The Long Road
It started with a sore throat, the sniffles, mild fever. And right in the middle of a tour; Keith groused. It hadn't been easy, showing up on stage every night, feeling like he'd been run over by a truck, but he'd done it. He'd also done everything every doctor in every city they'd played told him to. Rest, drink plenty of fluids. Okay, so he wasn't exactly resting every night between 8 and 10 o'clock, but he had no choice. The audience had come to see him and the family perform, and he always gave them their money's worth, no matter how he was feeling.
And right now, he was feeling pretty down and out.
He was trying to catch some sleep in the back of the bus as it carried him, the other Partridges and Reuben to another town, just as it had for the past week and a half. The tour was just getting underway, with 10 more dates in the next two weeks. And Keith was still fighting this interminable bug. For some reason, he couldn't shake this one. None of the others had picked it up; another strange thing about it. It was almost as if he'd been chosen especially to bear this cross. And oh, what it was doing to his throat! He was nearly completely voiceless after every show, unable to talk above a whisper. Then, in the morning, his voice would start slowly returning, only to be terminated again later on that night. It was a vicious circle, and all he could do was live with it. Then there was the loss of energy. He could barely drag himself to the post-concert autographs sessions. There, he was supposed to smile and act like nothing was wrong; act like he'd just stepped out of a teen magazine's pages, smiling and happy and all that crap.
He coughed, and the motion gave him a sharp, sudden pain in the middle of his forehead. Oh, man, what now? This was something new.
Driving the bus, Shirley glanced in the mirror. "Laurie, go check on Keith, will you?"
"Mom, he just coughed," Laurie murmured, looking up from her fashion magazine.
"I know, but it didn't sound right. Please?"
Sighing, Laurie got up, moving past the other dozing passengers to the back of the bus.
Keith was huddled on a back seat, his head on a pillow that rested against the window. A blanket was pulled tight around him as if it were ten degrees, yet he was sweating. Laurie leaned down, touching him over the blanket.
"You okay, Keith?"
He swallowed painfully. "Yeah, sure," he answered, his voice still thick.
"Did you try those capsules that doctor in Portland prescribed?"
"Yeah, and they work about as well as all the other junk I've got in my bag. Laurie, do me a favor and hand me my jacket, will you? It's over there on my guitar case."
"Want me to see if there's another blanket?"
He smiled tiredly. "Sure, if you would. Thanks." He coughed again, wincing and pressing a fist into his forehead.
She shook her head, going all the way into the back of the bus. Sifting through the trunk, she pulled out two blankets. As she took them to him, she also grabbed his jacket from off of the guitar case, as he requested.
"Here you go," she announced.
He sat up, coughing again and pulling a face. She helped him on with the jacket, then tucked all three blankets back over him, starting to worry just a little. He didn't look good at all. She'd never seen him so pale!
"Okay?" she queried.
He nodded, pulling the blankets all the way up under his chin. "I'm just so cold…will you ask Mom to turn up the heat?"
Laurie looked out the window. It was sunny; the middle of May, and they were in Arizona. "Okay, sure. Get some sleep," she assured him.
He closed his eyes and she could see him shivering. She reached out, gently touching his moist forehead.
He didn't react, and she went back to the front of the bus.
"How is he?" Shirley asked.
"Freezing. He's got his jacket on and three blankets. He wanted you to turn up the heat," Laurie answered.
"I guess I'd better…I certainly don't want him to get worse."
"Mom," Laurie took a seat behind her.
"What, honey?"
"He's not looking very good. Maybe we should stop off at another hospital."
Shirley sighed. "We've been to five hospitals, Laurie, and no one knows what to do for him. They all say the same thing, let it run its course."
"Then maybe we should call off the rest of the tour. It can't be good for him to sing with his throat the way it is."
That brought Reuben awake. "What's this? Who wants to call off the tour?" He sounded muddled.
Danny, Chris and Tracy woke from their naps, as well, listening to the adults.
Shirley smiled sadly. "We were just discussing the possibility of having to cancel the rest of the dates, Reuben. Keith's just too sick to keep pushing on, and he's not getting any better."
