Date: Thu, 23 Aug 2012 00:50:07 -0400 (EDT)
From: ErastesTouch@aol.com
Subject: A Throw Away Kid, chapter 17

Throw Away Kid - by Erastes
Copyright 2012 by Erastes
Chapter 17 – Healing Time.

I raced out of my office and told my secretary I had to leave and didn't
know when I'd be back.  She just accepted that and told me to take
whatever time I needed, before I bolted out the door, headed to my car
and sped off for home.  What I didn't realize was that DSS and the
police had arrived at residence even before my lawyer had called me, so
they were already inside.

From what I learned later, I guess Bryce had been on the computer I
had set up in one of the spare bedrooms upstairs when they arrived.  He
was doing his class work, but he had left the television on downstairs
after watching one of those educational programs I had assigned.  For
that reason, he didn't hear their vehicles pull into the driveway, but he
did hear them when they began pounding on the door and then someone
yelled.

"Police, open up.  We have a warrant!"

Hearing this, Bryce jumped up, looked out the window and saw the
police cars in the driveway.  He was beginning to panic when he heard
them smash the front door in with the weighted battering ram they
carried with them for this purpose.  When he heard this, he panicked
even more and pulled a typical kid move.  He dove under the bed to
hide.  He had no idea what was happening, although he just assumed
the police were after him, so he felt he had to hide.  Unfortunately, this
was the best idea he could come up with on such short notice and in
such a rattled state.

By this time, he could hear people moving about the house and yelling
words like 'clear' every so often, and then he heard people come
upstairs.  A few seconds later, he saw a pair of black boots move past
the bed and walk over to the computer, which was still on, and then the
guy moved to the other side of the bed, knelt down and discovered
Bryce underneath.  The man reached under the bed to grab him and
Bryce slid out on the other side, got up and bolted for the stairs.   When
Bryce did this, the guy stood up and ran around the bed after him.

Bryce thought he might be able to race down the stairs and get out of
the house before they could catch him, and then he planned to find
someplace to hide in the neighborhood for a while.  He thought maybe
he could even make his way to the factory and stay there until things
died down, but unfortunately a DSS man was in the hallway.  He
reached out and grabbed a hold of Bryce's shirt as he sped past and was
able to stop him.

This caused Bryce to panic even more and he fought to pull free of this
man's grip.  Bryce wasn't that far away from the top of the stairs at the
time, so he thought that if he could get free, then he could race down the
steps and probably get out of the house before anyone else could stop
him.  Not knowing what else to do, he swung one of his arms down
across the piece of his shirt the guy was holding and this caused the man
to lose his grip on it.  The problem was, it also caused Bryce to lose his
balance, and so the next thing that happened was that he began to fall
toward the stairs... and then down them.

His body looked as if it were a rag doll, as it rolled from step to step.
His arms and legs were flopping limply about, as his body somersaulted
down the entire flight of steps.  When his small body hit the landing at
the bottom, Bryce landed very hard and his head cracked against the
hard floor.  The sound everyone heard when this happened was a
sickening dull 'thud,' and his battered and bruised body was lying,
motionless, in a very contorted heap.

I happened to arrive home and burst through the door just as that was
happening, so I saw him tumble down the stairs.  I couldn't believe what
I had witnessed, but now he was lying sprawled out on the floor of the
foyer, without showing any signs of movement.  His slender frame was
limp and unmoving, so I flew to his side to see if he was still alive and
what I could do to help.  Before I could reach him though, I was stopped
by two police officers.  Although I insisted that I needed to help Bryce,
because he was injured, they continued to prevent me from doing so.

"Let me go!  I need to help him," I kept insisting.

"The other officers will see to the boy," one of the cops advised me,
"and you'd be better off trying to help yourself, at this point."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I demanded.

"You've been hiding a runaway minor and aiding and abetting his
efforts, so you're in a major legal mess right now," he told me.  "You'd
be best to consider what you're going to do about that."

"The hell with that shit right now!" I challenged.  "We have to get him
to the hospital.  Has anyone called 911 or radioed in for help?"

