Thor's Child ©
by K Pelle
Chapter 6
After losing his temper and sounding off to Sunny, Tor was feeling lost and somewhat disconnected from his family and friends. Actually, he loved his whole family, but all of them acted so darn cool and calm and collected all the time. It seemed as if that was a family thing, but that day Tor just wasn't calm, cool and collected. Oh sure, there were times when one of his family would lose their temper, but things had to get really bad for that to happen – either that, or else someone had to do something royally stupid and act dumb as a post. Tor felt that was mostly his dad's influence, since it took much more to set off his dad's temper than it did to make his mom react. Tor wasn't being a typical Eklund that day though. He had let his emotions out of their bounds and they were running free – all of his emotions! This was one of those times when he simply couldn't make his feelings clear to others, and frustration built up to the point where he had to get away from everyone.
He just wanted to be alone for a while. He didn't want anything to do with anyone, but he wasn't going to fight about it, he was just walking away - leaving all the crap behind. Let someone else deal with any problems that came up. He wanted to take a break and have no real responsibilities for a few hours. All he wanted to do was get a handle on his own personal troubles right then and he was convinced the troubles and questions he was facing weren't normal.
Okay, so perhaps he was being a kid trying to run away from his problems, but he'd been acting grown up and responsible all darn summer. It's a wonder something hadn't set him off before. Now though, every emotion he had been trying to hide from the world came boiling to the surface. He'd been fighting off homesickness for the first month he was on the farm. Then he'd been betrayed and lied about by the first kid he'd befriended, and after that he was almost afraid to talk to anyone, which caused him to be even more lonely and homesick. Besides being forced to be on his own for so long, he was annoyed and a little angry about having to work all summer long. It wasn't anyone's fault, and he knew his dad had only expected him to be alone for a week. He knew his father was proud of what he'd done when he'd had responsibility forced on him, but that didn't help much. It was still more than he'd wanted to do and that bothered him. He knew he wasn't lazy, but he hadn't had a real break all summer long and that did annoy him. He didn't think he was being selfish for wanting to take some time off, to just be a kid for a while. He might have been able to have some fun times if things had worked out as they were planned, only Mrs Armstrong had fallen and hurt herself and after that, he was stuck. He'd had to try his best to do what was needed. Suddenly there was no possible way for him to take a break - he'd had to stay on the farm and be responsible - his family had been depending on him.
Only to make things worse he'd suddenly begun to be able to do things that no one should be able to do and that scared him – no, to be honest, it terrified him. He knew there were people who would do their best to destroy him and his family, just because of the things he could do. He had been so afraid of those abilities that he had done all he possibly could to hide or at least disguise them. He'd even gone so far as to decide not to play the one game in the world he truly loved, because while playing that game he might expose one of his talents.
Then the most trusted friend he had in the world had betrayed him, exposed his new abilities to the world. Sure he had other negative emotional crap to deal with - anger, hurt, fear, shame, resentment, envy, you name it, he felt it. Unfortunately they didn't top his list of emotions right then, instead he had to deal with a bout of pure unadulterated disgust over being betrayed by his best friend in the world. He felt he had been stabbed in the back by the one person he had always been able to expect to support him.
He had wanted to tell her about his new abilities, but since she'd been out here in BC, he hadn't even been able to get her alone to talk to her. Sunny had constantly been along with someone else whenever he'd seen her, most often either her mom or her two new buddies, Emily and Sami. The only time they had been alone with each other had been after going to their doctors, while they were waiting in the car for their mothers to come back from the pharmacy. Even that had only been for ten or fifteen minutes and certainly hadn't been a safe time to talk about secrets. Maybe not being able to tell her was a good thing, after all she'd managed to expose his clandestine talents as it was. She hadn't needed to know the whole story to betray him so badly that he was terrified of what could happen.
His explosion of temper hadn't helped the situation either, in fact it may have made things worse. On top of that he was desperately short of time now. He had a little over a week to try to get some sort of handle on his life before school started and after her betrayal, he was totally alone. He no longer had a best buddy to help out and . . .
"Oh CRAP!"
It had just dawned on him that for the first time since they had moved, he and Sunny had been alone with no one else around. He had screwed up, badly. Instead of talking to her and trying to explain what was going on, he had lost his temper and lectured her. Now he was angry at his own stupidity. He should have tried to trust her, after all the situation couldn't get much worse.
He paused, thinking about turning back, then he heard a ruckus behind him, a girl screaming, a man bellowing, then a dog growling and barking. Wait a second, that wasn't just any dog, he recognised that bark, that was Ghost, his dog. Ghost sounded excited, angry, as if he was in trouble, and that girl's voice, that was Sunny.
He spun around, looking back the way he had come, then broke into a run. An old guy dressed in ragged clothes had Sunny by the arm while Ghost was dancing around, snarling, and snapping, trying to get Sunny free. The old guy was swinging a stick at Ghost, trying to chase the dog off, but at the same time he seemed to be trying to drag Sunny toward one of the rocky outcrops that dotted the farm's upper fields.
Sunny was fighting to get away, trying to pull back toward the house and Ghost was bouncing back and forth, springing from side to side like a rabbit on a string. Tor couldn't see the old guy's face or judge how big he was because his back was to Tor, but he was much bigger than Sunny. The old tramp's scraggly grey hair and long black coat were flopping in the breeze, but Tor could tell he had a firm grip on Sunny. Sunny was squawking and hollering, the dog was snarling and barking and the old guy was cursing a blue-streak. The guy was holding one of Sunny's arms and pulling her along, but at the same time he was jabbing a stick of some sort at the dog, keeping Ghost away.