The manager glanced behind him. "But he's doing okay on stage."
"He always does. It's the before and after I'm worried about."
"Does he want to call it off?"
Shirley and Laurie exchanged looks. "You know Keith. He wouldn't cancel a date if they brought him in on a stretcher, which just may happen if we don't stop now," Shirley answered. "Someone is going to have to make a decision. I don't want him getting worse. He could damage his voice permanently, and then where would we be?"
Reuben looked even more worried than usual. "Maybe if we just played a recording and he lip synched to it…"
"Reuben! You know he'd never go for that. Besides, it's getting so he can barely lift his guitar."
"I know, Shirley, I know…it's just that…wow, ten dates. I suppose I could do something about the ones later on, but the closer ones…we'll be breaching our contract."
"You can't tell me there's not an illness clause in there!"
"Actually," Reuben said, looking sheepish. "I don't think there is."
To everyone's stunned reaction, he held up his hands.
"I know, I know, and I'm sorry. But it was such a good deal, and it only pertains to the next two venues. I didn't know he was going to get sick."
"Oh, wow, Mr. Kincaid, that was really dumb!" Danny had to put his two cents in.
"Reuben, any one of us could have gotten sick! And we still could. We could all get what Keith has, then what?" Shirley was mortified.
"Look, I said I was sorry!"
"Now what are we going to do?" Laurie moaned.
"It's only two dates. I can take care of the rest, I'll just reschedule them for the fall. I'm sure he can make two more shows." Reuben fanned his face, which by now was almost beet red. "It sure is warm in here."
"I have to keep it warm for Keith. Will someone go check on him, please?"
"I will, Mom," Chris volunteered.
"Thank you, honey."
He moved off as Shirley shook her head, glancing in the mirror at their harried manager. "I hope for your sake that Keith feels well enough to perform…"
Reuben tugged at his collar. "Me, too."
"Mom!" Chris's cry brought everyone's attention to the back of the bus.
Shirley looked up in the mirror once again. Something told her all was not right. "What's the matter?"
"Keith won't wake up!"
Her heart racing, Shirley quickly maneuvered the bus into the emergency lane as Rueben and the rest of the kids jumped up.
"What?!" Laurie ran to her brothers, followed by everyone else. Keith was as she'd left him, but sweating hard now, still pale, but now limp in the blankets.
Shirley pushed her way to him, her heart in her throat by now.
Chris's eyes were wide. "I tried to wake him up, but he wouldn't!"
Slipping into the seat next to him, Shirley grabbed Keith's shoulder. "Keith!" She cried, shaking him.
He didn't respond, and she tried it again, shaking him harder. Still he didn't move. Panicking, she pulled him to her, feeling his neck for a pulse.
"Mom!" Laurie felt sick.
"He's breathing, and there's a pulse. Oh, Reuben, let's get him to a hospital!" Shirley cried, holding Keith to her.
Reuben ran to the front of the bus, throwing it in gear and screeching back out onto road.
"What's the matter with him, Mom?" Chris and the others were in tears, now.
"I don't know, honey." She looked up at Laurie. "He's burning up." She could feel his body heat as she cuddled him. "See if there's any water around that we could cool him down with."
Numbly, Laurie scrambled to obey, as Shirley spoke to her son, even though she knew he couldn't hear her.
"Keith, honey, we're going to the hospital right now. Please wake up, sweetheart...I need to see that you're all right!"
He remained limp in her hold, and she fought tears as she let him rest against her, petting his head. Laurie was right; his skin was translucent and whiter than white. And for all she knew, he was dying on her right then and there.
Tracy began to cry. "He's dead, Keith's dead!"
"No, he isn't, Tracy. He's just resting. Danny, take the kids up front, please." Shirley ordered, looking up. "Laurie!"
"I found some ice water in the cooler," Laurie said, hurrying over to them with a wet cloth.
Shirley took it from her, pressing it to Keith's forehead.
Laurie sat in the seat in front of them. "Maybe his throat's swollen or something."