"We've radioed for an ambulance and one is on the way," he said,
drolly.

"How the hell did this happen?" I wanted to know.

One of the officers gave me an abbreviated version of what had taken
place and pointed out the DSS man who had grabbed Bryce's shirt
before he fell.  The DSS man heard the cop telling me this, so I guess
that's why he walked forward to confront me.

"Do you realize this is all your fault?" he asked me.

"My fault?  How the hell do you figure this is my fault?" I shot back.

"Well, if you'd turned him over to us when you first ran across him,
nothing like this would have ever happened," he insisted.

"No, he'd probably be dead by now," I spat back, defying his
accusation.  "When he was under your care, he was taken advantage of,
physically abused and sexually molested."

"I don't believe a word of that and your allegations are totally
unfounded," he insisted.

"Are they?  I have detailed notes about what Bryce endured during his
time in foster care," I informed him, "and I've documented neglect,
physical beatings and his being forced into prostituting himself by one
of his so-called foster parents."

"That's nonsense!" the man shouted back.

"It's not nonsense and we have statements and other materials to prove
it, but this isn't the time or the place to discuss that," I stated, while
looking toward Bryce.  "We have to get the boy medical attention.
Where the hell is the ambulance?"

About that time we heard the rescue squad's siren in the distance, so I
knew they were getting close.  Just before the ambulance crew rushed in
to attend to Bryce, my lawyer walked past the broken door and came
inside.  He had the officers release me, so we could move to the side and
talk, and he advised me about what to do and how to act from this point
on.  However, I was trying to see what was they were doing for Bryce
and trying to listen to the EMTs, instead of my attorney.  It's also when
I heard the DSS guy tell them to take Bryce to County Hospital.

"No way!" I screamed out.  "He's not going to that overworked slum
hospital.  You have him taken to St. Luke's Hospital instead."

"The county won't pay for that," the DSS rep told me.  "He will get just
as good care at County."

"Like hell," I objected.  "I wouldn't even go there for minor treatment,
let alone anything this serious.  You have him taken to St. Luke's and
I'll cover the bill."

"We can't allow that," he replied.

"Listen, you bureaucratic mental midget.  Not only will you do it, but
you'll also be happy to do so," I informed him.  "I'm telling you right
now, if anything happens to that kid, my lawyer and my friend, who
holds all of the information about how Bryce has been handled by DSS
and their representatives, will turn all the information over to the press.

"Mark my words," I continued, "because it won't be the local paper
either.  We will start with the New York Times, but we'll also give it to
Time and Newsweek, along with the major television networks.  By the
time the dust settles from that intense exposure, not only won't you and
your superiors be able to get a job in THIS state, but you'll also be
lucky if you can secure a job in your field in ANY state.  Not only that,
but I'll personally sue you, the department and the State for damages,
not only to my home, but also for Bryce's injuries, including punitive
damages."

"You're bluffing," he replied.

"Try me, asshole.  I didn't build my business from the ground up and
make my fortune by bluffing or by not being able to follow through on
my threats," I informed him.  "It you think it's a bluff, call me on it, but
you'll be the one to suffer the consequences from the fallout, not me."

The guy stood and glared at me for several seconds and everyone in the
room could tell he hated the fact that I was interfering with his official
duties, plus he probably hated me on a more personal level as well, but I
didn't want to give in.  He also was fairly certain I had him, and his
department, by the 'nads, so after a slight, uneasy delay, he turned to
the ambulance crew and spoke.

"Take him to St. Luke's then, but make sure you tell them the bill goes
in this guy's name and not the county's," he informed them.  "I'll clear
it later with my superiors."

After making that announcement and having had to back down in front
of everyone else that was here, the guy was totally red-faced.  It could
have been from anger or embarrassment, but he spun around and took
off, although he stopped long enough to ask one of the policemen to
drive him back to his office, since he had ridden with them from the
courthouse.  One of the other officers then announced that I was under
arrest and began to read me my rights.  That's when my attorney
stepped in to assist me.  He told them that I'd cooperate fully, once the
boy was out of danger, and he'd guarantee that I'd turn myself in, after
I was certain the boy was being treated.

