The Caretaker - Chapter 1 - Annie M.

Slender limbs lurched suddenly.

They always do, the caretaker thought to herself, as she settled into the comatose form and begin her ministrations. Even those in the deepest of sleep sensed the intrusion at some point and responded. Even those who had made prior arrangements. She busied herself with her checklist. Arms: intact, marginal muscle degradation. Legs: intact, sleep-diminished. Hands: intact, flexible. Feet: intact, weakened. Torso: intact, newly formed scar tissue above right ribcage. Head: intact, stabilized. Spine: intact, minor scoliosis. She completed the quick structural review and, finding nothing untoward, moved on to the integrative.

Physically there was nothing wrong with this form, she noted, except for the natural effects of 27 active years of life. She continued her travels, frowning to herself as she located and evaluated a lymph gland that appeared slightly discolored. Lungs: the alveoli showed marginal hardening in the lower right lobe. The woman had been exposed to second hand smoke. The caretaker sniffed slightly and winced, noting the tarry odor, then moved on to investigate the circulatory system. As she worked, she went over the chart in her mind.

Annie M. Deep coma since 14 July 1993 11:54 AM GMT, general anesthesia, during repairs to lower left leg as a result of auto collision. Runner. No history of drug use. No family history of heart conditions or diabetes. Weight proportional to height: 124, 5'8". No prior surgeries. Dental: full adult set, one emerging wisdom LL. BP: 115/64.

Annie had been riding in the passenger seat of a Toyota Corolla when the Metro bus had t-boned it in the middle of the intersection of Wilshire and Westwood, at 4:32 PM local time, sun boomeranging off the tall glass tower windows and into the windshield of the car. Her fiance' had been momentarily blinded and distracted. The nose of the car was just a bit too far into the intersection and the bus had swatted it like a mosquito on an arm. The car had leaped the curb and been pinned between the bus and a light standard. Annie's leg had bent just wrong, snapping the tibia in two places.

Annie had been a runner, before the accident. She'd prided herself in her early morning sojourns along the broad sandy expanses of beach south of Santa Monica pier, feet digging triangular indents as she sprinted to the wet sand where she would start her normal jog. South a mile then north two then south one and back to the parking lot and back to home. Rain or shine. She was in great shape and knew it, and her wardrobe showed it, a closet packed with the latest fashions and trendiest trends.

The caretaker wondered what had happened to the dark blue sweater and pale gray pleated blouse that Annie had been wearing when the ambulance brought her in. The matching slacks had been too damaged to salvage, cut away to access the injuries. She checked the property list idly and found them, then continued her review. All seemed to be in order. Well, as best order as one might expect for someone who had been comatose for so long.

She stationed herself behind Annie's cerebral cortex and settled in to work. As she flexed and extended each arm, finger, leg, toe, elbow, shoulder, she hummed a small tune to herself. Patients responded well to music, she had found. After ten minutes of limb and joint exercise, she opened Annie's eyes and surveyed the room. Annie's father inhaled sharply. Even though the man knew what to expect, a result of the caretaker's presence, it still seemed to catch him off guard each time.

Frank and Eleanor had arranged for the caretaker's services over a year ago, in an effort to bring their only daughter back to her life, despite the opinion in the general medical community that such services were unproven and at best marginally successful. Annie's primary physician, Dr V Singh, held forth that it could do no harm to try this approach and, with the best mixture of his Eastern upbringing and medical training, and West Los Angeles residency, stated they should 'go for it.'

"But will it break the coma? Will she wake up?" Frank had queried as his wife sat next to him on a narrow plaid-upholstered bench in the doctor's waiting room. She had fidgeted as he spoke, eyes pinned to the floor as she tore tissue after tissue into damp confetti with trembling frail hands.

"We can make no -" Dr Singh paused, searching for a delicate approach. "There are no guarantees, of course, with any approach we can take at this stage. A patient in coma may awaken at any moment or remain comatose indefinitely."

"Will she know what is happening?"

"We have little way of knowing if a patient can sense the presence of a caretaker, sir. We monitor activity through electroencephalography - at every step of the process, naturally, and the caretaker is bound to the same professional oaths as we take as physicians."

"I think we should agree, Frank," Eleanor whispered at the stack of torn tissue in her lap.

"Will our insurance cover this?" Frank scowled as he looked between the doctor in front of him and his wife at his side.

"You should call them before we begin," Singh stated matter-of-factly. "It is classified as an experimental procedure, even after all this time."

Frank sighed and nodded, then looked over at his wife.

"We should do this, Frank."

Frank nodded.

"Call your insurance company, and I'll make the arrangements." Dr Singh looked through the open door at the young woman's still form, then made a few quick notes on the chart propped in the holder next to the door.


The caretaker hummed as she closed Annie's eyes, checked off the minor exercise routine, then let herself out through the shell of Annie's left ear and vanished. Moments later she blinked her own eyes awake and rose from the day bed in her office, crossed to her desk and sat down. She ran her own hands through her own hair, pushing back a few locks of tousled auburn curls behind her own ears, then selected a pen from the cherry wood box before her and began to complete her notes and charts.