Chapter 12 #2
Dr. Allen told her they had placed a call to the manufacturer of the cleaning solution to learn more about it, and by that afternoon they were going to start the antibiotic and steroid ointments and would be putting sterile pads on her eyes.
He asked her again if there was any family member or friend she wanted them to call.
“Is there anyone you’d like us to call to come and be with you?
” There had been no next of kin listed on any of the papers in her purse. She had no “kin” to list.
“No, there isn’t.” She was fighting back tears while talking to them.
She thought of Charlie again but there was no way she was going to call him now, in the situation she was in, blind and injured, when he wouldn’t speak to her when she was well.
He had abandoned her, and she had to manage now on her own.
It was a frightening situation, and she had no idea if she would ever see again.
There were chemical burns on her face and hands as well, but they were responding to the ointments on them.
“We feel confident that the skin burns will heal. We had a plastic surgeon look at them last night in the O.R.,” the female voice of Dr. Lovato told her.
“What we don’t know enough about yet are your eyes.
It’s going to take some time to assess the damage.
” She echoed Dr. Allen. “We’re hoping there won’t be long-term consequences from the accident. ”
“I’m an artist,” Devon said in a hoarse voice. She had been saying it since she arrived, as though that fact could save her from blindness.
“Do you have family in the area, or a close friend?” Dr. Lovato asked her. She exchanged a look with Dr. Allen. They were both deeply affected by Devon’s situation. And with grade III alkali burns to her eyes, the outcome was uncertain.
“No, I don’t,” Devon confirmed. She had friends, but no one she was close enough to want to burden them with her being blind in a hospital.
And then she thought of her gallery. She didn’t even know what day it was, or if the gallery was open.
She thought it was two days after Christmas, but she had lost track of time. “What day is it?” she asked them.
“It’s Monday,” Dr. Lovato said gently.
“The gallery is closed on Mondays, but there should be someone there. If you could call the Kingsley Stone Gallery on Madison Avenue, and ask for Edward Stone, and tell him I’m here.
Did they bring my phone with me?” Devon couldn’t remember and felt helpless.
A nurse had brought her a bedpan when she woke up.
She couldn’t even get to the bathroom on her own.
“I’ll check,” Dr. Lovato reassured her. “The paramedics brought your purse. I’ll look for your phone.
” Devon heard a cupboard open, and the young woman came back to Devon quickly, and handed it to Devon.
She couldn’t see to make calls, but at least she could receive them, if the gallery wanted to reach her.
“I’ll call the gallery as soon as I get back to the desk. ”
“What time is it?” Devon asked her in a shaking voice.
She felt suffocated by the darkness she was in.
It felt claustrophobic and made her feel panicked.
Between the darkness and the pain, she felt lost and disoriented, and the anesthesia the night before and the shot for the pain exacerbated the feeling.
“It’s ten-thirty in the morning,” Dr. Allen told her.
“There should be someone at the gallery by now. If you could have Edward Stone call me, I’d appreciate it.”
“I know this is frightening, but you’ll get oriented soon,” Dr. Lovato said.
“We’ll have the nurses check you every ten minutes or so,” and she put a call button in Devon’s hand.
“And we’re hoping that in the coming weeks the effects of the chemicals will start to lessen and your vision will improve.
I know this isn’t easy. We’re going to do everything we can to reverse the effects of the chemicals.
” She had a kind voice, and she held Devon’s hand while she spoke to her, which was comforting.
Devon had never felt so lost and helpless in her life.
She couldn’t feed herself, or get to the bathroom.
She couldn’t see anything. She was in total darkness.
She saw nothing with her eyes open, not even the smallest hint of light.
“I’m going to be back to check you in a little while,” Dr. Lovato said.
“And I’m going to see you twice a day,” Dr. Allen said in a more cheerful tone.
“You have our full attention,” Dr. Lovato said. “I’ll call Edward Stone now, and have him call you. I’ll let you know if I reach him.”
“If he’s not there, someone at the gallery will call him, if you tell them it’s for Devon Darcy and that it’s an emergency.”