The officer wasn't sure what to do at this point, so he radioed the
station and discussed it with his Sgt.   I guess his superior must have
authorized our plan, but only if I agreed to come to the station at my
earliest possible convenience to be fingerprinted and booked.  Again, my
lawyer vouched for me and promised he would see to it that I would do
this.  Once that was settled, they allowed my lawyer to drive me in his
car to the hospital, as we followed the rescue vehicle.  Finally, we were
on our way to St. Luke's, so we could get Bryce the treatment he
needed.

By the time they were able to stabilize Bryce in the emergency room, I
was a nervous wreck.  I hadn't been allowed to be in with him, since I
wasn't related, even though I was paying the damn bill.  Once he was
stabilized, they moved him to the juvenile intensive care ward, but it
had already been over two hours since the accident.  I pleaded to be able
to go in and sit with him, but the hospital staff wasn't about to allow me
to do that, since I wasn't a relative.  Finally, I got the DSS caseworker
on the phone and talked him in to authorizing the hospital to allow me
to do this, since DSS was technically Bryce's legal guardians.  After I
also explained to them that I was also paying all of the bills, so if they
didn't want to have to wait for their money they'd allow this, so
eventually they relented and I was shown in.

I was heartsick and even became slightly physically ill when I saw him.
His face was bruised and swollen, his body was discolored and covered
with scrapes, his left arm and right leg were in casts, and he was still
unconscious.  There seemed to be all kinds of tubes running into him
and he was also hooked up to several monitors.  I walked over to his
right side, kissed him on the forehead and then I took his right hand
and held it between my own hands, before I sat in the chair that was
located beside the bed.

I suddenly felt as if I was going to vomit, so I rushed into the bathroom
in the room.  I ended up retching and expelling some bile and other
contents from my stomach, and then I rinsed out my mouth and
splashed water on my face, before I went back to his bedside.  As I sat
down beside him again, tears filled my eyes and rolled down my cheeks,
before gently dropping onto our cupped hands and the bedding.  He
looked so frail and helpless, not like the boy who had taken care of
himself for so long, and I bowed my head to pray that he would come
through this without permanent harm.

I never thought at the time about my lawyer being there with us and
watching my every move, but he was and he noticed how much Bryce
meant to me.  After twenty or thirty minutes, he came over to me,
placed his hand on my shoulder and spoke.

"I can see how much you care for this boy, Kyle, just like a father
watching over his child," he began.  "Although I knew you wanted him
to stay with you, I didn't realize at the time how deeply you cared for
the boy or how attached you had become.  I promise that I will do
everything within my power to keep you two together, as a family unit.

"I also know how much you want to continue to stay here with him," he
continued, "but I promised the police we'd stop by the station, so you
could be fingerprinted and booked.  I'm pretty sure I'll be able to get
you released on your own recognizance, but we'd better leave and get
this over with.  Then you'll be able to come back here and stay with the
boy for as long as you want."

"Won't they lock me up for the night?" I asked.

"No, I'll make sure they take care of this quickly," he assured me.  "I'll
get you arraigned immediately, even if I have to call the judge and
arrange it myself.  Fortunately for you, I spend a few years dealing with
criminal law, before I decided to switch over to dealing with family
court matters."

"Ok, I guess we could go, as long as I'll be able to come back," I
concurred.  "Do you think I might be able to speak to his doctor before I
leave?"

He looked at me and nodded.

"All right, I'll go find him and bring him back to speak with you, so you
may stay with the boy until I get back," he agreed.

I thanked him and he left the room.  I thought I should take advantage
of my time alone with Bryce, so I bent over him, placed my mouth next
to his head and whispered into his ear.