Tor didn't think anyone saw him coming up behind the old geezer, but as he got close he bellowed as loud as he could at the same time as grabbing the guy by both arms. He wrapped his fingers and thumbs around the muscles of the old man's upper arms and squeezed as hard as he could, doing his best to weaken the guy's grip on Sunny's arm and the stick. It worked too, because the tramp let go with both hands, however it certainly didn't stop him from fighting back. The old bugger twisted and bent forward, then kicked back at Tor with one foot, hitting him in the lower leg, right above the ankle where there wasn't much meat to cushion the blow. That really hurt like heck, but Tor wasn't letting the pervert get free and held his grip. Then Ghost leaped up and grabbed the guy's arm in his jaws. Sunny wasn't sitting still either. She kicked the guy in the gut, then grabbed his stick and clipped him with it, right on the side of his head. The old geezer dropped like a rock, hauling Tor down with him as he fell.
Tor didn't lay there long. The old man stank so badly it smelled like he was already dead and rotting away!
Tor rolled away and got to his feet just in time to stop Sunny from clobbering the old guy a second time. Then he had to stop Ghost from chewing on the old geezer. At least all Ghost had been biting on before seemed to have been the sleeve of the heavy coat the guy was wearing, so there was no blood. Only now, the old guy was trying to get up again, so Tor used his knee on the middle of the guy's back to hold him down and had to put all his weight on that knee to hold him there. That's when the old wierdo started screaming utter nonsense about being eaten alive and all sorts of gibberish about sharks and snakes. Tor managed to grab one wrist and haul it behind the guy's back, while still keeping his weight on his back. Sunny saw what Tor had done, then was trying to grab the tramp's other wrist. Tor would have helped, but he was still fighting to hold the man down, keep a grip on the arm and hold the dog off, all at the same time. Finally he roared at the dog, telling him to sit, then shifted the guy's arm so he could hold the guy's wrist with one hand and ordered Sunny to push the arm she was holding toward his free hand. She got it close enough that Tor managed to grab it, then the two of them managed to get both arms together in the middle of the old geezer's back. They didn't have any rope to tie the guy's wrists together though. Sunny had to take off Ghost's collar and they used that temporarily until Tor could make a small cut on the bottom section off the guys long floppy coat with a pocket knife, then he ripped off the hemmed part. With that doubled thickness of the woolen material tied around the old guy's wrists, Tor thought it might hold him for a while. Actually, even after Tor had the old geezer's wrists tied together, he had enough cloth left to tie the guy's elbows to an inch thick branch that he forced between his arms and his back. That old tramp wasn't going anywhere, but he wasn't going to be very comfortable either.
To be honest, Tor wasn't too worried about the bum's comfort right then though. He'd tried to take a step and found that after all the excitement was over, he was developing a very sore ankle, so he was thoroughly P'd off with the old codger. That ancient piece of crap was exceptionally dirty and reeked as if he hadn't had a bath in a year. He had tried to drag Sunny off, probably to assault her. He had tried to hit Tor's dog with a stick when Ghost had tried to save Sunny. Then too, he'd hurt Tor's ankle when Tor got involved in subduing him. After all that they even had to help the old bugger get to his feet because with his hands and arms tied, he couldn't do it on his own. To make matters even worse, the rain clouds that had been hanging around all day decided to drop a little moisture on them and get everyone wet. They were at least a mile from the farmyard and they had a prisoner, a guy that Tor was positive wasn't going to want to cooperate, and now it was raining.
Wonderful! Just Absolutely Marvellous! Tor wasn't even going to be able to use his rain shield since he had company. Just what Tor needed, on top of what had already been a rotten start to the afternoon.
"Tor, here, take this," Sunny handed him the stick the guy had been swinging at Ghost. "I saw you favouring your leg and if we have to walk, you'll need it."
"Yeah, as if 'Sir Galahad' here will cooperate," Tor snorted. "It might be better if I just stay here to guard him while you take Ghost with you to get help."
"Oh no, I'm not going anywhere without both you and Ghost along," she said firmly. "That's how I got in trouble before. Besides, now that you're here, I can apologise and say I promise never to mention that subject again. I won't try to twist your arm about anything like that either."
"Don't make promises you can't keep," Tor frowned. "Broken promises annoy me more than other details, but if you can get everyone else off my butt about playing hockey, I'd sure appreciate it. Most importantly though, don't go saying I can tell what other players are going to do. Do you know what people would do if anyone really could read minds? That person would be hated by everyone because they'd all be scared of revealing their secrets."
"Yeah, I thought about that while I was walking, and it is scary," Sunny nodded. "Look, I can't take back what I said, but I promise to do my best to make everyone think you were upset about being compared to Gretzky, okay? I'll even to try to get them to shut up about that."
"I guess that'll have to do," Tor sighed, then shoved at the old guy. "Okay soldier, lets go."
"Don't wanna go no place," the old tramp grumbled, but he took a few steps.
"Keep going," Tor growled at him.
As he took a step to follow him, he tried to take the weight off his foot by leaning on the stick, but it really didn't help much. He knew he must have hurt his ankle quite badly.
"Crap!" he complained.
Now his foot hurt even worse and he was still in a bad mood, as much from frustration as anything. The old guy didn't want to move more than three or four steps before stopping. Every time Tor's right foot had to bear any weight, it hurt like blazes, but now his ankle and lower leg hurt too. Since they still weren't alone, he couldn't say much to Sunny, so he was certain she thought he was still furious with her. Actually, he was still angry and disappointed about what she'd done, but nowhere near what he had been.
Then Tor's foot landed on the edge of a hole and twisted. He screamed from the pain as he felt something in his ankle shift. Actually, it felt like two edges of something in his ankle had grated together, so he was certain that the old tramp had broken something in either his ankle, his foot or his leg. It hurt so much that he couldn't seem to catch his breath for a moment and he leaned on the stick, barely able to stand because of the pain.
"Ohhhhhhh damn, that hurt!" he managed to growl, then to make matters worse he shifted slightly, lost his balance and fell, hurting himself even more than before.
He lay there, ready to throw in the towel, only there was no referee to stop this struggle. He didn't know what he would have done if he hadn't looked up and seen his dad's pickup truck coming across the field.