“I promise I will,” Dr. Lovato said, and the two doctors left her a minute later, as Devon lay in her bed shaking with the shock and anxiety of what had happened. She was overwhelmed by panic. She lay there trying to stay calm, and Dr. Lovato came back five minutes later.
“They said they were going to call Mr. Stone at home immediately. I told them where you are and what happened.”
“Thank you,” Devon said, and wiped the tears from her cheeks. She couldn’t stop crying, she was so frightened. And her eyes were tearing and swollen.
The cell phone rang five minutes later. Edward Stone was one of the two owners of her gallery. She was closer to Edward than to Tom Kingsley, who was older and more serious. Edward had been her champion at the gallery since she’d been there.
She answered the phone, and her voice sounded like a croak from the anesthetic the night before.
“Devon?” He sounded as panicked as she felt. “What happened?” She told him, and he sounded distraught.
“It was so stupid, I tripped, and the chemical just flew out of the bottle and up into my face. Edward, I can’t see anything. I’m totally blind.” She started sobbing as soon as she said the words. There was no worse possible fate for her. It was like a death sentence.
“I called the trauma unit, and spoke to the chief resident. She said they’re hoping for some rapid improvement in the next two weeks.
” It seemed a long time to wait, to both of them.
“Don’t panic. Is there anyone with you?” He knew how solitary she was and how hard she worked.
She had no family, and only a few friends.
“No,” she said, her voice still shaking.
“I’m going to come down there right away and organize things for you. You need a nurse with you around the clock until your eyes clear.” He was ready to jump in and help.
“Thank you, Edward. I’m sorry to be such a nuisance. It was so stupid of me. I finished the Brandon Yates painting and I wanted to clean my brushes. The painting is gorgeous. It’s a little crazy, but it’s exactly what he wanted. I even got his dog in. He loves it.”
“Brandon Yates is a little crazy. I can’t wait to see it.” It suddenly dawned on her that it might be the last portrait she ever painted, and she felt panicked again.
“They said I would be here for weeks. I don’t even know where I am.”
“You’re at NYU hospital. They have some of the best doctors in the city. And I’m going to check everyone out. Don’t worry. Do you need anything?”
“No. I’m fine. Thank you for taking care of everything.
” Her voice shook as she started to cry again.
He was crying too, but she couldn’t hear it.
He was trying to sound upbeat for her. But he was as panicked as she was.
He had been horrified when he got the call from the gallery, and they told him what had happened.
He was at the hospital half an hour later, and marched into the room in his usual take-charge way.
He was the life force of the gallery, and he treated all their artists like his children, and Devon was his favorite.
He came over to her bed and gently stroked her hair.
There were marks on her face where the chemical had splashed her, and dressings, and her eyes were red and swollen.
He helped her get her bed in a sitting position.
She said she felt dizzy and sick. He felt sick seeing her too, but his voice gave away none of what he felt, nor his terror that she would remain blind from the accident.
Dr. Lovato had acknowledged to him that it was a worst-case possibility.
“I’ve arranged for nurses twenty-four hours a day.
The first shift will be here at noon.” She would have to be fed and bathed and taken to the bathroom.
She was totally helpless without being able to see.
“Did you bring any clothes with you?” he asked her.
She was wearing a hospital gown. She wasn’t sick, she was injured and blind, and she could feel that she had bandages on her hands and arms with topical ointments, since all traces of the chemicals had been removed.
“I didn’t pack,” she said with a small smile. “I was wearing a sweatshirt and jeans, I don’t know where they went.” He opened the narrow cupboard, and saw the jeans folded on the floor of the closet. The sweatshirt was soaked with chemicals and had been discarded.
“They’re here,” he reassured her. “If you give me your keys, I’ll go to the apartment and pack a bag for you.”
“I’m sorry to bother you with that. Why don’t you have one of the girls from the gallery do it?”
“I’m happy to do whatever I can for you,” he said gently, and came to sit down in the chair next to her.
“I have a booking in January we need to cancel,” she told him.
“It’s the only one in January, a Charles Taylor from San Francisco.
We need to send his money back. I don’t know if he paid a deposit or in full.
Just tell him it’s canceled, don’t reschedule, and don’t tell him that I’m injured or here. ”
“Do you know him? I think he paid in full.”