"Bryce, I'm here for you, but I may have to leave for just a little while,"
I told him, my voice choking up with emotion.  "I will be back, but I
want you to keep fighting to get better while I'm gone.  I can't lose you
now, because you mean too much to me and I love you so very much.  I
need you in my life, so I'll make you a promise.  If you'll fight and get
better, then I'll do whatever you want when we get back home.  I'm
sure I know what you want, and yes, I'll even do that.  Just get better
and I'll do anything to make you happy."

At that point, I lost it completely and began to weep.  No, I didn't weep,
I began sobbing and my stomach began to retch, like I needed to vomit
again.  I ran back to the toilet and expelled some more bile into the
commode, and then I rinsed out my mouth again and wiped it off.  It
took a few more seconds for me to get my stomach under control again,
and then I walked back to his room and over to his bed again.

When I got there, I placed my head on his shoulder, because I wanted to
show him how much I truly cared about him.  I also wanted to touch
him in a loving way, but this was the best I could do with the possibility
of others entering the room at any second.  We were like that when the
door to the room opened and the doctor and my attorney entered.

"You must be the boy's father," he stated, extending his hand to me in
the process.

"Not yet, but I hope to be," I responded, which caused the doctor to give
me a confused look.

"I'm fighting with DSS to become his guardian," I offered, to end his
confusion.

"And he's also paying the bills and was authorized by DSS to see to the
boy's medical treatment and be in here with him?" my lawyer added, to
bolster my claim.

"Well, then what may I do to help?" the doctor asked.

"Can you tell me about his condition?" I followed.

"Yes, of course," he replied.  "The boy suffered multiple scrapes and
bruises, but he also sustained two fractures.  He also has a concussion
and some swelling around his brain, which is the reason why he hasn't
regained consciousness yet.  We've relieved some of the pressure, but
we're also trying to get the intra-cranial swelling under control, so he'll
most likely remain in critical condition until that happens."

"Will he be all right?" I asked next, seeking reassurance.

"That depends on many things," the doctor stated.  "I can't give you
any guarantees, but I will do my best to help him pull through."

"Well, don't spare any expense," I ordered.  "I want you to bring in the
finest specialists, as well as whomever or whatever else you think is
appropriate.  I don't want you to leave any option unexplored.  Do I
make myself clear?"

"Extremely clear, sir," he responded.

"Thank you.  I have to leave for a while, but I shall return," I informed
him.  "I want you to do whatever is necessary to make him better and I
will cover any and all expenses, so you don't have to worry about that.
Do you have any questions?"

"None, sir, and I'll do my absolute best," he promised.

I then left the hospital with my lawyer and he drove me over to the
police station, where they took me into a special area to be fingerprinted
and booked.  It was a humiliating experience.  To begin with, one of the
cops put this black ink on a pad with a roller, put my fingers in it one at
a time and then they transferred the prints onto a special card.  After
the officer did each finger individually, he did them as a group, before
he moved on to the other hand.

Once the fingerprinting process was completed, I had to have the typical
mug shots taken, both the front and side poses, and then I had to sign
some paperwork, but not before my lawyer went over each of them first.
After that process was completed, I was allowed to sit in a private room
with my attorney, while we waited for the arraignment.

It seemed as if it took an eternity before anything else happened, but we
were finally taken before the judge, where I pleaded 'not guilty.'  After
hearing a motion from my attorney, I was given ROR (released own
recognizance), which meant I didn't have to put up any bail or spend
the night in jail.  Once that process was finished, my lawyer drove me
home, so I could pick up my own car and then return to the hospital.  I
thanked him for all of his help and then went inside the house and
grabbed a couple of items, before I drove back to sit with Bryce.

It didn't seem as if his condition had improved any while I was away, so
I moved the basic, reclining-type chair into position beside his bed and
made myself comfortable, as I held his hand and stroked his hair.  I
talked to him the entire time I was doing this and tried to encourage
him to come back to me.  I also reaffirmed the promise I had made to
him earlier, since I hoped that might make him fight harder and help to
speed up the recovery process.  No matter what it took, I would do
anything to urge him to get better.