"Oh thank goodness, here comes Dad," Tor sighed, which was when the old codger decided that he'd try to run off, but Ghost didn't let him get far.
Of course there were ten thousand questions when Tor's dad and Mrs. Enright got out of the pickup truck. As far as answers, there was a rampant rattle of noise. The old guy was yammering again, rambling about being eaten by sharks and snakes, but now he added rabid wolves to the mix as he glared at Ghost. Sunny was bawling and babbling about being chased and dragged by 'the old pervert,' then being rescued by Tor, with Ghost's help. Ghost was barking and snarling, bouncing from side to side as he did his best to keep the old guy from running off. Tor tried to explain, but he wasn't certain if his dad really understood what had happened.
He didn't really care though. Now that his dad was there to take charge, he just wanted to get out of the rain, so he could get warm and dry!
He got warm and dry all right, just not right away. He was helped into the back of the pickup along with his dad, the 'tramp'- or whatever he was - and Ghost. Meanwhile Mrs. Enright got into the driver's seat and Sunny got in the front with her, then Mrs. Enright slowly drove back to the farmyard. Tor's dad was sitting between him and the old man, probably to keep them from beating on each other, or else to keep Ghost from chewing on the guy.
Back at the house things got even crazier. Dag and Björn had been busy packing up to head for university the next day. Meanwhile Alva was already loading things in her car that she wanted to take to nursing school. Of course their mom was trying to help everyone, then the pickup truck arrived on the scene.
Olga Eklund went ballistic when she heard Sunny had been attacked and Tor had been hurt while rescuing her. She wanted the cops there right now to arrest that 'ugly old tramp.' She wanted the 'old pervert' who'd attacked Sunny and hurt her youngest son to be kept far away from the house because she didn't want his stench around for days. She wanted Tor to be helped into her car instantly, if not sooner, so she could take him to the hospital and have him checked over from head to foot. She wanted Sunny to come along so she could be checked to see if she was hurt in any way, shape or form. She wanted Ollie to call the veterinarian to have Ghost checked for any fleas and possible diseases he might have picked up from being near 'that horrid, lecherous, old pervert.'
You might think that all those orders, coming so quickly and piled on top of each other would confuse the family, but you'd be wrong. Ollie Eklund may have been the boss around the farm, but when Olga Eklund hollered, people moved and she made certain that they moved as quickly as she wanted and exactly where she wanted them to be.
Ollie headed for the house to call the police and the veterinarian. Dag and Björn marched the old tramp to the barn and tied him to a post, surrounding him with the barn dogs. Alva and Mrs.Enright helped Tor into Olga's car while Olga rushed inside to get her keys and her purse. Tor saw it all happen, but he was in pain now, even more than he'd felt before. Every movement of his foot felt like his whole leg had been dipped in a roaring fire and he wanted to scream, but stubbornly gritted his teeth and held his tongue.
In minutes they were headed for town. Olga was driving her car and Mrs. Enright was sitting in the front passenger's seat. Tor was sitting in the back seat behind his mom and Sunny was sitting on the other side of the car. He sat sideways though because his mom insisted his foot would be better off it was raised, so Sunny had a pillow on her lap and Tor's foot was resting on the pillow. In other words, Olga had issued the orders, and everyone had obeyed. That worked until she parked in the hospital's emergency entrance driveway, then a nurse wearing a green uniform bearing a label that simply read 'Admissions' took over the job of drill sergeant.
Tor was loaded into a wheelchair and wheeled to an examining room where his right boot laces were cut with a set of curved scissors, then both boots were slipped off. After that the scissors were used to cut away his sock and the leg of his blue jeans. He was surprised that his foot was carefully washed after that. Then another nurse came into the room. She examined his foot, carefully running her fingers over it, asking questions and nodding her head. Finally she gave him a shot for the pain and ordered an x-ray. It took a moment for that shot to set in, but – oh, what a difference! He knew his foot was still there and that it still hurting, but it was no longer the burning ache it had been. Then things became a little blurry for a while, but he was stripped and put into a hospital gown, then helped onto a gurney. Next Tor was off to the x-ray room where the attendant took at least three different views of his foot. From there he was shuttled to a third room and waited there for a while.
He was expecting the doctor to come in to see him, but to his surprise a nurse came in instead. She didn't touch Tor though, it seemed she was just showing the way for Tor's dad and an RCMP officer. The nurse left again after warning his dad and the Police Officer that she thought the doctor would be ready for Tor in only a few moments. Something about that sounded a bit off kilter, but his dad was introducing him to Officer McDonald, so although Tor felt fuzzy headed, he tried to pay attention to what the officer had to say.
"To start with, Tor, I'd like to thank you for what you did today, but I'd like to say that you are a very lucky young man and so is your young lady friend. The man you apprehended is Donald Franks. He is wanted on a Canada-wide warrant for murder, attempted murder, criminal mischief, rape, attempted rape, unlawful escape of custody and unlawful confinement. He was judged to be criminally insane and had not been seen since January of last year when he escaped from a treatment room for the criminally insane near Toronto, Ontario. At that time, he overpowered two guards and a doctor, injuring one of the guards so badly that he did not survive," Officer McDonald said quietly. "Now I'd like to hear, in your words, how you succeeded in capturing the man."
"I don't know, really. It all happened so fast," Tor frowned and looked down at his hands. "I know his back was toward me and he was fighting to pull Sunny off somewhere, but at the same time he was trying to keep my dog from getting too close. I came up behind him and hollered as loud as I could, then at the same time I grabbed his upper arms and squeezed really hard, digging my fingers into the muscles. I didn't want to let go, although he fought against me really, really hard. I'm not sure what happened next. I know he fell, but as he fell, he kicked me in the leg. I fell and landed on top of him, so maybe that knocked the wind out of him or something, so we could hold him down. Eventually Sunny and I got the collar off the dog and around his wrists, but that didn't fit right and I wanted something better. Somehow I cut a strip off the bottom of the guy's coat to tie his hands with that. When I looked at him though, he seemed to have awfully strong arms and was pulling at the tie on his wrists really hard, so I got Sunny to find a stick. I don't know where she got it, but she found something. Anyway, I worked the stick under one arm, then across his back and under the other arm and tied his elbows to that. I think that's about all that happened, except for hurting my foot again when I tried to stand. Dad came driving up with Sunny's mom soon after that."