"It could be." Shirley put her hand on his throat, fingering it. "I can't tell. Oh, please, Keith, wake up…" She whispered the last part, her eyes brimming with tears.
He remained silent and Shirley kept cooling him down. Laurie gulped, trying not to cry herself.
"I'll…go see how Reuben's doing."
She got up, moving away as Shirley broke down, clinging to him as he lay against her like a rag doll.
They ended up at Flagstaff Memorial Hospital.
The bus was barely in park before Laurie dashed out the doors and into the building, followed by the rest of the kids. Reuben went to the back of the bus and picked Keith up. He hurried down the aisle with him dangling limply in his arms.
Shirley joined them outside as Laurie led two orderlies with a stretcher to meet them. Reuben eased Keith down onto the gurney, and the men rushed the stretcher inside.
They ran Keith's nearly lifeless form through the halls of the hospital's emergency room, with Shirley right on their heels. Reuben and Laurie followed with the kids, and the five of them watched as the double doors leading to the treatment room closed behind Shirley. Shaking, everyone just stood there, dumbfounded.
Inside a curtained treatment room, a doctor was looking Keith over, asking Shirley a million questions. A nurse stood by as the doctor checked Keith's pulse, blood pressure, temperature, etc.
"How long has he been unconscious?"
"I'm not exactly sure, perhaps half an hour."
"Is he allergic to any medicine?" The doctor shined a light into Keith's throat, then forced his eyelids open with his thumb, waving the light across the pupils.
"No."
"Is he taking any medication?"
"Just these capsules the doctor in Portland prescribed," Shirley answered, producing them from her pocket. "But I don't think he took any recently."
The doctor looked the bottle over. "Standard antibiotics, shouldn't be the problem."
Shirley looked worried as the doctor examined her still-unconscious son. He turned to his nurse. "I want a full blood gas on him, and let's get him on some glucose."
"Yes, doctor," the nurse nodded, preparing to draw Keith's blood.
"What could it be?" Shirley asked.
"I'm not sure. The blood gas will tell us more. Now, you say he's had a sore throat and fever?" The doctor began writing in a chart.
"Yes…I tried to get him to rest, but as usual, he pushed himself. He wouldn't even have a voice at the end of the night. It just seemed worse today, he was so cold and all, and his voice was so raspy…" Shirley prattled tearfully. "And then he got this cough…"
The doctor nodded and continued to write. "Okay, Mrs. Partridge, we'll see what we can do. You may wait outside with your family, and I will let you know what I find."
"Thank you." Numbly, Shirley took one last look at Keith as the nurse hooked an I.V. to his arm. Still dazed, she went back out into the waiting room.
Shirley didn't see the doctor again until a good hour later, when he came back out of the double doors, looking perplexed and very serious.
She, Reuben and the kids met him halfway up the hall. "Where's Keith, what's happening?"
"I'm admitting your son, Mrs. Partridge. He's still unconscious and I have no idea why. His temperature is 102, and that could be part of it. His throat's a bit swollen, and that, too, could be the reason. I need to run some tests. I'm fairly certain that it's a virus of some sort, but I need to pinpoint the strain so we can begin treating it."
"Oh, my, that means we have to find a place to stay…Reuben?" Shirley looked at the manager.
"I'll get right on it, Shirley," he nodded, moving off.
"You mentioned his throat. Has it effected his vocal chords? My son is a singer, you understand, and…"
"As far as I can tell, his vocal chords are just fine. Now, I'm placing him in a room on the seventh floor, and you're welcome to go up there, although we're going to be taking him in and out for various tests throughout the day, so you won't see much of him. If we can just get him to wake up, that will be half the battle right there." He smiled. "Don't worry, Mrs. Partridge. We're going to take good care of him."
Shirley was literally alone in Keith's room. Reuben had gotten rooms at a Holiday Inn down the street for them, and had taken the kids there. Keith was being tested, she was told, taken from her once again, so she sat there alone and frightened.
The door opened and she turned to find Reuben there. "That was fast," she said to him. "Get everybody settled in?"
"Sure did. I took a cab here, though. The bus was drawing a few stares. Any word on Keith?"