After a couple of hours of sitting with him like this, I got up and took a
short walk to stretch my stiff muscles and buy a cup of coffee from one
of the vending machines.  I wasn't gone for very long, but when I
returned the doctor and nurses were working on Bryce again.  I had no
idea what had happened or what they were doing, but I was very scared
as I stood in the doorway and watched them.  I tried to inquire about
what was happening, but I was only told that the swelling in his brain
had increased and was threatening his life.  I almost collapsed after
hearing that information, but I stayed upright, although I did manage
to spill some of my coffee when my knees buckled.  I felt this sinking
feeling in the pit of my stomach, because I suddenly had these horrific
visions that he wasn't going to get better.  My knees went weak once
more and I'm not sure how I managed to remain standing, but I did.
After that happened, one of the nurses asked me to go to the waiting
room and stay there until Bryce's condition had been stabilized.

I don't remember walking there or even entering the room, but I do
remember sitting in a chair, closing my eyes and praying like I've never
prayed before.  I'm not an overly religious person and I'm not a fan of
organized religion, because I think much of it is corrupt and self-
serving, but I do believe in God and his power.  Therefore, I beseeched
him to intercede on Bryce's behalf and bring him back to health.  I must
have prayed the entire time I was sitting in the waiting room, because I
don't remember doing anything else during that time.  I have absolutely
no idea how long I was in there, but I do know I was still praying when
a nurse came in to get me later.

"Mr. Loomis," she paged, as she startled me from my thoughts, "the
boy's condition has stabilized and you may go back to his room."

I thanked her and returned to see Bryce, only to find two doctors
standing beside him.  There was the doctor I had spoken to earlier, as
well as another, but now Bryce's head was now wrapped in a white,
gauze bandage.

"What happened?" I asked, gravely concerned.

"Hi, I'm Dr. Johnston, the neurosurgeon," the other doctor announced.
"The monitors signaled a problem with pressure building on the boy's
brain, so we had to rush him into emergency surgery.  It was a fairly
standard procedure to drain the fluids that were building around his
brain, so we were able to alleviate the pressure that was building inside
his cranium.  He seems to be doing better now, but he's still not out of
the woods yet."

"Yes, and it was fortunate that you had me bring in a specialist," the
first doctor commented.  "I'm not sure what would have happened to
the boy if the neurosurgeon hadn't been here when this happened.  I'm
not sure that I'd have known what to do, but now we both agree the
next twenty-four hours will be critical."

"I just want to thank both of you, but I also need to ask a favor<" I
mentioned.  "DSS wanted to take Bryce to County Hospital to be
treated, but I felt his injuries were too severe for them to handle his
situation adequately.  Do you think the staff at County could have
treated him as successfully?"

"Only if they'd have brought in a neurosurgeon," Bryce's primary
physician told me, "and I don't believe they have one on staff there."

"Would you be willing to state that in a deposition, if I ask my attorney
to depose you?" I asked them.  "DSS has made so many decisions and
done so many things to endanger this poor kid, and I believe this would
have just been another of those instances, since he was injured when
they went to pick him up."

At first, they were hesitant to do anything of that nature, but then I
went on to explain a few of the things Bryce had been through, while
under DSS supervision.  I told them all about the foster homes he had
been placed in and what they had done to him there, but I also advised
them about how Bryce had sustained these injuries.  Eventually, both
doctors agreed to provide me with their statements.  I intended to use
these to Bryce's and my benefit in the future.

Once they left the room, I sat with Bryce, held his hand and talked to
him.  I told him how much I needed him in my life and how he had to
fight his way back to health.  As it grew late, I eased that reclining chair
into a nearly horizontal position, so I could use it as a bed of sorts,
because that's where I planned to stay for the night.  Before I actually
fell asleep, one of the nurses brought me a pillow and a blanket, and
then I settled in for the long haul.