"How old are you, young man?"
"I'm thirteen, why?"
"Oh, I just find it somewhat humourous that two teenage kids and their dog have captured a man who has been evading every police force from here to Ontario," the officer chuckled as he snapped shut his report book. "I certainly hope your injury isn't too serious, but to partially alleviate the pain, I'll advise you that there was a $5,000.00 reward for information leading to the capture and arrest of Donald Franks. Since you people have virtually handed him to us on a platter, I think the reward should go to you and your young lady friend. As his father, what do you think Mr. Eklund?"
"I think that would be fine," Tor's dad smiled. "Perhaps that will make up for the fact that he won't be able to play hockey for the year."
"Oh. Wait a minute . . . Oh my goodness, now I know who you are," Officer McDonald looked at Tor in surprise. "I'm assistant coach of the local Midget hockey team and your former coach from Saskatchewan sent us a letter advising us that you would be moving to this area. He felt that you were good enough to deserve a tryout with us. If you are anywhere near as good as he implied, Tor, it would be a shame if you couldn't play."
"Sorry, Coach. I wouldn't be playing hockey this year anyway. First off, we've just moved to a new farm and we're still in the process of getting it set up the way we want," he paused and gestured toward his foot. "Secondly, I've just had a painful reminder that I don't know how to fight defensively, so I'll be looking to spend my spare time taking some form of martial arts this winter. Third, I've grown about six inches in height and added about forty pounds of weight this past summer. So, although I look big, I'm still only thirteen years old and with all that sudden growth, I feel as clumsy as a bear cub trying to juggle a pine cone. I'm not even certain I can skate well any more and if I can't play finesse hockey at high speed, then I'd rather sit in the stands and watch others play. Besides, I refuse to play if I'm just being sent out by the coach to act as an enforcer. When you add this leg problem on top of all that, the chances of my playing hockey this year slide from slim to zilch."
"Your old coach did mention that you had strong opinions about retaliation for rough play," Officer McDonald cocked an eyebrow as if asking a question.
"Oh, I can retaliate with the best of them and I love to knock goons on their butts if they give me a reason," Tor grinned somewhat viciously. "The only difference is I make sure that I retaliate with a clean hit. I refuse to stand toe to toe with another player, throwing punches while on skates though. That's stupid. It's just begging to be knocked off your feet and there's a good chance of banging your head on the ice, which is an easy way to end up with a concussion. I like my brains just as they are, thank you, not scrambled by thumps and bangs I can avoid. Besides, up until now I've always said that to hit me, they have to catch me, and until this year I've managed to make that brag stick."
"Yeah, we got that idea from the letter. Andy Kilburn, the coach of another local team, seems to have the idea from what he read that you aren't much of a team player."
"Ha, he's never seen Tor play," Tor's dad snorted. "Tor was one of the lightest players on the team last year, but he still hit other players when it was necessary. The difference is in the speed he moves on the ice. If he puts someone into the boards, they feel it and if he sets out to hit them hard, they stay hit."
"I see, then what was the reference to being a 'second Gretzky' about?"
"Oh, you know how it is, you see how a player shoots and where he has a habit of shooting, who he likes to play the puck off to, stuff like that. It's all observation. Anyone can do it," Tor shrugged. "I might be faster at it than some, but it's nothing hard to learn. You just need to think fast, but I don't think my last coach thought that fast, so he didn't believe me."
"Well, I think you would be interesting to coach," Officer McDonald smiled. "However I'd better get back to being a police officer, since I am on duty. I imagine I'll be talking to you in the future and perhaps you could come around and teach our players how to observe others. I think that might be a real benefit to our team."
"I could try, but I think it would be extremely difficult. Whether they'd believe me in the first place is another question though. I can just imagine how much any of them would listen to a young kid they'd never seen before trying to give them advice on how to play," he shrugged. "If they're typical players, then since most of those guys were five-years-old, they've done the exact same thing. Get out on the ice as often as possible. Get the puck on the stick whenever possible. Keep the puck on the stick – unless your best buddy has a breakaway, then maybe you share the puck. Otherwise, skate down the ice and ignore everyone else. Shoot the puck at the goalie, not past the goalie, but right at him. Most players get blinded by the idea of having control of the puck. All they see is that rubber disk and they hardly notice the other players on the ice, so the whole game is spent being blind sided and missing obvious chances."
Tor paused for a moment and knew that the drugs he'd been given were making him sound off more than he usually would, but he couldn't seem to stop his mouth from running away.
"To be honest, a lot of guys just play hockey so they can look like heros and don't have that team spirit you were mentioning. They're only out there to show off and that's all there is to it. The worst of the lot are some of the goons, the guys you coaches call enforcers. All they want to do is get into a fight, so they can look like they're tougher than anyone else. My ideal would be to play on a team where no one was selfish and everyone tried to help each other score. Heck, if I was ever on a team that had fifty percent of its players who worked well together, we'd be tops in all of Canada," Tor glared at the officer. "Go out there this year and teach half of your team to play clean and cooperate with each other, then I'll think about playing for you next year. You can't lose by trying that strategy, even if I never play for you. If you manage to do those two things, your team will be better off and so will each and every one of your players."
"You're rather opinionated about coaching, aren't you?"
"Yep!" Tor snapped. "I had an excellent coach last year and we had two great lines, well, one and a half. We made it to the provincial finals in our division and I think we'd have gone further if we'd had one less selfish player on our team. I made a mistake, passed to the wrong player at the wrong time and he let himself get boxed in, instead of passing to an open player with a clear shot on goal. So we lost in overtime."