"Well, they took him out again…I have no idea what they're doing to him; they're not sure themselves, I don't think."
"You look tired. Why don't you lie down on the other bed there and get some rest? I'll keep vigil over Keith."
Shirley smiled. "Thanks, Reuben, but I'll be okay. I just wish they'd tell me something. Anything! They've drawn his blood four times and every time I ask, it's always the same thing: 'We're getting closer!'"
Reuben took a seat in the chair next to her. "I'm sorry it had to come to this, Shirley, but he wasn't really complaining. I would have never let him push himself like this, had I known. I didn't realize how sick he really was."
She sighed. "I know, I don't think anyone knew. He was just trying to be so brave through it all, not wanting us to worry…he just wanted to please the fans, and now…" Her voice trailed off into a sob, and she put her hand to her face.
Reuben reached over, placing his hand on her arm. "He'll be okay, Shirley."
She nodded through the tears, swallowing. "I know…he's been in worse situations, Lord knows that. It's just that…when he wouldn't wake up…I felt such a cold, deep despair when he wouldn't respond…"
Behind them, the door opened and Keith, still flat out on a stretcher, was wheeled in. Reuben and Shirley stood, watching as the orderlies picked up the sheet beneath him and eased him back onto the bed, sheet and all.
The men covered Keith with the blanket, the shorter of the two speaking to Reuben and Shirley. "Dr. Carter will be here in a little bit."
"Thank you," Shirley nodded, reaching down and stroking Keith's head.
They left, and Shirley sat back down, grasping her son's hand.
"He doesn't look as pale, now," she murmured.
"Yeah." To Reuben, he still seemed pretty pasty, but then again, he wasn't a mother.
"Reuben, what's going to happen if he won't be able to sing again?" Shirley's gaze never left her son's face.
That question made the manager visibly nervous. "Don't even think that, Shirley!"
She looked up, her dark eyes shining in the dim light of the room. "We have to face reality. His vocal chords may have been damaged by this…virus or whatever he's got."
Speechless, Reuben just shook his head as the doctor came in, a chart in his hand.
Shirley gripped Keith's hand tighter, praying for good news.
"Well, it looks as if I was right. His blood work shows a virus that's slowly working its way through his system. Unfortunately, at this point, there's not an antibiotic in the world that has any effect on it. The strain is so new and so rare, we can't even identify it from any known medical journal."
"What does that mean for Keith?" Shirley asked.
"It means that he's just going to have to live with it. I expect him to recover from the sore throat and the cough, but they will only be replaced by something new as it moves on," Dr. Carter closed the chart.
"Can you tell us what to expect?"
"There's the problem. I've never seen it before; no one in this hospital has seen it before, so we don't know. It could do any number of things before it finally leaves his body. He could have headaches, loss of muscle coordination, joint pain, severe fatigue, hearing loss, loss of sight, no one knows. It will all be temporary, as the virus strikes and moves on rather quickly, but I'm afraid your son is in for a frightening and tortuous roller coaster ride."
Shirley closed her eyes, feeling sick herself. "Oh, dear…"
"He should still be able to function; go on with his every day life. Perhaps he will only get a mild onset of these things; he may not even have any problems. Only time will tell, Mrs. Partridge. I'm sorry I can't help him. I can give him a prescription for any pain he may incur, but that's about it," Dr. Carter said sadly. "Or, we could keep him here in the hospital indefinitely until all signs of the virus are gone. But that could be months, perhaps even years, and I don't think you want that."
Shirley looked longingly over at her son. "Has the virus affected his vocal chords? Why is he still unconscious?" Her head was full of questions.
"I don't see any serious damage to his throat or his vocal chords. His voice will return to normal in another day or so. As for his unconscious state, I'm sure he'll be coming out of it fairly soon. He was drifting in and out during the last few tests, so it should be anytime soon."
Shirley nodded as Reuben looked over at her. Her skin was as white as Keith's, and he put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You wanna take him home, or what, Shirley?"
"Oh, Reuben, I just don't know…I think that should be up to him whether or not he feels like continuing the tour," she said wearily. "Let's wait and ask him."
to be continued....