I only slept in small increments at a time, because I was constantly
waking up to check on Bryce.  I wanted to make sure he was breathing,
wasn't in any pain or see if he had awakened.  One of the nurses told me
I should just go home and get some rest, because they would watch over
him while he was there, and then I could come back in the morning.
That way, I would still be able to spend time with him, but without
being tired, because they didn't want me to end up becoming ill due to
lack of sleep.  I thanked her for her concern, but explained that I knew I
wouldn't be able to sleep any better at home either.  I needed to be with
him and I needed HIM to know I was here for him.

When I was able to fall asleep, my mind continually replayed what I had
seen happen and what I knew about Bryce's condition.  My mind also
went over everything I'd been told about what had happened to him
over the past few years and then I'd wake up, just so I could stare at
him and make sure he was all right.  I also prayed that he would
suddenly open his eyes and speak to me, but that never happened.  How
could a boy this young have survived all of those terrible things and not
have become a total social misfit or psychopath in the process?  I finally
concluded it was because he was emotionally strong, adaptable and
resilient.  Those were the same qualities I knew he'd also need now, if he
were going to pull through this, so I hoped my presence and words of
encouragement would be enough to spur him on.

I spent most of the next day beside his bed, either talking to him or
praying much of the time.  I also forced myself to take a short break, so
I could call my attorney and tell him what the doctors had offered to do,
or more appropriately, what I had talked them into doing.  Then, I told
him my ideas for how we could use that information.  He agreed with
my suggestions and told me it was worth a try, before promising he'd
get back to me when he learned more about what DSS was planning
next.  I thanked him and offered one final suggestion, something I just
thought of, and then we discussed that fully too.  He also told me he'd
stop by after work to see Bryce and he'd let me know at that time if he'd
been able to accomplish anything in the interim.  After saying goodbye
to him, I noted that even though I hadn't known this man for very long,
he had already become more than just my lawyer.  I think I would even
be willing to call him a friend.

Except for my lawyer and my secretary stopping by, and the constant
flow of nurses and the two doctors checking in on Bryce, the day was
quite uneventful.  My secretary suggested that I desperately needed to
shave and a shower, so she suggested I go home and do that while she
sat with Bryce.  I thanked her for her thoughtfulness and told her she
was more than just an employee.  I also told her I was happy to include
her as another of my friends, because it's times like these when you
discover who your true friends really are.

That night, I slept by Bryce's side again, in the hospital's reclining
chair, and it passed much the same as the night before.  The only
difference was that this time I was able to sleep for slightly longer
periods after I dozed off.  I still checked on Bryce whenever I awoke,
but there never seemed to be any change in his condition.

When I got up the next morning, Bryce still seemed to be about the
same, but I wished him a good morning anyway and then advised him it
was time to wake up, before adding that I loved him.  After that, I
reminded him that if he would come back to me, then I'd do anything
he asked.  After confirming that, I merely sat there and watched him
breathe.  A little while later, the nurse came in and suggested that I go
get something to eat, and we were discussing my need for nourishment
when we heard a very weak voice.

"Uncle Kyle?" it asked.

The nurse and I both turned and looked at his bed.  We were amazed to
see that Bryce's eyes were open, although only about halfway, and she
quickly checked his vital signs, before going out to have his doctor
paged.  I, on the other hand, talked to Bryce while she was gone and my
heart was leaping for joy.

"Oh little man, I'm so happy to hear your voice again," I told him.
"How do you feel?"

"Like I was beat up by a whole bunch of guys and then run over by a
truck," he wheezed.

I could tell he was in pain and it wasn't easy for him to talk, but I was so
excited that he was conscious again.  I also couldn't stop myself from
trying to continue the conversation.

"I'm not surprised," I agreed.  "You've had us very worried for a
while."

I didn't expect him to answer, but he did.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that," he apologized, although he had
done nothing wrong.

"I know you didn't, but I'm very glad you're doing a little better now,"
I told him.

He looked over at me and I could tell he was studying my face.

"Did you really mean what you said to me?" he asked next.

I wasn't totally sure if he was referring to my recent statements or
something else, because I wasn't convinced he'd heard the things I told
him while he was unconscious.  He'd been out of it for so long and I'd
told him so many things that I wasn't clear as to which statement he was
alluding to.