Officer McDonald left the room looking very thoughtful and Tor caught his dad chuckling.
"What's so funny?" he demanded, since his foot was hurting and he didn't feel like laughing.
"Oh, I find it amusing that my thirteen-year-old son just chewed out a police officer, who happens to be a hockey coach, and managed to win the discussion hands down."
They didn't have a chance to say much more right then because Tor's mom and a doctor came into the room. Neither of them looked exactly happy either and that didn't seem to bode well.
"Hello, young man, Mr Eklund," The doctor glanced at Tor, then nodded to his dad. "I'm Doctor Kwon. I'm a surgeon, specializing in sports medicine and remedial surgery. I happened to be visiting another patient in this hospital today, a hockey player who had an accident while waterskiing. He has a relatively simple spiral fracture of the tibia, but it appears that your case is much more complex and could benefit from my attention as well."
"I'm sorry, Doctor, but do I really need a surgeon?" Tor sat up and stared at him.
"Oh, hasn't the medical staff advised you of the seriousness of your injury?" the doctor frowned, looking at the chart in his hands.
"Doctor Kwon, no one has told us anything," Tor's mom said shortly, looking over at his dad, who shook his head.
"Oh," Doctor Kwon puckered his lips and blew a silent whistle. "Well, then I suppose it's my job to give you the bad news. Thor, I understand you suffered this injury while apprehending a criminal?"
"My name is pronounced Tor, Doctor Kwon. The 'H' is silent, but you're right, I got kicked while catching an old guy who was attacking one of my neighbours, but what does that have to do with needing an operation?"
"Well, Tor, from the damage which was done, your foot must have been held off to one side and extended in a tiptoe position when your ankle was struck from the inside and in front. The impact damaged your ankle bone, also known as the talus, which appears to have suffered a break and as well as displacement from its normal position. Normally, the talus is an extremely strong bone and is locked into place on the upper end between the tibia and the fibula, the two bones of the lower leg. The lower edge of the talus is locked in place by the shape of the calcaneus, or heel bone, as well as by the bones, muscles and tendons of the lower leg and the foot. At the present time your talus is no longer sitting in its optimum position. Now surgery is not absolutely essential, your foot would probably heal without an operation so you'd be able to walk, however in that case, chances are you would no longer have full use of your foot. Since you would no longer have optimal funtion of that ankle, you would almost certainly be plagued by a limp and would probably need to use a cane for the rest of your life.
"I mentioned previously that I happened to be here to visit another patient. That patient is a local hero and an excellent hockey player, and just by chance his coach came into his room and mentioned your situation. Out of curiosity, I asked about it as I was leaving and found that your general practitioner was already thinking of consulting with me because of the complexity of the case. He was called off to deliver a baby, but we did talk briefly and he asked me to look at your chart and other information, then attempt to convince you to let me operate. In my opinion your talus needs to be shifted back into its proper position and may even need to be repaired with a thin titanium screw."
"Doctor, if this talus thing is locked in so well, how did it ever move?" Tor's mother demanded.
"Ah, that's why I mentioned the placement of Tor's foot, at the time of the injury. Only in that position is it vulnerable to this sort of injury, even then the blow must have been extremely violent, three other bones and several ligaments were damaged as well. The blow had to come from an inside angle and in front of his leg. Then the object hitting him had to have a sharp edge as well – I would suspect the heel of a boot and it must have been a very strong blow. The reason I say that is because of the damage done. The talus normally connects to the three bones I've already mentioned, but it also connects to a bone called the 'navicular,' which eventually connects to the three largest toes. At the present time, his talus doesn't connect properly with any of the four bones I have mentioned, since it is canted to one side and twisted out of position. You should know that the longer it remains in this position, the more difficult it will be to repair," he sighed then. "Your son's lower leg and foot were both quite badly injured, Mrs. Eklund. He has a cracked fibula, a cracked or damaged talus, and two metatarsals are cracked. I'm not even going to try to list all the tendons which might be damaged. Since they don't show well on an x-ray, we don't know and can only guess at what damage has been done to them. If I am going to operate, I would like your decision soon, but if you give your permission, I am willing to operate within the hour."
"Do it!" Tor's dad said firmly and his mom nodded.
Tor just nodded at the doctor when he glanced Tor's way – he wanted the full use of his foot, thank you very much.
Things happened quickly after that. In other words, Tor wasn't bored any longer. Actually Tor hadn't found any of the day to be boring, except for one short period not long after he'd come to the hospital. However things happened to him that day that he'd never had happen before. First off, he'd never had his leg and foot shaved before. Then not long after that he was wheeled into an operating room and a guy put a mask on his face and told him to count backward from ten. Tor had never gone through that before either.
When Tor first awoke, it was late at night and he really didn't feel well. He had a headache to end all headaches, so painful that it felt like the top of his skull was ready to blow off. On top of that, his mouth tasted so bad it was unbelievable. Actually, his mouth tasted as if someone had worked in the barnyard all day, then hadn't cleaned off their boots before dancing on his tongue. Besides that his stomach was queasy and his throat hurt. Since he'd heard of other people becoming sick after being given anaesthesia, he added two and two, then came to the conclusion that he could probably add his name to that list in the future. If what he was feeling was a result of being 'put under' by gas and was what he could expect afterward, he never wanted a repeat session.
Tor had another reason for not wanting to be anaesthetised again though; when he'd been under anaesthesia, he'd 'heard' the doctor and the nurses as they operated on his foot. he'd 'heard' the doctor call for scalpel, retractor, irrigation, suction, and probably a hundred other comments, all now somewhat blurry memories. It could have been worse though, he'd had a brief 'view' of the doctor's hands, one hand resting a thumb and forefinger on Tor's foot, the other hand holding a scalpel over a line drawn on his skin. Mercifully that view had disappeared almost as quickly as it had appeared. If he'd been able to shut off the medical chatter as quickly, he'd have been very happy, but he couldn't; he couldn't find an 'off' switch no matter how hard he tried. The sensation was utterly weird. It seemed as if he was floating in a swirling sea of murkiness, a muted black space, while in the background there were voices speaking softly, yet curtly. Still, for some reason he had to listen as it continued and couldn't make it stop.
