Chapter 39: Medical Records
The next morning, Kevin wasn't sure how things were going to be, but when he entered the kitchen, he mother was already at the stove making breakfast.
He greeted her before ending up on the bar stool again, looking across the expanse of shiny granite as she finished pan-frying ham.
"Kevin, dear, go set the plate on the dining room table." He gathered up place mats, napkins, and utensils, and arranged them before the two chairs closest to the outside, where the sunlight was streaming through the windows. She carried in two plates with eggs over easy, ham a toast, then returned with orange juice and coffee. "Sit."
Kevin sneaked a glance at his mother. She appeared calm and relaxed, no tension in her demeanor. It seemed the events of the night had somehow released a knot inside. He felt much better, and dug into the food with gusto.
When they were down to sipping coffee, his mother spoke.
"I've never really talked about what happened back then. The doctors could never find anything medically wrong except for a tiny bit of scar tissue, and your father refused to even acknowledge that you came out of surgery with anything wrong.
"You know, I still have your medical records somewhere. I don't know why but I shipped them down here when I sold the old house. Would you like them?"
Kevin's heart beat fast. This was part of what he wanted. If this strange blackout is related to his childhood ones, he wanted to understand as much as possible what his eight-year-old body endured.
"Just do you don't have to store them, if you can find my records, I'll take them back with me." She nodded and took another sip from her coffee cup.
"Once I change, I'll dig them out of the closet."
* * *
It turned out to be a light file. Most of the records, including his X-rays, were in electronic form and stored on CDs. The only paper file was the actual minute-by-minute account of the surgery, and a few hand-written comments from the hospital psychiatrist.
Kevin wanted to dive into them immediately, but given his mother's emotional breakdown, he decided to upload a copy to his laptop, and store the rest in a RFID-proof folder in his suitcase.
He spent the afternoon lazing around the pool, and soaking in the warmth and sun. That night, he promised to have dinner with his mother's cronies, a change for her to show off her famous son.
His phone buzzed across the black wrought-iron table, and he reached over and fingered it into his grasp. "Hunter."
"How's tricks?" The exotic voice voice had him sitting upright.
"Rose?" His afternoon just got brighter. "How are you?"
She gave a low laugh, one he felt clear down to his toes. "I'm probably a lot colder than you are right now. I'm in Wintergreen, and the snow pack is lightning fast and the skiers are few. I wanted to let you know that I've finished the draft of the first episode and already sent it to the pre-production crew for review and changes. Did you want me to email it to you? Or did you want to wait until you head north again?"
"Hmm, better keep it with you for now. I intend to head back in a couple of days anyway, and I've got something else I'm working on right now."
"Okay." She said, then her voice turned serious. "Have you had any other problems since that one last week? I'm asking strictly as a friend, of course."
"Nothing. I think that may have been some sort of anomaly or chemical imbalance. I don't expect a recurrence. "
She replied, "Except that things that go away by themselves tend to come back by themselves too. So you be careful, and I'll see you when you return back, all nice and tan." She chuckled again and signed off.
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