's not a lot we can do for him at this point. He'll be prescribed anticoagulant medication, and we'll probably enroll him in our stroke-recovery program, which involves informational classes for the family as well as physical therapy for the patient. As you know, your father's right side has been affected by his stroke, and the rehab will be concentrating on retraining his mind and body to adapt to their post-stroke condition.
'But the fact is, he'll need full-time care. He'll need a live-in nurse, someone with professional training. I don't know what type of insurance your father has--'
Miles cut him off. 'that's not a problem.'
'Are you sure? I hope so, but I'd suggest you look into the details of your father's plan. A lot of these senior health plans let the HMOs determine the course of treatment rather than the patient's doctor, which means that they have standardized solutions to every problem and a set amount they'll pay for each illness or disability. I'm not saying that's what
your father has, but if it is, you're going to be facing some major, major medical bills.'
Miles drove home feeling depressed. He wasn't the happiest guy on the planet even under the best of circumstances, but now he felt as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders. His life seemed oppressive, stifling, and instead of going straight home, he drove aimlessly toward the Hollywood hills, Cruising over the narrow winding canyon streets, concentrating on the road, trying not to think about his father, his job, or anything remotely related to his life.
Luckily, his father's insurance covered everything. Bob had worked in the aerospace industry during the boom years and had retired when pension benefits were at their peak, so he wasn't locked into an HMO and could pick his own doctor. As Miles sorted through the documents and policy statements, he learned that not only would the insurance company pay a hundred percent of the hospital bill, it would also cover ninety percent of the rehab costs.
He wished his own insurance coverage was even half this good, and he longed for those bygone days when employers actually took care of their employees rather than giving them the shaft. The shaft. Did anyone even use that phrase anymore?
He sighed. Another sign of encroaching old age.
It was Saturday, and after visiting with his dad, Miles went down, policies in hand, to talk to the hospital's 'patient representative.'
The representative, Ted, bore more than a slight resemblance to Claire, and like his ex-wife she seemed at once sympathetic and capable. She efficiently sorted through the documents he gave her, made a few phone calls, and within an hour everything was set.
'l'hey'll be sending a nurse--or a 'caregiver,' as I think they prefer to be called---out to your house this afternoon
at two. As I'm sure you heard from that last phone call, the hospital no longer provides in-home care to our patients directly. We've contracted with another company for that service. Everything is coordinated through here, however, so if you have any problems, come and see me and we'll get them straightened out.'
Miles nodded.
'The caregiver will be dropping by today just to intro duce herself, to explain a little bit about what she does and when she'll be coming over permanently.'
'She won't be living with us, will she?'
'That can be arranged if it becomes necessary, but at this time Dr.
Yee does not think your father requires round-the clock professional care. So no. She'll probably come in the morning, stay the day, and you'll be responsible for watch thing your father at night, which shouldn't be too hard since he'll be sleeping then. But the caregiver will explain more about that to you this afternoon. Mostly, she'll be coming by to see the layout of your house, determine if there needs to be any modifications in your father's bed or other furniture. Things like that.' She smiled. 'As I said, if there are any problems, just give me a call.'
Miles left the hospital shortly after speaking with Dr. Yee on his afternoon rounds and hurried home. A pretty, youngish red-haired woman who looked like a country music singer was already waiting for him, leaning against the hood of her
Camry, a brown briefcase at her feet. He parked on the street, got out of the car, and walked toward her. 'Hello,' he said.
'I'm Miles Huerdeen.'
'My name's Audra? Audra Williams? I'm the home health nurse assigned to your father?'
She had a pronounced Southern accent that made statements sound like questions, and though he ordinarily had a prejudice against such a manner of talking--its speakers al ways sounded stupid to him--Audra exuded an air of confidence and competence, and as she began explaining what she did and how she would be assisting his father, he stopped even noticing her accent.
The two of them walked through the house, Audra jotting down notes in a leather-bound organizer. In Bob's room, she stated that she would be ordering a new bed for him, an adjustable hospital bed, and then she added on her list a special mattress and a meal tray. Miles didn't know if any of these accessories were covered by insurance, but he nodded in agreement.
They finished up in the living room, where she gave him a stack of pamphlets as well as a video on home health care. He led her to the door and was about to say good-bye when
Audra turned toward him. 'Mr. Huerdeen?'
'Yes ?'
'I just want you to know that I'm a Christian? I'd like to get that straight from the beginning? I'm a God- fearing woman? I am here to provide a service to your family in this, your hour of need, but I am born-again, and I think you should know that up front?'
: That came out of nowhere.
She looked at him expectantly, and Miles maintained the strained smile on his face.
A God-fearing woman.
Why would a woman who defined herself as Cbxistian fear God? Shouldn't she love God? He never had been able to understand the bizarre system of interlocking, overlapping rewards, promises, and prohibitions that born- again Christians used to guide their lives.
He considered replacing Audra, asking for someone else. That was why she'd warned him, and it was a considerate thing to do. Especially in this situation. A born-againer, he knew, would really annoy the hell out of his dad. Of course, he and his dad would annoy the hell out of anyone even remotely religious, and Miles thought that maybe his father
would like that. It might boost his spirits to be involved in a little bloodless battle now and then.
He smiled at the nurse. 'Audra?' he said. 'I'm glad you'll be here.
The next day was the second Sunday of the month. Miles had learned from Marina Lewis that although her father wasn't going to be there this weekend, he ordinarily sold Amberolas at the Rose Bowl's monthly flea market. He'd worked for forty years as a lathe operator in a machine shop, but after retirement, looking for something to do with his time and in need of a few extra bucks, he'd started buying and restoring antique phonographs. Marina said that most of his friends these days were fellow antique sellers.
She had no specific names to give him, and once again her father was being peculiarly uncooperative, so Miles' barebones plan was to go to the swap meet and ask around until he found someone who knew Liam Connor.
He stopped by the hospital first to see his dad, stayed until he'd had a chance to talk to Dr. Yee, and then headed up the side streets toward Pasadena, avoiding the freeways : that were being earthquake retrofitted.
Wind overnight had blown away most of the smog, and the sky above the Rose Bowl was actually blue. Miles