The one good thing about hearing everything that happened was knowing that the doctor was pleased with the final result of the operation. He'd 'heard' the doc say quietly; "There, in a few months he'll be walking just as well as ever."
Come to think of it, perhaps there was an 'off' switch after all, because he didn't remember them sewing him back up or doing anything else. The doctor's words of success had been the last thing he had remembered. In a way, that made sense, because he'd been worried that they couldn't fix his foot and that he'd be stuck with a bad limp for the rest of his life. It was nice to be assured that the surgeon felt he'd be able to walk normally, that relieved Tor and he felt his body relax, then slowly his headache seemed to ease. Oh, that felt so much better.
When he woke again, it must have been much later because the room was dark, and the hospital seemed very quiet. It was probably late at night. Tor considered trying to call a nurse to get a drink and rinse the bad taste from his mouth, but before he could make up his mind, he must have fallen asleep again.
Tor fell into a nightmare! He felt sick to his stomach. His chest hurt. His head was spinning and he was afraid he was going to be sick. He heard a buzzer making an annoying racket. Then someone was there, people were milling around his bed, not just one nurse, but several people. What was the matter? Why did he feel so rotten? Had something gone wrong with his operation?
Oh no, he felt as if he was going to throw up and for some reason he had a hard time turning to get his head clear of the pillow.
. . . later . . .
Darkness, quiet, pain in his throat, in his chest. He couldn't seem to take a deep breath and he had a gut ache. Just what is wrong? Why was he feeling so sick? He felt weird. His head was spinning. Please make it stop. Make it go away.
. . . then again . . .
People were talking quietly, but angrily - wait, that was his mom's voice, what was she angry about? There were people there, coming and going, but they were all hurried, some of them were frustrated – what was wrong? Why couldn't he see clearly? Everything was fuzzy. The room was spinning. Why couldn't he say anything? He wanted to ask what was wrong, but he didn't seem to be able to speak. Why do I feel like this? Just what is going on?
. . . and later yet . . .
Quiet. Peaceful. He didn't seem to hurt.
"Oh, that feels so good!"
Perhaps he could sleep without having weird dreams or scary nightmares.
"Oh please, just let me rest, just let me sleep!"
Tor awakened to the feeling of being kissed on his left cheek and opened his eyes in time to see his sister Alva lifting her head, her lips still puckered. The room was bright, so bright he blinked several times and Alva must have been surprised that she'd wakened him.
"Tor! You're awake!"
"Unh huh," he managed to mumble through the pain in his throat, then he coughed and that hurt worse.
Alva squeaked, something about a nurse and dashed off, running out the door.
What was going on? They'd operated on his foot, not his throat. Why was his throat sore? What had gone wrong? Wait a minute. His foot didn't hurt that much, instead he had a headache. Other than that he just felt listless, but only his throat hurt much and even that wasn't all that bad. There was something in his mouth, pulling at his lip. When he touched it with the tip of his tongue it felt like a long object that seemed to go from his lips and back into his mouth - back further than his tongue could reach - down his throat?
Then suddenly he was surrounded by doctors and nurses. They were touching him, checking his pulse, taking his blood pressure, checking his temperature, giving him a sip of water through a straw and asking questions - a thousand and one questions.
How did he feel? Were his chest pains gone? Did he have a headache? Did the light seem too bright? Did he hurt anywhere? How many fingers did he see? And on, and on, and on, question after question, but none of his answers seemed to please anyone.
All those questions, then finally, after what seemed like an hour, he learned that he'd been quite ill and had been unresponsive for four days. He'd suffered bouts of nausea and complained of extreme headaches. His temperature had been high, but had never reached a dangerous level. It seemed that he'd had a bout with a virus, but they had yet to isolate exactly what it was. They suspected an unspecific form of influenza.
His regular doctor, or at least the one Tor had seen at the clinic, told him that he had come through the operation in good shape. Then three hours after he'd been moved to recovery he'd become extremely nauseous and had vomited, but there had been almost nothing in his stomach to bring up. He had complained of bright lights, headache, stomach cramps, a sore throat and a sore chest. Then he'd gone into a totally unresponsive state and had seemed comatose. He had reacted to physical stimulation, but not to any direct questions. In fact he hadn't shown any reasoned response until Alva had 'awakened' him. Then he discovered that it was the fourth morning of his stay in the hospital.
Tor's throat still felt sore and he asked about that, then asked if they could get that darn tube out of his mouth so he could talk without garbling his words. It was while the doctor was having a nurse remove the tube that he realized there was a frame at the foot of the bed and his right foot was slung in a harness which raised it a foot or so. As well as that he could feel a harness of some sort at his waist, so he was strapped to the bed.
"Why am I tied down?" he demanded.
"Because you became restless. Since your foot had been operated on, having you move it around freely would have caused problems. By the way, your foot is showing signs of healing already, which is an excellent sign. How does it feel to you?"
"Uncomfortable, I want to move it and can't," he snorted
"Just a moment." The doctor lifted a sheet which was covering his foot. "Now, try wiggling your toes for me, but don't bother trying to turn or bend your foot. Your lower leg, ankle and foot are all in a brace which will prevent that."
Even moving his toes was uncomfortable, but it wasn't extremely painful, anything else - forget it! At least the doctor seemed happy with the result. After a few more tests and questions the doctor felt he was well on his way to normal health again. He had the nurse take Tor off the IV and put him on a diet of 'softs' - liquids, ice cream, thin soups and something that looked like baby food. Tor didn't care, he felt as if he was starving, anything edible looked good and tasted marvellous.
