| Subject: Chapter 6 |
Author:
Kate
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Date Posted: 20:08:29 03/29/01 Thu
In reply to:
by Kate
's message, "Things My Mother Taught Me" on 19:49:51 03/29/01 Thu
*****************
It took Sam less time than he anticipated to gather the supplies needed at the medical base because some things were unavailable. Irritated, he strode into Sheppard's a little before 2 o'clock, located Milla, gave her a quick nod and headed for the phone booth.
When he emerged half an hour later, Milla was still calmly drinking lemonade and carrying on a conversation with one of the bellmen. Her hand was cradled against her chest. He knew it probably hurt; it was a nasty cut and he expected it to scar her hand. He'd have to remind her to rub lotion into the healing skin when he took her stitches out next week. Maybe then the scars wouldn't be so bad. She hadn't lost any fingers, and it seemed like she hadn't injured any of the cartilage which was a miracle, but he worried about nerve damage. He genuinely liked Milla. She reminded him of his younger sister Indira, not in looks so much but in personality. And his wife Sara adored her. If either Sara or Indira were facing possible nerve damage, he'd send her to the best specialist he knew -- and he'd do the same for Milla if it came down to it. Hopefully, it wouldn't.
"Hi, Sammy." Milla grinned up at him, and he smiled back.
"Hey, brat. Ready to go back to camp?"
Milla glanced at the bellman, who looked a little confused. "Thanks for the help," she said to him, and he shrugged, nodded, and went back to the front desk.
"What help?" Sam asked.
"Oh, he ran an errand for me," Milla said, absently waving her hand then wincing slightly.
"Did you talk to your mother?"
"Uh ... no. Not exactly. Say, Sammy, what do you know about nerve damage?"
Dreading what he thought was coming, Sam answered truthfully, "Quite a bit. Both my brother and I have studied neurological diseases; I did an extensive study about nerve damage and whether psychosomatic factors play a part in recovery. Why?"
"Psychosomatic. That means imaginary, right?"
"Sometimes," he said cautiously. "Usually it's an outside factor, like stress. Sometimes it causes actual symptoms -- like stomach ailments or headaches or, in the cases I studied, nerve damage."
Milla looked thoughtful. "What if it's not psychosomatic?"
"You mean an organic cause? Nerve damage can be caused by any number of things, Milla, not just stress. It could be something environmental. Arsenic poisoning, for instance. That often happens in underdeveloped countries with impure water supplies. Lead poisoning is the same way -- either the water has too much, or maybe people are renovating an old building with lead products, like paint, in it. They breathe it in and presto, they develop odd symptoms that turn out to be too much lead in their systems. Or maybe it's a biological thing -- the person has been exposed to something in the past that only later manifests itself."
Milla perked up. "Really? That happens?"
"Sure, sometimes. Especially with people who have been in a war or exposed to large amounts of toxic chemicals. There were a lot of documented cases of old Gulf War vets from the U.S. turning up with all kinds of odd diseases, even into their 70s. Why all the questions?"
"It's just something I'm interested in." Milla looked down and absently scratched her knee. "You know a lot about stuff like that?"
"I'm no expert on organic causes, but I know quite a bit from my research. If you wanted to find out more, I could put you in touch with my brother. He's the real expert. He's working on nerve regeneration right now."
"You mean, if your nerves are bad, you can grow new ones? Like starfish?" She glanced up at him and he could tell she was tired.
"Something like that. Come on. Time to go back to camp." Sam got up and held out a hand to help Milla.
"I'm ... well, Sammy, I'm not coming back to camp."
"Not coming?" he asked, staring at her. "You want to stay here instead? Surely you're not that tired."
"It's not that. Actually ..." she took a deep breath. "Actually, I was hoping you might do a favor for me."
"What kind of favor?" Sam's eyes narrowed.
"I was hoping you could take me by the airport." Milla cleared her throat and said in a no-nonsense voice, "I have to go home. As soon as possible. I already phoned the camp to tell them I won't come back. I called it a family emergency, but I don't really think it is. I just ... I need to go home. Now. The plane leaves in two hours."
Stunned, Sam stared at her. "You don't even have any money. I had to pay for lunch. How are you going to --"
"Credit card."
"But ... what about your work? You're just going to quit?"
"I didn't say I wasn't ever coming back," Milla said quickly. "But even you said I can't work for at least a week. Why should I stay here being bored and driving everyone crazy, including you, when I can go home for a bit?"
Put that way, it did make sense. Still --
"You don't have to worry about my stitches," Milla said quickly, as his eyes settled on her hand. "My mother can take care of it. She used to work with UNICEF or Peace Corps or something like that. She's really good at first aide."
"Milla, this isn't first aide, it's --"
"Sammy, please. I want to go home. I have to."
Sam frowned and tried to be logical. "Actually ... I was going to fly into Rome next week anyway. A few of the things we need are unavailable here."
"Really?" Milla brightened. "I don't live far from Rome at all. Just a few hours. You could come down, take out these damned stitches and check my mother for me."
"What's wrong with your mother?"
"I don't know." Milla dropped her eyes and bit her lip, and Sam frowned again.
"What do you mean?"
"They think it might be some kind of nerve damage. If you've got to come anyway ... maybe you could look at her?"
Sam sighed. He could see his quick two-day trip to Rome turning into something altogether different -- two days in Rome, a trip to Sorrento to check out Milla's hand then evaluate her mother who probably was suffering from nothing more uncommon than hormonal changes and hot flashes. Then they'd make him stay another day or two ... it would be a week before he got back to Cairo, he just knew it. And a week without Sara was too long for both of them.
On the other hand, Milla did say her mother was in the Peace Corps. There was a faint possibility she'd been exposed to some kind of nerve agent, he supposed. And, if things worked out right, perhaps Sara could come with him. They could make it a bit of a working holiday. Sara would enjoy that and it might be the last time they could get away before the baby came in a few months.
"Please, Sammy?"
God. She looked just like his sister Indira. Even sounded like her. He never could resist a person in pain, in trouble or in need. "Come on, then," Sam sighed, and Milla beamed at him.
**************
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