It started with a sore throat, the sniffles, mild fever. And right in the middle of a tour; Keith groused. It hadn't been easy, showing up on stage every night, feeling like he'd been run over by a truck, but he'd done it. He'd also done everything every doctor in every city they'd played told him to. Rest, drink plenty of fluids. Okay, so he wasn't exactly resting every night between 8 and 10 o'clock, but he had no choice. The audience had come to see him and the family perform, and he always gave them their money's worth, no matter how he was feeling.
And right now, he was feeling pretty down and out.
He was trying to catch some sleep in the back of the bus as it carried him, the other Partridges and Reuben to another town, just as it had for the past week and a half. The tour was just getting underway, with 10 more dates in the next two weeks. And Keith was still fighting this interminable bug. For some reason, he couldn't shake this one. None of the others had picked it up; another strange thing about it. It was almost as if he'd been chosen especially to bear this cross. And oh, what it was doing to his throat! He was nearly completely voiceless after every show, unable to talk above a whisper. Then, in the morning, his voice would start slowly returning, only to be terminated again later on that night. It was a vicious circle, and all he could do was live with it. Then there was the loss of energy. He could barely drag himself to the post-concert autographs sessions. There, he was supposed to smile and act like nothing was wrong; act like he'd just stepped out of a teen magazine's pages, smiling and happy and all that crap.
He coughed, and the motion gave him a sharp, sudden pain in the middle of his forehead. Oh, man, what now? This was something new.
Driving the bus, Shirley glanced in the mirror. "Laurie, go check on Keith, will you?"
"Mom, he just coughed," Laurie murmured, looking up from her fashion magazine.
"I know, but it didn't sound right. Please?"
Sighing, Laurie got up, moving past the other dozing passengers to the back of the bus.
Keith was huddled on a back seat, his head on a pillow that rested against the window. A blanket was pulled tight around him as if it were ten degrees, yet he was sweating. Laurie leaned down, touching him over the blanket.
"You okay, Keith?"
He swallowed painfully. "Yeah, sure," he answered, his voice still thick.
"Did you try those capsules that doctor in Portland prescribed?"
"Yeah, and they work about as well as all the other junk I've got in my bag. Laurie, do me a favor and hand me my jacket, will you? It's over there on my guitar case."
"Want me to see if there's another blanket?"
He smiled tiredly. "Sure, if you would. Thanks." He coughed again, wincing and pressing a fist into his forehead.
She shook her head, going all the way into the back of the bus. Sifting through the trunk, she pulled out two blankets. As she took them to him, she also grabbed his jacket from off of the guitar case, as he requested.
"Here you go," she announced.
He sat up, coughing again and pulling a face. She helped him on with the jacket, then tucked all three blankets back over him, starting to worry just a little. He didn't look good at all. She'd never seen him so pale!
"Okay?" she queried.
He nodded, pulling the blankets all the way up under his chin. "I'm just so cold…will you ask Mom to turn up the heat?"
Laurie looked out the window. It was sunny; the middle of May, and they were in Arizona. "Okay, sure. Get some sleep," she assured him.
He closed his eyes and she could see him shivering. She reached out, gently touching his moist forehead.
He didn't react, and she went back to the front of the bus.
"How is he?" Shirley asked.
"Freezing. He's got his jacket on and three blankets. He wanted you to turn up the heat," Laurie answered.
"I guess I'd better…I certainly don't want him to get worse."
"Mom," Laurie took a seat behind her.
"What, honey?"
"He's not looking very good. Maybe we should stop off at another hospital."
Shirley sighed. "We've been to five hospitals, Laurie, and no one knows what to do for him. They all say the same thing, let it run its course."
"Then maybe we should call off the rest of the tour. It can't be good for him to sing with his throat the way it is."
That brought Reuben awake. "What's this? Who wants to call off the tour?" He sounded muddled.
Danny, Chris and Tracy woke from their naps, as well, listening to the adults.
Shirley smiled sadly. "We were just discussing the possibility of having to cancel the rest of the dates, Reuben. Keith's just too sick to keep pushing on, and he's not getting any better."