Alva was finally allowed back into the room, and she'd phoned home to let their mom know he was awake and functional, so Tor's mom was soon there too. They stayed with him for almost an hour, while he polished off a few tiny bowls of various foods, then they left him alone to have a rest - as if he could sleep. Later that evening both his mom and dad came back, but Alva had left that afternoon, driving to Vancouver in order to start her nursing course. Of course Dag and Björn were already gone since they had further to go and both of their courses started a day earlier than Alva's did. The guys had left the morning after his operation and had driven to Calgary, where Dag had caught a plane to Ontario.
The next morning Tor was surprised to have Officer McDonald drop by to see him, then Sunny and Mrs. Enright slipped in to see him in the afternoon. Even later, just before time for his evening meal, Doctor Kwon dropped by to see how he was doing. Dr. Kwon was there when the meal was delivered and although Tor was happy with what he had on his plate, because it was actual solid food, the doctor frowned at it. Tor heard from one of the nurses who came on duty later that the doctor went looking for the hospital nutritionist and modified the diet Tor would be on for any future meals while he was in the hospital. Tor was suddenly put onto a high vitamin, mineral and protein diet, something Dr. Kwon called a 'Sport Injury Recover Diet' and Tor certainly didn't complain. When his mom came in that evening she was somewhat riled though, because the doctor had caught her in the hallway and had handed her a copy of the diet, telling her Tor would need to follow it until he was fully recovered.
"It's full of junk food," she snarled as she read it over. "If I fed you this little decent food, you'd lose weight and fade away. When you get out of here, I'm going to invite him out to eat with us, so he can try a meal of real food for once."
Wisely, Tor kept his mouth shut.
Other than the first four days when he was comatose, Tor's hospital stay essentially became fourteen days of sheer boredom. There were a few things which happened which were interesting enough to mention though. One of those was the fact that during the time he stayed in hospital, he learned to 'shut off' the thoughts of others, but then, he had to. Initially he was being awakened by the pain and suffering of others at odd hours of the night, but the ability to shut off his sensitivity to the aches and pains of others didn't happen instantly.
For instance, the first night after he had been reawakened from his four-day coma, he didn't rest very well and only slept for a few hours. Just after midnight he was awakened when a woman in the midst of childbirth was admitted to the hospital and her 'cries' of pain roused him out of a deep sleep. In ever shortening periods from then until four in the morning, he 'felt' the overflow of her birthing pangs. What bothered him was that she brought much of that pain on herself, insisting that she wanted to bear her child naturally and refused painkillers, until finally she capitulated and asked for an epidural. The 'sympathetic' pain that Tor had been feeling eased almost instantly, but he still felt her give birth about ten minutes later. Finally, after the baby was born, he was finally able to fall asleep once more.
The second night was even worse. He literally 'felt' a man die of a massive heart attack. He'd hardly gotten asleep when he was reawakened by an extremely intense headache, then as that eased, he felt pains shoot down his arm and somehow realized it was 'outside' pain - not his own. Tor was trying to control it, trying to block it out, then it changed, suddenly he was having a hard time getting his breath, but again, it wasn't his pain, it came from someone else. He was actually breathing well, but the feeling of not being able to get his breath beat on him and his chest began to hurt. He sat up and tried to break off the sensations which flooded him, but the pain in his chest was growing – bigger, then even bigger, suddenly it was massive, engulfing his whole upper body. It grew so bad that he was becoming fearful for his life. He'd known the night before that the pain came from 'outside,' but this pain felt like it was his own, not pain coming from someone else's body. Tor closed his eyes, imagined a solid door and slammed it closed just as that pain burst through every cell of his being. Instantly, the pain was gone – disappearing so rapidly that it was shocking. He was left sitting bolt upright, panting for breath and sweating profusely while his heart beat wildly. It was only after his breathing eased and his heartbeat calmed that he noticed alarm bells ringing and people scurrying about in the hallway.
Tor was awake when a passing nurse happened to glance into the room and saw him sitting up in bed.
"Are you okay, Tor? Do you have a problem?" she asked quietly.
"I was awakened by a nightmare or something," he answered. "Then I heard so much noise going on and . . ."
She interrupted him by holding up a hand.
"We had a small emergency, but everything is handled now." she tried to sound calm and reassuring.
"Are you sure? It still sounds like a lot is happening."
"Well, an older gentleman had a heart attack, but we got there in time and he'll be okay. There may be minor noises for a while, but nothing you need to worry about. Just lay back and relax. If you can't sleep, just ring the buzzer and a nurse will bring you something to help."
Tor didn't want to hold her back from whatever she had been doing, so he didn't ask any more then, but he found out the next day that she was telling the truth. An old man had suffered a heart attack, and had no heart beat when they entered his room, but they had managed to restart his heart and he was still alive the next day.
That morning was red letter day for another reason as well though. He was fitted with a brace which held his leg firmly, but unlike a cast, the brace was removable to allow the bandages and dressings on his ankle to be replaced. The big thing about the brace was the fact his catheter was removed and he no longer had to depend on having help to use a bedpan for his bowel movements. Even though he wouldn't be allowed to go home yet, he was finally able to go to the bathroom on his own, so he was able to use a regular toilet for the first time in almost a week. Tor wasn't allowed to put any weight on his right foot, but he could use a wheelchair and that made a huge difference to the way he felt. He began to believe he was recovering.
The next noteworthy happening for Tor was being shifted out of the isolation room he'd been in and into a four-person ward. At least once he was moved there, Sunny had begun to visit every few days and bring him homework assignments, even letting him read over her notes from the classes they shared. When she'd come for a visit, she'd met the other patients in the ward and they certainly made much of her, especially Tor's nearest neighbour in the ward, who was also one of Doctor Kwon's patients.
Sixteen-year-old Tommy Carruthers was certain that he was going to be the greatest star that the National Hockey League would ever see and for the next few days Tor listened to Tommy tell him why. Far be it from Tor to argue with him though, he was just the thirteen-year-old kid in the next bed, new in town and unfortunately, unable to get up and walk away. Tor didn't know why, but he had never liked to brag and he didn't really care much for people who bragged about themselves. It wasn't that Tor didn't enjoy doing things well and he enjoyed watching other people do well, but he liked the accomplishment to speak for itself.