"Which thing are you talking about?" I asked.

"You know, that you'd do whatever I wanted if I got better," he replied,
while trying to gauge my reaction.

"You really heard me say that, did you?" I asked.  "I wasn't sure if you
had, but I'm glad that you did."

"I did, so did you mean it?" he pressed.

I looked at him and noticed the apprehensive look on his face.  I knew
he was worried I only said it to urge him to get well again.

"Bryce, I meant every word I said to you," I assured him.

I thought I was going to have to hold him down, because he looked as if
he was about to leap out of his bed and into my arms.  I wouldn't have
even been surprised if he asked me to prove it and do it right then and
there.

"Take it easy, little man," I advised him.  "We don't have to rush
anything and I want to wait until you're better and get you back home
with me first, but I meant what I said.  Are you ok with that?"

"Does that mean I can stay with you then?" he wanted to know.

"Well, that's not definite yet, but we're still working on it," I informed
him, and I saw him grimace because of my answer.

"So do you think I'll be able to live with you or not?" he continued.  He
wasn't about to let up with this line of questioning.

"My lawyer and I definitely haven't given up on that possibility, so I
don't want you to give up on it either," I suggested.

"I won't, cuz I want that more than anything...well, there is something
else I want too," he advised me, with a big smirk.  "I want you to keep
the promise you made."

"I will, but after you've recovered," I confirmed.

"Then I'll get better really fast," he replied.

We both chuckled over that, just as Bryce's doctor walked in.

"Well, I heard he was better, but I didn't expect to find this," the doctor
confessed.  "It's even better than I hoped for.  How are you feeling,
young man?"

Bryce told him the same thing he'd told me, and then the doctor started
to check him over.  He asked me to leave for a second, but Bryce
objected, telling the doctor he wanted me to stay for everything.  The
doctor studied Bryce's face and then he looked at me, but finally he
smiled.

"I don't see any problem with that," he agreed.  "Besides, I think his
being here is what helped you to get better.  I can see you two really care
for each other and you seem even closer than most fathers and sons I
know."

"I love Uncle Kyle," Bryce told him unashamedly, "and he loves me too.
He has been nicer to me and treated me better than anyone else ever
has.  Much better than any of the foster homes I got placed in."

The doctor looked impressed by his unsolicited endorsement.

"That's wonderful, and I understand that's how you were injured," the
doctor mentioned," when DSS came to take you away from him.  Is that
true?"

"Yeah.  I thought if I could get away then I could hide out until they
gave up looking for me," Bryce confessed.  "The thing was, that guy
grabbed a hold of my shirt and when I struggled to get away... well, all
I remember is falling down the stairs."

"Well, I can see how devoted you two are to each other, so I'll do
whatever I can to help to make sure you are able to stay together," the
doctor promised Bryce.

"You will?  Really?  Oh, thank you!" Bryce gushed.

Bryce was almost bouncing on his bed after he'd heard this.

"Easy, young fellow," the doctor warned him.  "You've still got some
healing to do first, so I don't want you to get too excited and then start
to regress.  You must remain calm and follow orders for now, and then
we'll do all we can to get you two back together.  Does that sound
agreeable to you?"

"It sure does," Bryce concurred, with a huge grin plastered across his
face.

"I thought it might meet with your approval," the doctor stated, with a
knowing smirk.

The doctor finished giving Bryce a complete check-up and made sure to
investigate nearly every inch of him.  After he explained everything to
us, he agreed that Bryce was doing much better than he would have
expected, but the doctor also confirmed that Bryce would have to stay in
the hospital longer, so they could continue to monitor his progress.
When the doctor left the room, Bryce and I continued our previous
conversation.

The two of us spent the rest of the day talking about what had
happened, what we wanted to do as soon as he was out of the hospital
and how I was going to convince DSS to let him stay with me.  I didn't
tell him everything, just enough to keep him calm and hopeful.  It didn't
hurt when my lawyer stopped by later to tell us that he was making
progress with DSS, especially with their willingness to consider allowing
Bryce stay with me.  He even hinted that we might possibly even be able
to convince them to let me adopt him.  I knew this was the type of news
that would help Bryce get better fast, so I was pleased that the lawyer
had brought it up.  He even told us that we might know their decision by
the time Bryce was released from the hospital, which would be perfect,
but I didn't want Bryce to get his hopes up too soon, just in case.