The manager glanced behind him. "But he's doing okay on stage."
"He always does. It's the before and after I'm worried about."
"Does he want to call it off?"
Shirley and Laurie exchanged looks. "You know Keith. He wouldn't cancel a date if they brought him in on a stretcher, which just may happen if we don't stop now," Shirley answered. "Someone is going to have to make a decision. I don't want him getting worse. He could damage his voice permanently, and then where would we be?"
Reuben looked even more worried than usual. "Maybe if we just played a recording and he lip synched to it…"
"Reuben! You know he'd never go for that. Besides, it's getting so he can barely lift his guitar."
"I know, Shirley, I know…it's just that…wow, ten dates. I suppose I could do something about the ones later on, but the closer ones…we'll be breaching our contract."
"You can't tell me there's not an illness clause in there!"
"Actually," Reuben said, looking sheepish. "I don't think there is."
To everyone's stunned reaction, he held up his hands.
"I know, I know, and I'm sorry. But it was such a good deal, and it only pertains to the next two venues. I didn't know he was going to get sick."
"Oh, wow, Mr. Kincaid, that was really dumb!" Danny had to put his two cents in.
"Reuben, any one of us could have gotten sick! And we still could. We could all get what Keith has, then what?" Shirley was mortified.
"Look, I said I was sorry!"
"Now what are we going to do?" Laurie moaned.
"It's only two dates. I can take care of the rest, I'll just reschedule them for the fall. I'm sure he can make two more shows." Reuben fanned his face, which by now was almost beet red. "It sure is warm in here."
"I have to keep it warm for Keith. Will someone go check on him, please?"
"I will, Mom," Chris volunteered.
"Thank you, honey."
He moved off as Shirley shook her head, glancing in the mirror at their harried manager. "I hope for your sake that Keith feels well enough to perform…"
Reuben tugged at his collar. "Me, too."
"Mom!" Chris's cry brought everyone's attention to the back of the bus.
Shirley looked up in the mirror once again. Something told her all was not right. "What's the matter?"
"Keith won't wake up!"
Her heart racing, Shirley quickly maneuvered the bus into the emergency lane as Rueben and the rest of the kids jumped up.
"What?!" Laurie ran to her brothers, followed by everyone else. Keith was as she'd left him, but sweating hard now, still pale, but now limp in the blankets.
Shirley pushed her way to him, her heart in her throat by now.
Chris's eyes were wide. "I tried to wake him up, but he wouldn't!"
Slipping into the seat next to him, Shirley grabbed Keith's shoulder. "Keith!" She cried, shaking him.
He didn't respond, and she tried it again, shaking him harder. Still he didn't move. Panicking, she pulled him to her, feeling his neck for a pulse.
"Mom!" Laurie felt sick.
"He's breathing, and there's a pulse. Oh, Reuben, let's get him to a hospital!" Shirley cried, holding Keith to her.
Reuben ran to the front of the bus, throwing it in gear and screeching back out onto road.
"What's the matter with him, Mom?" Chris and the others were in tears, now.
"I don't know, honey." She looked up at Laurie. "He's burning up." She could feel his body heat as she cuddled him. "See if there's any water around that we could cool him down with."
Numbly, Laurie scrambled to obey, as Shirley spoke to her son, even though she knew he couldn't hear her.
"Keith, honey, we're going to the hospital right now. Please wake up, sweetheart...I need to see that you're all right!"
He remained limp in her hold, and she fought tears as she let him rest against her, petting his head. Laurie was right; his skin was translucent and whiter than white. And for all she knew, he was dying on her right then and there.
Tracy began to cry. "He's dead, Keith's dead!"
"No, he isn't, Tracy. He's just resting. Danny, take the kids up front, please." Shirley ordered, looking up. "Laurie!"
"I found some ice water in the cooler," Laurie said, hurrying over to them with a wet cloth.
Shirley took it from her, pressing it to Keith's forehead.
Laurie sat in the seat in front of them. "Maybe his throat's swollen or something."
"It could be." Shirley put her hand on his throat, fingering it. "I can't tell. Oh, please, Keith, wake up…" She whispered the last part, her eyes brimming with tears.
