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“What about the coma?” I inquire since he hasn’t been conscious for several days.
“We are hoping that he will come around today, since he is no longer being given lorazepam and propofol,” she explains. “The high concentration of these that came back in the blood tests is the most suspicious aspect according to Dr. Novacek.”
“Does he have any idea what Dr. Potaturri had him on for the month prior to the overdose?” I ask with growing curiosity.
“Not yet.” She shakes her head with raised eyebrows. “But the prescription label on the bottle we found in his pocket indicated that the pills contained 5mg of hydrocodone and 325mg of acetaminophen. So the pills should have been stamped with a M365 inscription. These pills had no inscription at all, indicating they were either from a compound pharmacy or the street,” she elaborates with a heavy sigh.
“So Dr. Pot was living up to his reputation?” I ask, thinking that everything was coming together in a neat little package.
“That would be the conclusion most people would jump to right away, but it’s not that simple,” she replies, deflating my hopes just a bit. “Tyler could have burned through his pills and bought more from a dealer and put them in the prescription bottle. We see that all the time, especially with pain killers.”
“So where do we go from here?” I ask, disappointed by the lack of a clear-cut resolution.
“The pills have been sent to the FBI crime lab to be analyzed,” she says, with a venomous look in her eyes. “Once those come back, toxicology will take a look at everything Dr. Potaturri has administered to see if there appears to be criminal intent. After that, things might get interesting very quickly.” She stands silent for a few seconds before closing Tyler’s chart and moving toward the door.
“So we wait?” I shrug my shoulders feeling helpless.
“Yes. And depending on the results either Detective Kelley or an FBI agent will stop by this afternoon to consult with Dr. Novacek as well.” Her look suddenly softens. “By the way, I’m sorry for how you were treated the other day. There were so many rumors swirling around, nobody wanted to take any chances.”
“Thanks, but I’ve been getting it from all sides so don’t feel too bad.” I give her a weary smile. “I just want to get this all figured out before anyone else gets hurt.”
“I hear you.” She smiles back. “We’ll do everything we can.”
After she leaves the room, I walk over to Tyler’s bed and look down upon him. I begin to think that maybe a weird drug combination could be to blame for his recent behavior. Maybe he’s not completely to blame, just as it wasn’t all Dads’ fault for how things turned out. Even though my brain is foggy with exhaustion, I can’t help thinking about something I heard in a college psychology class. Your life is merely the result of your perception. I’m beginning to see that there may be a lot of truth to that statement.
My father raised us and took us around the world in spite of the fact that he had found out there was a fifty-fifty chance that we weren’t even his kids. My heart sinks at the thought of him wanting me to carry-on the family legacy and my overwhelming reluctance to even discuss the topic. Realizing that it’s too late for any type of reconciliation with Dad, I vow to not make the same mistake with my brother.
“What did you find out?” Mandy asks sleepily after waking from a short nap in the family room.
“They think the drug combination has wiped out his short term memory and his long term might even be effected,” I tell her, still struggling with a heavy heart.
“Are you okay?” She moves closer and slips her arms around me.
“No, not really,” I admit, squeezing her tight. “I need to make some phone calls and get to the bottom of what is really going on. Dad is gone, Tyler is out of commission and Mom isn’t much better.”
“Oh really?” Mom’s irritated voice completely disrupts the moment. “Who has been here night and day while you have been flying off to Monaco and Kentucky,” she retorts with irritation in her voice. I love how she keeps saying the wrong state. She knows damn well Ray lives in Tennessee.
“Mom, I’m sorry. It just seems like you have been kind of out of it ever since I’ve been back,” I try to explain. “You’re drinking and smoking…”
“Yes, that’s true,” she seethes. “My ex-husband got his head almost completely blown off, then my youngest son went off the deep end and ended up in a drug induced coma. Meanwhile my other son gallivants around like he’s above it all.” She glares at me intently, waiting for my response.