Bryce's mood was light and happy for the rest of the evening and we
even watched some television together.  After that, I spent another night
sleeping beside him in the room.  Bryce had tried his best to talk me into
sleeping in the bed with him, but I told him that would look bad and
might work against us with DSS, so he finally relented and agreed to let
me sleep in the chair beside his bed, but only if I held his hand all night.
I promised I would and then kissed him goodnight, but only on the
forehead, and then we both fell asleep.  I think it was also the most sleep
I'd had had since he was admitted to the hospital.

The neurosurgeon came in to see Bryce the following day and he seemed
surprised to note how well Bryce was doing too.

"You gave us quite a scare, young man," he mentioned, "but I'm glad to
see how much you've improved.  How are you feeling today?"

"Good enough to go home with Uncle Kyle," Bryce answered, while
flashing the doctor a grin.

"Well, I think we'd better keep you here for observation for say another
day or two," the doctor informed him, "and then maybe we'll let you go
home with your Uncle then."

"I sure hope so!" Bryce stated.

"Let's have another look at you now," he said next, as he moved over to
give Bryce the once over.

The doctor asked me to leave, so he could remove the bandages and
check out his handiwork, but Bryce began to protest.  His pleas fell on
deaf ears this time, so I went out into the hallway to wait until the
doctor had finished.  It was several minutes later when the door opened
and the neurosurgeon approached me, to let me know what he thought.

"He seems to be doing fine," he began, "although I am a bit astounded
by his progress.  The only answer I have for his miraculous recovery is
that he's responding to all the love and attention you've given him since
he was admitted.  I wish all parents had the same devotion to their
children that you do for him.  He's a very lucky young man."

"No, I think I'm the lucky one," I stated.  "He's brought a whole new
purpose to my life, so it's not just about making money and being a
success any longer.  I now have someone I care very deeply about, so I
want to protect him and help him become whatever he wants to be.  I
owe him a great deal more than I've given him so far."

"Well, I think you two have been a blessing for each other, so I hope you
are successful in your attempt to gain custody of him," he agreed.  "I'd
be proud to be a character witness for you, if you should ever need one."

"Thank you.  That means a great deal to me, and I know it will to Bryce
too," I confessed.  "Therefore, I will thank you for both of us and
express our appreciation your offer and everything you've done for
him.  I'll let you know later if my lawyer thinks we need you to vouch
for us."

The doctor nodded his acknowledgement and then left to complete his
rounds, so I went back into Bryce's room, so I could sit with him again.

"What did he say, Uncle Kyle?" Bryce asked me, as soon as I entered
the room.

"Well, he told me that he'd better keep you here for at least a month, so
he could put some meat on that scrawny body of yours," I joked, to see
how he'd react.

"Uncle Kyle, he did not.  Quit teasing me," Bryce replied.  "What did he
really say?"

That convinced me that I definitely had my old Bryce back, so I smiled
and told him what he wanted to know.  .

"He said you are doing well and he even offered to be a character
witness for us, if we needed him," I stated.

"Why would me need that?" Bryce wondered.

"It would help if this ended up going to court," I confessed.  "I'm sure
your other doctor would do the same thing, along with our lawyer and
my office assistant.  I'd say we're in pretty good shape then."

"Really?  They'd all do that for us?" Bryce asked.

"He said he would and I'm sure the others would as well.  He seems to
think we deserve one another," I advised him.  "I guess he feels we'd be
a good punishment for each other, for all the bad things we've done so
far."

"Uncle Kyle, you're doing it again," Bryce whined.

I merely gave him a sheepish grin.

"I know and I'm sorry," I apologized.

We both had a good laugh over that and then we moved on to discuss
other matters.