He remained silent and Shirley kept cooling him down. Laurie gulped, trying not to cry herself.
"I'll…go see how Reuben's doing."
She got up, moving away as Shirley broke down, clinging to him as he lay against her like a rag doll.
They ended up at Flagstaff Memorial Hospital.
The bus was barely in park before Laurie dashed out the doors and into the building, followed by the rest of the kids. Reuben went to the back of the bus and picked Keith up. He hurried down the aisle with him dangling limply in his arms.
Shirley joined them outside as Laurie led two orderlies with a stretcher to meet them. Reuben eased Keith down onto the gurney, and the men rushed the stretcher inside.
They ran Keith's nearly lifeless form through the halls of the hospital's emergency room, with Shirley right on their heels. Reuben and Laurie followed with the kids, and the five of them watched as the double doors leading to the treatment room closed behind Shirley. Shaking, everyone just stood there, dumbfounded.
Inside a curtained treatment room, a doctor was looking Keith over, asking Shirley a million questions. A nurse stood by as the doctor checked Keith's pulse, blood pressure, temperature, etc.
"How long has he been unconscious?"
"I'm not exactly sure, perhaps half an hour."
"Is he allergic to any medicine?" The doctor shined a light into Keith's throat, then forced his eyelids open with his thumb, waving the light across the pupils.
"No."
"Is he taking any medication?"
"Just these capsules the doctor in Portland prescribed," Shirley answered, producing them from her pocket. "But I don't think he took any recently."
The doctor looked the bottle over. "Standard antibiotics, shouldn't be the problem."
Shirley looked worried as the doctor examined her still-unconscious son. He turned to his nurse. "I want a full blood gas on him, and let's get him on some glucose."
"Yes, doctor," the nurse nodded, preparing to draw Keith's blood.
"What could it be?" Shirley asked.
"I'm not sure. The blood gas will tell us more. Now, you say he's had a sore throat and fever?" The doctor began writing in a chart.
"Yes…I tried to get him to rest, but as usual, he pushed himself. He wouldn't even have a voice at the end of the night. It just seemed worse today, he was so cold and all, and his voice was so raspy…" Shirley prattled tearfully. "And then he got this cough…"
The doctor nodded and continued to write. "Okay, Mrs. Partridge, we'll see what we can do. You may wait outside with your family, and I will let you know what I find."
"Thank you." Numbly, Shirley took one last look at Keith as the nurse hooked an I.V. to his arm. Still dazed, she went back out into the waiting room.
Shirley didn't see the doctor again until a good hour later, when he came back out of the double doors, looking perplexed and very serious.
She, Reuben and the kids met him halfway up the hall. "Where's Keith, what's happening?"
"I'm admitting your son, Mrs. Partridge. He's still unconscious and I have no idea why. His temperature is 102, and that could be part of it. His throat's a bit swollen, and that, too, could be the reason. I need to run some tests. I'm fairly certain that it's a virus of some sort, but I need to pinpoint the strain so we can begin treating it."
"Oh, my, that means we have to find a place to stay…Reuben?" Shirley looked at the manager.
"I'll get right on it, Shirley," he nodded, moving off.
"You mentioned his throat. Has it effected his vocal chords? My son is a singer, you understand, and…"
"As far as I can tell, his vocal chords are just fine. Now, I'm placing him in a room on the seventh floor, and you're welcome to go up there, although we're going to be taking him in and out for various tests throughout the day, so you won't see much of him. If we can just get him to wake up, that will be half the battle right there." He smiled. "Don't worry, Mrs. Partridge. We're going to take good care of him."
Shirley was literally alone in Keith's room. Reuben had gotten rooms at a Holiday Inn down the street for them, and had taken the kids there. Keith was being tested, she was told, taken from her once again, so she sat there alone and frightened.
The door opened and she turned to find Reuben there. "That was fast," she said to him. "Get everybody settled in?"
"Sure did. I took a cab here, though. The bus was drawing a few stares. Any word on Keith?"
