"That's amazing," said Scott. "I saw the . . ."
"It is amazing," agreed Dr. Kelly, "but not all that rare. There are many references in the literature where severe brain damage was sustained without corresponding symptoms. I once saw a half inch re-bar go through this poor guy's forehead. He was still awake! We operated, removed the bar, and when he woke up he was hungry. He had a slight a headache. It was like nothing ever happened. So, who knows? Maybe we'll be lucky."
"Can we see him?" Scott asked the Irish doctor assigned to repair Pierre Troubleaux.
"He's awake, but we have been keeping him sedated, more to let the chest wound heal than his head," Dr. Kelly replied.
Pierre was recuperating in a virtual prison, a private room deep within the bowels of the Medical Center. There were 2 guards outside the room and another that sat near the hospital bed. Absolute identification was required every time someone entered the room and it took two phone calls to verify the identities of Scott and Tyrone despite the verbal affidavit from Kelly. The groggy Pierre was awake when the three approached the bed. Dr. Kelly introduced them and Pierre immediately tried to move to thank Scott for saving his life.
Dr. Kelly laid down the rules; even though Pierre was in remarka- bly good shape, still, no bouncing on the bed and don't drink the IV fluid. Pierre spoke quietly, but found at least a half dozen ways to thank Scott for his ad hoc heroics. He also retained much of his famed humor.
"I want to thank you," Pierre said in jest, "for putting the value of my life in proper perspective."
Scott's cheeks pushed up his glasses from the deep smile that Pierre's words caused. He hadn't realized that Pierre had been conscious. Tyrone looked confused.
"I begged him not to die," laughed Scott, "because it wouldn't look good on my resume."
"And I have had the common courtesy to honor your request."