When Sunny and her mother visited with homework assignments for Tor, Tommy Carruthers' boasts reached a level that almost made Tor laugh, but he never complained or commented. He just listened and nodded politely, only frowning and shaking his head when Sunny started to mention that Tor played hockey quite well. Of course that small slip was like a wedge for Tommy and once Sunny and Mrs. Enright had left, he began to give Tor advice about how best to play hockey. Unfortunately the advice he gave was totally against Tor's philosophy of how to play the game, but instead of arguing, he lay back and let Tommy ramble on, and on, and on. In fact although he didn't think Tommy would ever be more than a distant acquaintance, even though they were in hospital together, but he didn't do anything to bring on Tommy's displeasure. That was done by Officer McDonald, who also happened to be Tommy's coach.
Officer McDonald brought around a newspaper reporter and a photographer, so when Tommy saw them come into the room, he must have assumed they were coming to see him. The difference in the two teenagers reaction said a lot about each of them. Tommy saw the three men enter the room and sat up straight in anticipation of an interview, meanwhile Tor saw them coming and slouched down in his bed, wishing he could run and hide. When Officer McDonald walked past Tommy's bed with only a brief nod, then approached Tor instead, Tommy looked as if he had just been slapped in the face.
Then Tommy looked almost apoplectic when Tor was asked if he would mind giving the reporter an interview about catching a fugitive wanted on a cross-Canada warrant.
Instead of boasting about what he'd done, Tor just shook his head. "I don't want my name in the paper and I don't want my picture in the paper. If you want to interview the real heros of that episode, you have two choices, you can go talk to Sunny Enright or you can go take a picture of my dog, Ghost. I just held onto the guy and helped tie him up, they knocked the guy down and kept him there. Heck, I was so clumsy I got my leg and foot all busted up, while they did everything else, but they're good enough at what they did that they got through it without a scratch. It was Dad who showed up after that and brought the guy in. I was just there by chance and even then I was mostly a spectator, lying on the ground with a busted foot."
Tor probably wouldn't have been so bold or so forthright, but he had seen his mom and dad walk into the room right behind the photographer. Tor's mom waited until he was finished speaking before she cleared her throat.
"Officer McDonald, I expected better of you than this!" Olga Eklund said in a tone that could have frozen molten iron. "You should certainly be aware that you do not have my permission to conduct a newspaper interview or photograph my underage child. Since my son just happens to be a witness in an ongoing court case I would have thought you would know better than that. Just exactly what do you think you are doing?"
The photographer made an error then. He must have been nervous or something, because his camera flashed as he took a photo, which he claimed afterward was accidental. However he almost instantly found his camera lense filled by the image of Ollie Eklund's rather large body and looked up to see a huge man staring down at him with a frown on his face.
"You've just taken a picture of a child in a compromising position while restricted to his bed and you took that picture against his wishes and mine. Do you realize what I could have you charged with trying to do? Does child pornography ring a bell?" Ollie Eklund snarled and the photographer turned white.
"But this is all being done for publicity, good publicity." Officer McDonald protested.
That was the wrong thing to say to Tor's mom. Olga was ready to explode, but she didn't want to do it in a hospital room, so she asked them all to go outside where they could talk and not disturb the patients in the room. Tor don't think the other five patients in the room wanted them to leave, but he knew his mom would get her way.
The trouble for Tor came after they left the room; 'Mr. Hockey' wanted to know what Tor had done to rate a newspaper reporter and a photographer visiting him in the hospital.
"I don't really know. I did help catch a hobo who was hiding out on our farm, maybe that's it," Tor shrugged.
"Well, if he was wanted by the police on a warrant, he must have been dangerous or something. What was he wanted for?"
"I dunno?" Tor shrugged again. "Why do the police usually arrest homeless people? Vagrancy, maybe?"
That didn't seem to make Tommy happy or the least bit satisfied and he began a concerted effort to annoy Tor. Thankfully Tommy's incision was healed well enough that he had a cast fitted and went home two days afterward. Tommy had barely been wheeled out of the room before the old man in the next bed sighed heavily, then looked across freshly emptied bed and winked at Tor.
"Now that the braggart is gone, the nurses will be able send in a front end loader and a manure spreader to clean up his mess." the old guy croaked.
"Pardon me?" Tor frowned, wondering what the old guy meant.
"Well, I figure they'll need heavy equipment to clean up all the horse puckey that guy was spreadin' so freely." The old guy cackled. "I've seen him play hockey and the only thing he's much good at is warming the seat in the penalty box, so if you play hockey, don't take his advise on how to play."
Tor just grinned and gave the old guy a thumbs up sign.
If nothing else, having Tommy out of the ward resulted in the room being much quieter. In a way that made the rest of the time Tor spent in the hospital even more boring, but at least he wasn't constantly fighting back replies to the taunts he'd been subject to after the 'publicity' incident.
Only a few days after quiet had descended on the ward, Dr. Kwon checked Tor's leg and said he was healing so well that he suggested they could try a cast and see how Tor did. Of course Tor was all in favour of the idea, but even while it was being fitted, he commented that it felt 'funny' and complained to the orderly that it felt 'tight' over the area where the surgical incision had been. After only about four hours, he couldn't stand the irritation any longer and the first attempt at a cast had to be removed. Somehow that cast had irritated the scar from his surgery and caused an inflamation, so Tor was back to using the clunky brace for a few more days. Five days later they fitted him with another cast, but wouldn't let him go home until he'd worn the new cast overnight to see if the new cast caused any irritation, but other than feeling heavy, it seemed fine.
Tor had never been so glad to get into his mom's car as he was that afternoon. Climbing into that car meant he was leaving the hospital, but then he'd been there for a total of eighteen days and he hoped he'd never have to stay in a hospital again. It had definitely not been an enjoyable time.