"Well, they took him out again…I have no idea what they're doing to him; they're not sure themselves, I don't think."
"You look tired. Why don't you lie down on the other bed there and get some rest? I'll keep vigil over Keith."
Shirley smiled. "Thanks, Reuben, but I'll be okay. I just wish they'd tell me something. Anything! They've drawn his blood four times and every time I ask, it's always the same thing: 'We're getting closer!'"
Reuben took a seat in the chair next to her. "I'm sorry it had to come to this, Shirley, but he wasn't really complaining. I would have never let him push himself like this, had I known. I didn't realize how sick he really was."
She sighed. "I know, I don't think anyone knew. He was just trying to be so brave through it all, not wanting us to worry…he just wanted to please the fans, and now…" Her voice trailed off into a sob, and she put her hand to her face.
Reuben reached over, placing his hand on her arm. "He'll be okay, Shirley."
She nodded through the tears, swallowing. "I know…he's been in worse situations, Lord knows that. It's just that…when he wouldn't wake up…I felt such a cold, deep despair when he wouldn't respond…"
Behind them, the door opened and Keith, still flat out on a stretcher, was wheeled in. Reuben and Shirley stood, watching as the orderlies picked up the sheet beneath him and eased him back onto the bed, sheet and all.
The men covered Keith with the blanket, the shorter of the two speaking to Reuben and Shirley. "Dr. Carter will be here in a little bit."
"Thank you," Shirley nodded, reaching down and stroking Keith's head.
They left, and Shirley sat back down, grasping her son's hand.
"He doesn't look as pale, now," she murmured.
"Yeah." To Reuben, he still seemed pretty pasty, but then again, he wasn't a mother.
"Reuben, what's going to happen if he won't be able to sing again?" Shirley's gaze never left her son's face.
That question made the manager visibly nervous. "Don't even think that, Shirley!"
She looked up, her dark eyes shining in the dim light of the room. "We have to face reality. His vocal chords may have been damaged by this…virus or whatever he's got."
Speechless, Reuben just shook his head as the doctor came in, a chart in his hand.
Shirley gripped Keith's hand tighter, praying for good news.
"Well, it looks as if I was right. His blood work shows a virus that's slowly working its way through his system. Unfortunately, at this point, there's not an antibiotic in the world that has any effect on it. The strain is so new and so rare, we can't even identify it from any known medical journal."
"What does that mean for Keith?" Shirley asked.
"It means that he's just going to have to live with it. I expect him to recover from the sore throat and the cough, but they will only be replaced by something new as it moves on," Dr. Carter closed the chart.
"Can you tell us what to expect?"
"There's the problem. I've never seen it before; no one in this hospital has seen it before, so we don't know. It could do any number of things before it finally leaves his body. He could have headaches, loss of muscle coordination, joint pain, severe fatigue, hearing loss, loss of sight, no one knows. It will all be temporary, as the virus strikes and moves on rather quickly, but I'm afraid your son is in for a frightening and tortuous roller coaster ride."
Shirley closed her eyes, feeling sick herself. "Oh, dear…"
"He should still be able to function; go on with his every day life. Perhaps he will only get a mild onset of these things; he may not even have any problems. Only time will tell, Mrs. Partridge. I'm sorry I can't help him. I can give him a prescription for any pain he may incur, but that's about it," Dr. Carter said sadly. "Or, we could keep him here in the hospital indefinitely until all signs of the virus are gone. But that could be months, perhaps even years, and I don't think you want that."
Shirley looked longingly over at her son. "Has the virus affected his vocal chords? Why is he still unconscious?" Her head was full of questions.
"I don't see any serious damage to his throat or his vocal chords. His voice will return to normal in another day or so. As for his unconscious state, I'm sure he'll be coming out of it fairly soon. He was drifting in and out during the last few tests, so it should be anytime soon."
Shirley nodded as Reuben looked over at her. Her skin was as white as Keith's, and he put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You wanna take him home, or what, Shirley?"
"Oh, Reuben, I just don't know…I think that should be up to him whether or not he feels like continuing the tour," she said wearily. "Let's wait and ask him."
to be continued....